“The Younger Brother” by William-Adolphe Bouguereau
Teach the children. We don’t matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones — inkberry, lamb’s-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones — rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms. ~ Mary Oliver (Upstream: Selected Essays)
6.6.18 ~ wild geranium, Connecticut College Arboretum New London, Connecticut
The wood is decked in light green leaf. The swallow twitters in delight. The lonely vine sheds joyous tears Of interwoven dew and light.
Spring weaves a gown of green to clad The mountain height and wide-spread field. O when wilt thou, my native land, In all thy glory stand revealed?
~ Ilia Chavchavadze (Anthology of Georgian Poetry)
wild geranium
“Summer is coming!” the soft breezes whisper; “Summer is coming!” the glad birdies sing. Summer is coming — I hear her quick footsteps; Take your last look at the beautiful Spring. ~ Dora Read Goodale (Summer Is Coming)
6.6.18
6.6.18
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring. ~ George Santayana (Words of Wisdom & Quotable Quotes)
notice the ant in the middle of the flower
new growth on a hemlock
female common whitetail dragonfly
How many Flowers fail in Wood — Or perish from the Hill — Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful —
How many cast a nameless Pod Opon the nearest Breeze — Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight — It bear to other eyes —
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #534)
6.6.18
sweet little bluets
azalea
inviting path
Honor the space between no longer and not yet. ~ Nancy Levin (Grief Interrupted: A Holistic Guide to Reclaiming Your Joy)
Janet overlooking the lawn where the audience sits to watch outdoor theater in the summer
You can’t be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet. ~ Hal Borland (Sundial of the Seasons)
9.11.16
After way too many days of miserable heat and sticky humidity the weather finally changed Sunday afternoon. We celebrated by going to our favorite gluten-free pizza place and having our supper there outside in the fresh air.
9.11.16
On the way home I spotted six wild turkeys in a field and insisted Tim turn around so I could get some pictures. Most of them had their heads down in the grass, feeding. But the lookout was keeping his eye open for danger or trouble. I’m glad he didn’t seem to think we posed any threat.
9.11.16
9.11.16
9.11.16
This field is separated from the road by a stone wall. After feeding for a while, the lookout turkey jumped up on the stone wall and started watching the cars go by. It seemed like he was looking for a good opportunity to cross the street with the rafter of turkeys in his charge.
9.11.16
9.11.16
9.11.16
9.11.16
9.11.16
9.11.16
There was just too much traffic! We grew tired of waiting and the other turkeys kept on feeding themselves so we decided to leave. When we drove past him on the road I tried to get a picture of him from that side of the wall, but it came out blurry. But still, it was fun to watch them, and a great way to end the weekend.
how gulls hunker down in frigid temperatures 2.16.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach
Oh the snow fell without a break Buffalo died in the frozen fields you know Through the coldest winter in almost fourteen years I couldn’t believe you kept a smile ~ Rod Stewart ♫ (Mandolin Wind) ♫
the rocks where the oystercatchers made their nest last summer
Cabin fever drove us out of our “cabin” yesterday. It was way too bitterly cold and windy to take a walk, so we drove around all morning, had lunch at our favorite restaurant, and then drove around some more. To get some shots I would hop out of the car for a few seconds, but mostly I rolled down the window to shoot. Even with layers the cold was bone-chilling…
First we went down to the beach where a small circle was plowed into the parking lot. The gulls looked miserable – they usually are standing when resting, even in winter, but this was the first time I’ve seen them hunker down like this. Sadly, I’m guessing some of them won’t make it through the winter.
Beach Pond was frozen over and starkly beautiful
As I write this it is snowing yet again – the sight of it gently falling brings me pleasure but I must confess to struggling with restlessness and lethargy this winter, an odd combination, but there it is…
abandoned nest
Over lunch we talked about our plans for Katie’s upcoming weekend visit in March. We’ll take her to see the beach where her mother grew up, and to our favorite restaurant to show her off to the servers there. It’s nice to have things to look forward to, even while savoring the moments here and now.
