tea time

six boxes of good earth cocoa chai, my wintertime drink of choice, arrive in today's mail. this stash is more than enough to last me through the cold, dark winter months ahead. all i need now is a netflix account and a snuggie.

minimum

here's the reason why many don't bother growing mums in northern new england. it's late october and finally, this plant has blossoms. but it's grown so tall and leggy that it's falling over on itself. will these flowers grow much bigger? probably not. will they materialize before a fall snowstorm does? not likely. easier then to buy fall plants in pots to compost in november after a hard frost, leaving the garden space for daisies and lilies and plants that look pleasing for a good length of time.

fascinating faucet - or a whole new low

yes, indeedy, i am blogging a faucet. because what better thing to do on a cold rainy october weekend than collect up a screwdriver and an old toothbrush to dismantle the bathroom faucet and scrub years of accumulated sludge and slime from the valves within? yeckkk! but truly, the reason for the picture was to help name those snap-in things that cover the screws recessed in the handles. index buttons, they're called and they can be bought online to replace the 20+ year old ones that are so disfigured you're never quite certain anymore which is h and which is c. upon downloading the photo, i immediately saw a moose (see?) and am now thinking about posting this to the "faces in places" blog. and finally, the photographer is reflected on the chrome within - twice, in fact, due to the close proximity of the also sparkling bathroom mirror.

mum

the center of a tiny white chrysanthemum, one of hundreds on the plant. once again, this looked pretty plain and uninteresting in the viewfinder when i shot it. but i love the detail in the photo, especially the variations in color and the veining on the petals.

a saturday in mid-october

begins at the farmers' market with macoun apples, homemade rolls, and beautiful freshly dug carrots for a dollar a bunch. continues at home with the little girl opening dried bean pods, plunking the seeds in a bowl to save for spring planting. smelling each sad herb plant one final time before heaving them all into the compost. raking piles of leaves to leap into and roll about in, shrieking with laughter, as the girl films for posterity. ends in the sitting spot, quiet and alone, with a cup of tea, a grateful heart, and leaves in my hair.

last one

in hindsight, i suppose i should have blogged months ago about the serendipitousness of finding a limited edition bag of tootsie pops containing all chocolate, rather than writing now about the sad occasion of indulging in the last remaining confection.

early chill

cold enough tonight for the first fire of the season. it seems so early. hope it's not an indication of things to come...

fall, leaves

this picture is probably bad from a technical standpoint. but i find it kind of fascinating in a bizarre way. it was taken in the yard with the macro. the pink blur in the corner is the little girl who had just seconds before scooped up an armful of leaves and tossed them high. and there they are, suspended. sort of.

still life with pears

the girl has a pear tree in her yard and it's loaded with fruit. she shared and here they are. not sure what to do with them all. pear sauce? pear crisp? pear pie? maybe i'll just eat them. and because they're so small, i'll do it a pair at a time.

merry columbus day

if it's columbus day weekend, can christmas be far behind? i purchased these at the post office this morning when i went in to buy forever stamps. the clerk told me holiday stamps were flying off the shelves and if i waited too much longer i might not be able to find any when it was time to send christmas cards. jeez.

friday night ritual

at the restaurant with the little girl we color as we wait for our dinners. she giggles with glee each time i color in one the characters' eyes or nose, then grabs the red and scribbles in great round strokes. when the food comes, she helps herself to the side order of rice, spooning it onto her plate with great tenacity and care. later we go home, put on pajamas and socks and snuggle on the couch with books. friday evening is for babysitting - because i want to. the anticipation sometimes gets me through the week.

fall décor

today, the annual gathering of the bittersweet, a native vine that is a traditional aspect of fall decorating here. every october, a new jumble of vine is clipped while in its yellow-berried state, stripped of its leaves, and carefully placed in this carved wooden trencher. overnight, the yellow casings split and pop open, revealing its bright orange seed pod inside. then the arrangement dries beautifully and remains in place through the fall and winter months, a golden and orange riot of color atop the living room cupboard, high up by the beams.