light times two

in the foreground, one of my window candles, this year battery-operated ones on a timer set in early december to coordinate with dusk. in the background, a large hill, probably a mile or so away, brightly lit by the rays of the sinking sun. i should have reset the timers weeks ago, but every evening this sight is a joyous reminder that the days really are getting longer and longer.

morning crescent

brilliant blue sky this morning with birdsong and a waning crescent moon. already, the sun is warm on my face. these are the days i wait for all winter long.

blue twilight

the shift to daylight saving time brings erratic sleep patterns, crazy dreams, and general feelings of internal disarray. i am having a hard time shaking it this year. but i can again walk - nay, mosey - in the evening, and that is good.

january: hygge

of all the months of the year, january is my least favorite. it's cold. it's dark. and it's long. this january hasn't been as bad as others since snowstorms have been few and insignificant. but still i can't wait for this month to be over.

in truth, january never had a chance. i was dreading this month before it even started. so i've built in some activities and oddities to get me through these long weeks. i saved a certain book to read. i have a short, specific list of small projects to accomplish around the house. i have lunch and coffee dates with friends sprinkled throughout the month. for fun, i'm writing all my lists on round paper in a spiral fashion. i'm practicing daily something silly that i've wanted to try for a while now. i'm planning a summer garden. and i'm sitting myself down to a movie every week.

i read this month about hygge, an interesting danish cultural concept. it involves objects, traditions, and activities to brighten the dark winter months and promote well-being. in some odd way, i must have begun to intuit this mindset a few years ago, and now leave the clear christmas lights in the windows and on the mantle until at least march, light candles and oil lamps when darkness falls, and try to get together with friends and family regularly. maybe the lists, books, and projects just add to it a little. anyway, for mid-january, i think i'm doing all right - but i'll still be really glad when it's finally february.

morning, uneventful

this frosty morning, shot from the dark kitchen to the bleak outside - through the uplifting images of a festooned candle, a globe of milkweed fluff, and a gingerbreadman cutter, still standing after his counterparts have all been packed away.

the mighty oak

walking up from the mailbox this frosty morning, i stop to marvel at an oak leaf standing upright in the grass, backlit by the sun. and i'm delighted when it doesn't topple over as i hurry inside to fetch my camera. 

the ride home

sunset, on the road home. all i had was my little camera and i was so sorry. it had stormed heavily and was just clearing as the sun set. the clouds over the river valley were magical. 

needful things II

always, i've loved to burn candles - candles everywhere, all over the house! i like the light, the ambiance, the scent, the way a flame quiets the soul. but over the years, i've cut back on candles a lot. they sometimes leave soot on the ceilings. so much of the candle is wasted after the wick is gone and wax remains. and most candles have a link to petroleum products which feels wrong to me. i've replaced lots of candles with the newish battery operated ones and, from a distance, they'll suffice. but the one candle i won't give up is this soy one that i found years ago. heavily and heavenly scented, clean and slow burning, no waste, and i reuse the jars after they're cleaned. it's my other needful thing, my guilty pleasure. i allow myself one candle a month and burn it mostly at night, after the dishes are done and the kitchen's cleaned and dark. while i write or read or work nearby, the scent drifts out to me and the flickering light calms me. 

my order had arrived when i got home too late last night, and i waited until this morning, until i had my tea, to open the carton. i unpacked my april candle first and lit it, and the scent of a maple filled the kitchen. there were other candles as well - lavender lemongrass, chamomile, basil & berries, lemon drop, and for september - indian summer. before i stashed them away, i opened each surprise and i sniffed, a heady preview of the scents of my summer nights! 

morning light

this time of year, when the sun rises due east, i love to stand quietly for a minute and watch the morning light angle its way into the house. it looks hopeful, springlike. and this morning, i hear birdsong.

spring sky

cumulous clouds at sunset on the first evening of april. 

pink on blue after a winter of too much white & gray.

snow diamonds

i have long tried to capture this, the sparkle of the winter snow when it is new. and there it was early this fine spring morning - right there in front of me.

solstice 2012

it's the longest night of the year. we welcome the return of light. darkness has been with us long enough.

on the walking path

this is the view at the end of the trail that leads from the house to the water. this lighthouse, rebuilt and renovated, was originally commissioned in 1806 to guide sailors safely to shore. it's awe-inspiring to think that two hundred years ago, on a clear summer day much like this one, someone may have stood on this very spot to gaze across the channel at this same sight.

fireworks!

over the calm ocean, the day old full moon competes with a lightning storm at sea. nature's fireworks for the fourth!

shell moon

amazing the colors of the full moon in the evening sky over the ocean. the full buck moon is what the july moon is called in new england, named for the time when the new velvety antlers of deer begin to push through their foreheads. but deer and woods are so far removed from this place tonight. the rising moon i see is the pale pink of the inside of a slipper shell and i am renaming it after that. just for tonight.

morning mist

hazy light shines through the early morning mist, making the landscape especially ethereal. thankful i had the chance to get out, still pajama-clad and barefooted, to shoot in it before the mist rose, burned off, and was gone.

by the lake

when the weather starts to warm, i go to check the nearby the lake and catch the day when the ice goes out. i was there this evening, and it looks like that day is very close. one day of good stiff wind and this winter's ice will break up and be gone. in the meantime, my favorite lakeside tree is in flower - very early this year, like everything else green and growing.

codeine dreams

a few minutes ago, i was jolted awake by the most terrifying nightmare, one in which i was sleeping and was jolted awake - and i can't even go into more detail than that. but as i stood trying to still my racing heart and get my bearings, i looked out and saw this image of nighttime tranquility. in an effort to find reality and lose the dream, i post this for you.

evening light

looking out the window, february 1st, 5:18 in the evening. and even though it's dark enough for the solar lights to come on, it's light enough to still see outside.

almost midnight

almost light outside with the full moon-after-yule.