Yesterday afternoon a flash of bright red in the arborvitae trees behind our condo caught my eye. This little fellow was feasting away on the tree’s seeds, off and on, all afternoon. When Tim got home he decided to take some pictures through the sliding glass doors. My Facebook friends helped me to identify him.
7.24.17 ~ house finch by Timothy Rodgers
I know most people don’t feel the same way, but the weather yesterday was wonderful! The temperatures were about 20 degrees below normal and we got a good soaking rain. It felt like October! What a pleasant respite from the heat of summer ~ no hum from the air conditioner and a visit from this sweet little bird.
Got to keep it together when your friends come by Always checking the weather but they want to know why Even birds of a feather find it hard to fly ~ Aimee Mann ♫ (Goose Snow Cone) ♫
Today is the 26th anniversary of my mother’s death. The pain of loss has dulled somewhat over the years, but this year is a little different because my mom was 59 when she died and I am now 60. It just feels a little unsettling… One thing I still miss terribly is calling her and telling her what was new in my life and what her grandchildren were up to. She would have found this autism thing very interesting.
When I was in nursery school my behavior was different enough to prompt my parents to take me to a child psychologist for evaluation. Autism was not understood or even heard of in the 1960s. The psychologist told them I needed more attention from them. A few years later, when I got a stomach ulcer in elementary school the doctor told them I needed more emotional support from them. How I wish I could tell them now it was not their parenting that was the problem!
Currently I am reading a wonderful book, Writers on the Spectrum: How Autism & Asperger Syndrome Have Influenced Literary Writing by Julie Brown. It’s no secret that Emily Dickinson is my favorite poet and my jaw dropped to learn that she probably had autism and one whole chapter in this book is devoted to her. I found it interesting to learn how autism made so many of her poems indecipherable, although they no doubt made perfect sense to her.
The recurring practice of quoting from someone else’s literature in your own text resembles the echolalia that people with autism are known for. Some repeat words from movies, television, or other people because they are trying to understand the meaning of the words. Sometimes echolalia is an attempt to communicate with others — the words are tools borrowed to build meaning. Some repeat phrases for the sheer joy of it. ~ Julie Brown (Writers on the Spectrum: How Autism & Asperger Syndrome Have Influenced Literary Writing)
A couple of things struck me in the above paragraph. My autism may be what drives me to collect and share quotations! I’m not sure I completely understand the definition of “echolalia” but my mother did tell me something that I think may be related. She could always tell when I made a new friend at school because I would come home with a different accent and different mannerisms, evidently copied from various classmates. It still happens to me when I spend a lot of time with someone, although I try not to do this.
6.25.16 ~ we celebrated the summer solstice on Saturday good friends, good food and good fun…
6.25.16 ~ bald eagle
6.25.16 ~ gray catbird
6.25.16 ~ downy woodpecker
6.25.16 ~ downy woodpecker taking off
6.25.16 ~ petunias
6.25.16 ~ daylily
6.25.16 ~ foxglove
6.25.16 ~ daylily
6.25.16 ~ fairy light
as close as I could get to this doe before she stomped her forefeet at me ~ I backed off so she could graze in peace…
6.25.16 ~ chipmunk
6.25.16 ~ so many orbs on a magical night
6.25.16 ~ after a long day of fun in the sun, a fire to enjoy under a clear sky full of shimmering stars, with fireflies glowing in the surrounding trees, and fairy lights sparkling near the grass…
Up and away for life! be fleet!- The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, Curdles the blood to the marble bones, Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, And hems in life with narrowing fence. Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,- The punctual stars will vigil keep,- Embalmed by purifying cold; The winds shall sing their dead-march old, The snow is no ignoble shroud, The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (The Titmouse)
On this day we woke up in Bergen, rented a car, and made our way out of the city to Hardangerfjord. We spent most of this day driving the length of the fjord (179 km or 111 miles) and enjoying the scenery, making a couple of stops. The first thing we spotted was this tiny island with a little building sitting on it. It was so picturesque we looked for a spot to pull over so we could take pictures of it. As we were waiting to cross the highway we heard shrieks of delight and turned to see two girls coming down the side road on a bicycle. I got this picture (above) as they were turning around and getting ready to head back up the hill. They were gone as quickly as they appeared!
So then we walked across the highway and took lots of pictures of the little island, wishing we could somehow see the other side of it! It might be a boathouse?
Dawn-awakening coves, hammer-blows of light against the sky and out there in the fjord mouth, birdsong, clamorous, crescendo as from a works yard, the strident assembly of a brand new day, a sun will soon be ready for launching! ~ Stein Mehren (Early)
This pretty scene (below) was also to be appreciated – I love how the mountains were reflected in the fjord.