More pictures will be coming when I get a chance to post again…
The world rests in the night. Trees, mountains, fields, and faces are released from the prison of shape and the burden of exposure. Each thing creeps back into its own nature within the shelter of the dark. Darkness is the ancient womb. Nighttime is womb-time. Our souls come out to play. The darkness absolves everything; the struggle for identity and impression falls away. We rest in the night. ~ John O’Donohue (Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom)
For some reason I’ve been sleeping very well this winter. After the excitement of the holidays drifted away the days now seem very peaceful, the nights long and restful, and my dreams full of sweetness. Perhaps I am creeping back into my own nature. I’ve been “pruning” my family tree by day because it needs a lot of editing every once in a while.
A few Alberta clippers (fast moving snowstorms that seem to originate in Alberta, Canada) have passed through, leaving delightful snow flurries and light coatings of powdery snow. The bitter cold snaps have been more remarkable. The lowest temperature we’ve had here by the shore so far was 2°F (-17°C). Inland has been much colder. Today I will start putting away the solstice decorations. It would be nice to have at least one big snowstorm, a nor’easter, this winter…
This week I have not read any book, nor once walked in the woods and field. I meant to give its days to setting outward things in order, and its evenings to writing. But, I know not how it is, I can never simplify my life; always so many ties, so many claims! However, soon the winter winds will chant matins and vespers, which may make my house a cell, and in a snowy veil enfold me for my prayer. ~ Margaret Fuller (Letter to William H. Channing, October 25, 1840)
Blue Marble image of North America by NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring
In the belly of the furnace of creativity is a sexual fire; the flames twine about each other in fear and delight. The same sort of coiling, at a cooler, slower pace, is what the life of this planet looks like. The enormous spirals of typhoons, the twists and turns of mountain ranges and gorges, the waves and the deep ocean currents – a dragonlike writhing. ~ Gary Snyder (A Place in Space)
Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have a clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule. ~ J. R. R. Tolkien (The Return of the King)
Contemplating the lace-like fabric of streams outspread over the mountains, we are reminded that everything is flowing — going somewhere, animals and so-called lifeless rocks as well as water. Thus the snow flows fast or slow in grand beauty-making glaciers and avalanches; the air in majestic floods carrying minerals, plant leaves, seeds, spores, with streams of music and fragrance; water streams carrying rocks both in solution and in the form of mud particles, sand, pebbles, and boulders. Rocks flow from volcanoes like water from springs, and animals flock together and flow in currents modified by stepping, leaping, gliding, flying, swimming, etc. While the stars go streaming through space pulsed on and on forever like blood globules in Nature’s warm heart. ~ John Muir (Meditations of John Muir: Nature’s Temple)
Before the bud swells, before the grass springs, before the plow is started, comes the sugar harvest. It is the sequel of the bitter frost; a sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter. ~ John Burroughs (Signs & Seasons)
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
We had no idea what a treat we were in for when we checked into a motel in Orange, Massachusetts Saturday night. Our plan was to spend the night, grab a breakfast somewhere, and head over to a family reunion in the neighboring town of Athol on Sunday afternoon. In the morning we discovered a great place to have breakfast, on Johnson’s Farm, a restaurant, sugar house, and gift shop! Maple syrup production was well under way, the old-fashioned way.
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
Sugar weather is crisp weather. How the tin buckets glisten in the gray woods; how the robins laugh; how the nuthatches call; how lightly the thin blue smoke rises among the trees! The squirrels are out of their dens; the migrating waterfowls are streaming northward; the sheep and cattle look wistfully toward the bare fields; the tide of the season, in fact, is just beginning to rise. ~ John Burroughs (Signs & Seasons)
If only some way could be found to share the smell of New England in maple sugar season on a blog post! Our olfactory receptors were tickled with delight to whiff in the aromas of wood-burning stoves and sap boiling down into syrup. We bought a couple of jugs of pure maple syrup! Mostly we’ll be using it in marinades, since pancakes are no longer on our grain-free diet…
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
It was if we had been transported back in time to a place in the heart of New England. It made me appreciate anew that there are more “seasons” than the four four we normally notice as the year goes around. The gnarly old tree in the above picture caught our attention – what an amazing life it has had. And I loved the knotty pine interior of the sugar house in the picture below – so typical of New England.
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
When we got home Sunday night Zoë and Scarby seemed a little angry with us (ears pinned back, ignoring us) for leaving them overnight, but they’re back to purring and following us around, rubbing our legs and talking to us again.
