Perfect Wednesday

There is something a bit magical in a summer's morning. Maybe it's the light, or the way the warm air carries the scents. Most days, I step outside, stretch my arms and take in the freshness even before I start the coffee. (Not much before, but.. before.)

That said, this morning was glorious. With coffee in hand, I went onto the deck with my new little inkle loom. One cup ran into another, so to speak. I can't begin to explain the attraction. It's fun to watch the colors blend and take shape. It just is.

It doesn't get much better than this. But, there was broccoli to cut, raspberries to pick.. and weeding. Back in the kitchen, the broccoli joined half a sweet onion, some garlic, mushrooms and feta in a quiche. Dinner done. I took the afternoon off and headed to the Old Stone House to spin. Such a lovely place, it feels like it sits on top of the world. My camera was in my bag. I had good intentions. Around 3pm the sky darkened and the rain started. The forecast was ominous, threats of high winds, heavy rain and the possibility of one inch hail. I left without the pictures.

* luckily, we only had rain, some had inches of huge hail and the wind.

** blogged from my cell, not too successfully, lol!

the way we think

This is not the post I had planned for today.  BUT.. when I saw this little video this morning, everything changed.  It says so much to me about the way we think and our creative process. 

Years ago, there was a show at MOMA in NYC called "Primitivism" in 20th Century Art.  The video reminded me of it.  The show compared primitive art with contemporary and in particular, displayed primitive art objects that were collected by contemporary masters.  Interesting for most, mind blowing for me.  If ever I had needed an affirmation of my belief in the collective consciousness, this was it.  

walk with me wednesday..


Look at this, I’ve found proof.  The seasons are changing again and spring is on the way.  It’ll take months, longer than the groundhog predicted only a couple weeks ago in Punxsutawney.  What can he know of our seasons so far to his north?  It is only the middle of February and here in the Kingdom, the snow will still be hanging around the back of the barn well into May.  But the light is changing; the days are somehow less grey.   Against the snow there is a brightening of color; last year’s new growth is swelling. 

This is the only pussy I found today.  One day of sun would be all they need to pop.


Last spring, I was miserably disappointed when I found the tall line of willows I’d planted along the dam munched down to nubs by the newcomer beaver.  I'm usually pretty good at dealing with offenders.  Not this one.  He eluded my trap time after time, tripping the door with well placed whips from my lovely willows.   This is the one that got away.  But that is another story.


The willows are making a comeback.  Weeds that they are, it won’t take long.  I admit that I was  curious to see what would happen to my pollarded plants.  It was something that I was thinking of doing before the beaver beat me to it.


The shape of what remains is hardly orderly.  If I were truly a gardener, a lover of order, I’d prune them to a respectable form.   I’m intrigued, at least for now, by the wild shapes that have been left behind. 



With luck, there should be new willows popping up along the shore where the beaver left his tender snacks behind to root.

winter gardens.. light catchers


I'd thought to show you pictures of the January thaw.  But, there weren't any walks for me the past week, and now it is February.  I've had a terrific cold, perhaps enhanced by the H1N1 flu shot that I got at a free clinic.  I was down for the count by 7:30 that evening.  Coincidence, probably.  None the less, walking in the cold and wind with aches and chills, didn't happen.  The thaw continued without me.  Almost.  Most of the thaw is extra work; raking snow from the roof, chipping away heavier ice packs to free up the walks and drive and pushing away accumulating slush when it finally melts.  One part, my favorite to be sure, is the formation of icicles.  Big, shining, light refracting stalactites of frozen water. I know that icicles and stalactites are different in composition, but they are alike too.   It is an interesting article.  Early in the thaw, as I do every winter if the icicles are large enough, I filled my planters with frozen light catchers. 


walk with me wednesday.. frozen marsh


One of the many reasons that I love winter, is that the same low temperatures that make me want to stay curled up in a chair indoors, also allow me to go places outdoors that I can't go in the warmer months.  And, I might add, without bugs.  Saturday was cold, and windy, and bright blue sky sunny.  I'd spend an hour or so sitting with friends spinning and then bundle up to go outdoors, exploring the marshy shoreline on which our retreat house was perched.  You can't imagine how delighted I was to find that much of the marsh was frozen and that I could walk on top.  The tides had left lace upon the grasses. 

walk with me wednesday..

again or still....
I can't decide which is a better way to describe the weather.  After nearly a month, I'm thinking words like overcast, damp, drizzle and rain.  The world around me is lush, fat and very, very... green.  All the greens you can imagine: light greens, dark greens, blue greens, yellow greens, browned greens, green greens and evergreens.  Evergreen.  Ever. Green. Gorgeous. So green you can smell it. Eat it. Green. 






That's Ishbel. A great diversion for rainy days.


They're Coming!!

...and it looks like they are a week or so earlier this year.  Get your feeders ready.  Those early hummers will need it when they get here. I've noticed that the little flying bugs are out now, so the hummers shouldn't be too far behind.



Go check out the hummingbird website.  It is packed with all kinds of good information.

For those of you that don't remember how to make hummingbird food, here's the recipe:

Fill a measuring cup to the 1/4 mark with sugar. Then top off to the 1 cup mark with water.   Heat to boiling.  The ratio is 1:4.  The first time I fill the feeder each year, I add a bit more sugar, say 1:3. 


Saturday was one of those perfect days, where everything falls together.  At 6:30 am there was a heavy fog blanketing the coast, early spring cool and with a light breeze.  I'd be traveling across several coastal bridges.  The magic of driving up into the clouds hadn't escaped my imagination.  Two hours later, I left my car in a parking lot and joined Cindy for the drive south. We were headed to one of my favorite places on earth, to do one of my favorite things.  By 10 am we were setting up our spinning wheels in the visitor's center at the Sachuest Point Wildlife Refuge, one of my old stomping grounds.  Bliss.  We settled in to spend the day spinning (demonstrating), chatting with the visitor's, admiring the photographic talent of David Farmer and best of all, walking within the refuge.  Early in the afternoon the sun peaked through and I set out through the thicket for the rocky cliffs and cove I love so well. 



I was on a mission. 


Lucky for me that Sunday was a rainy day. 


6x6, the meme


Terry tagged me for this meme the other day.  It seemed worth saving for one of those "what should I blog about days".   Following the rules wasn't so easy for me.  I had to punt as I went along, still keeping it random.  My pictures aren't stored in folders.  Instead, I grabbed six cds, put them in order of date, chose the sixth, then the sixth picture on that disc.  If you want to play, here are the rules:

*Go to your sixth picture folder and pick your sixth picture.

*Pray you remember the details.

*Tag five others.

Consider yourself tagged.

...and that ends our month of blogging everyday.  30 days, 30 posts.  It was fun and got me back into the groove.  I shall now resume my regular irregular broadcast.