A child, her wayward pencil drew On margins of her book Garlands of flowers, dancing elves, Bird, butterfly and brook. Lessons undone, and play forgot Seeking with hand and heart The teacher whom she learned to love Before she knew ‘t was Art. ~ Louisa May Alcott (Louisa May Alcott: A Biography)
Morning light in Flåm, Norway, looking off the balcony of our hotel room. (above) Morning is my favorite time of day and this particular morning we did not have to rush off to catch a train or a ferry or a bus so we could enjoy a a few leisurely hours in the village before our next adventure.
good morning! ~ friendly little curious female house sparrow
later on we would cross this bridge on a bus to get to a long tunnel to Gudvangen
it didn’t take me long to find a few gulls
entrance to Ægir Brewery & Pub, where we had dinner the night before
wood carvings in a dead tree near our hotel
so many lovely birch trees
Ægir Brewery & Pub ~ it’s only open for dinner
Flåmsbrygga Hotel, the warmth of knotty pine floors and doors
Ægir Brewery, sign above entrance
Tim on a little stone seat sticking out of the wall of the Flåmstova Restaurant
wall in the Flåmstova Restaurant, where we had breakfast
ceiling in the Flåmstova Restaurant
While we were eating breakfast by a picture window, enjoying the view of garden, fjord and mountain, a cruise ship very slowly pulled into port! Then we could barely see the mountain over the top of it! Cruise ships are amazingly large – Flåm was such a tiny port I am sure it couldn’t possibly accommodate more than one of them at a time.
I still can’t get over how it was spring on the fjord and winter in the mountains
there was a hiking path up through the farms hugging the side of the mountain
wish we had time to hike up there, but the zoom lens came in handy to capture this scene
We boarded a small bus to take us through the mountains to Gudvangen. This is the entrance to Flenja Tunnel (above) which is 5,053m long. (16,578′). We came out of it for only 500m (1,640′) before entering Gudvanga Tunnel, which is 11,428m (7.1 mi) long, Norway’s second longest road tunnel.
Next stop: Ferry ride on Nærøyfjord from Gudvangen back to Flåm.
4.1.15 ~ Poet’s Walk, Hillsborough, North Carolina
Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And monie a hill between; But day and night may fancy’s flight Is ever wi’ my Jean.
4.1.15 ~ Hillsborough, North Carolina
I see her in the dewey flowers, I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu’ birds, I hear her charm the air: There’s not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green; There’s not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o’ my Jean. ~ Robert Burns (Poet’s Walk, Hillsborough, North Carolina)
4.1.15 ~ Hillsborough, North Carolina
Tim’s cousin, Allegra, and I took a road trip to visit Dima, Larisa, and Katie in North Carolina last week. One day we kept Katie home from daycare and discovered she is a lover of the great outdoors. In the house she was fussy and dealing with the remnants of her bout with bronchiolitis, but when we took her for a walk to have lunch at the Mellow Mushroom in Chapel Hill she enjoyed the stroller ride and charmed the server at our patio table. She fell asleep on the walk home but after what Allegra called a power nap, she was fussy again. So I took her outside in my arms and we stood by the trees, looking up into the boughs. Katie kept looking up, cooing with pleasure and seemingly spellbound by the soft breeze stirring the leaves and the occasional bird fluttering or insect buzzing through. Special moments with my granddaughter for me to remember.
4.1.15 ~ Hillsborough, North Carolina
After such a long hard winter I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled we were to be where spring is well under way. We slept with the windows open for three nights in a row! And woke to the delightful calls of the early birds! The sky was so blue!
4.1.15 ~ Hillsborough, North Carolina
Another day Allegra and I went to the place where I took all these pictures, Ayr Mount & Poet’s Walk in Hillsborough. The modest mansion is a Federal-era plantation home built by William Kirkland of Ayr, Scotland, about 1815. No photographs allowed inside, but the tour was very interesting, and after a scrumptious lunch break at Hillsborough BBQ Company, we returned to the property and walked the trail meandering through woodlands and meadows and the banks of the Eno River.
4.1.15 ~ Hillsborough, North Carolina
On the last day of our visit Larisa and I walked to Katie’s six-month checkup with her pediatrician. One of the things I do love about Chapel Hill is that one can walk to just about any where one might think of going. Katie is doing very well and was enjoying the time spent with her mother. She is petite for her age, but there are so many short people in our family that this comes as no surprise. Of course there were the obligatory vaccination shots at the end of the visit and the inevitable wails of protest, but comfort and sympathy was given quickly and soon we were off for our walk home, lunch out, and a fun afternoon of clothes shopping. Katie is starting swimming lessons this week and needed the appropriate attire, and of course, Grammy had to buy her a couple of dresses that she seemed to like.
4.1.15 ~ Hillsborough, North Carolina
…Larisa and Katie…
That night, as we all went out for ice cream, I suddenly realized I had not taken any pictures of Katie! I was simply having so much fun just being with her. So I managed to get this one at Maple View Farm, in another part of Hillsborough, where we went after dinner to catch the sunset as we indulged in farm fresh ice cream. The sunset wasn’t spectacular, and Katie had discovered the joy of sticking out her tongue, so the picture-taking session was mostly a disappointment, but that’s okay. We’ll settle for this one.
Please enjoy the rest of the pictures from the Poet’s Walk.
