february 12 of 12: a few of my favorite things

today dawned bright, sunny, and bitterly cold. my planned 12 of 12 for the month involved venturing out-of-doors, and i early on decided not to. in an effort to salvage the project, i started to showcase some of the everyday items in the house that give me small joys. i am by no means a "material girl" - but these things, i just love.

this cabinet. i bought it on impulse for $100 that i didn't have many, many years ago. i painted it this odd color because i just liked the teal, then built the room around it. some might think it's a tad shabby, but every time i polish it or put something inside, i'm glad all over again that i bought it.

these candles. it's all i burn these days. hand-made soy, with amazing combinations of scents. i allow myself only one of these candles a month. and when it's gone, it's gone.

pottery. crocks and jars, vases and plates. none of them particularly of any value, many of them chipped, but all simple, utilitarian, and i love using them. this is one of the only pieces i have with an intact cover!

here's my vase of choice, a reproduction redware three-handled cup from a plimoth plantation in massachusetts, given to me by a friend. twice, a handle has broken off and twice, it's been repaired. i can't imagine why this would need three handles - i think that's part of the charm.

this is the measuring cup i've had all my adult baking life. it works well to dip into dry ingredients, it levels right at the one cup mark, and the 1/4, 1/2, and 3/4 markings are easy to see inside and out. recently, i found another almost identical measure in a consignment shop. now i have one for dry ingredients, one for wet. i'm a happy baker!

my favorite room in the house, probably because it's the one that stays the cleanest. it was the girl's when she was small and now serves as a guest room. i love this bed, one that i bought covered with horrid paint and stripped to find beautiful walnut with inlays. if i leave the door to this room open, i can see into it as i go through the living room. i like that.

i have lots of needlework around the place but this is one of my favorites. the girl made it for me one year for christmas. i like it so much, i just never take it down! by the way, my other favorite is here. 

this is far from my most intricate quilt but it's the one i like the best. i like the colors and the prints and the design. it hangs on my wall, in close proximity to that cabinet above, because in the light of that room, the greens/teals look like the same color, thank goodness! 

ranunculus, my new favorite winter flower. i'm always happy when i stop for friday flowers and these beauties are in the cooler. they last and last and those petals circle from the outside in and look like they never end.

my favorite socks. comfy. cozy. soft. warm. great colors. i have about seven pair of these, each in a different color yarn. i wear them all winter long, even around the house with birkenstocks. yes, i do.

for a grown woman, i have way too many teddy bears. this one's my favorite. it was my mother's, it came from harrod's in london, and she used to keep it on her bed. after she died, i bought it sweaters so the little girl could dress it up for holidays. yes, i did.

my favorite technology. it reads the conditions right outside the door. you know what a weather junkie i am. i love that these readings come from my own yard. and that it shows the phase of the moon.

i am so late with this month's 12 of 12 and only finish it because i had taken all the pictures. someone once told me that this would happen, that i'd get too busy to post within an acceptable period of time. silly me -  i didn't believe him. guess he was right after all. 

sitting out

a late night tonight at work and i arrived home well after dark. the evening was starlit and cold, the still, brisk sort of cold that permeates lungs, clears the mind, and eases the soul. so instead of making dinner, instead of checking email and voicemail, instead of starting homework or housework or coursework, i stayed outside. i sat outside, in the night. and for a good long time.

better late than never

there must be something truly magical about this spot by the window. it's the very same place where my cactus bloomed last year. and now look! my poinsettia from december 2010 is not only still alive (which in itself is nothing short of amazing), but now it's turning it's lovely flowery shade of pink - and all by itself. never has this happened to me and i don't even care that it's all taking place two months too late. i'll take it when i can get it!

candlemas

if candlemas day is clear and bright
winter will have another bite.
if candlemas day brings cloud and rain,
winter is gone and will not come again.

hoping the groundhog does not see his shadow.

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.

loraine's birds

my old friend and neighbor, loraine, moved away many years ago. i'm not sure what she fed them when she lived here but she always had the best birds at her feeders. when she left, i expected her birds would just migrate on over to my house. i eventually got her chickadees, her finches, and her titmice. but what i really wanted was her cardinals. and that was not to be. over the years, i would hear one in the woods, i could glimpse one in the treetops, i would see one streaking red in flight. but none ever came to feed. none ever came close enough to the house to photograph. until this week, that is! loraine, i think i finally have all your birds!

even a female!

ice twice

for the second time in the same week, freezing rain. it can be treacherous to walk on and nerve-wracking to drive in, but there's no denying it's beautiful...

on a lilac bud, poised and waiting for spring,

in frozen drips running the length of the clothesline,

when bending birch trees right down to the ground,

 even coating the antenna atop my car!

the ones that g̶o̶t̶ flew away

because the winter's been so mild and snowless, i've been lax about feeding the birds. i'm paying for it now, in chickadees and titmice and little else. don't misunderstand, i love those tiny birds but also revel in the variety that normally comes to the feeder in winter. so imagine my delight this morning to see robins at the holly, four birds that fled before i could fetch my camera. the same thing happened this afternoon with the woodpecker who flew from the suet block when he saw my telephoto lens. and the female cardinal, a rarity around here, who was ground feeding in the garden as i passed by the window. out came my camera and away she flew. this jay is the only fine feathered friend who sat still long enough to be snapped. perhaps i just caught him resting up for the impending storm.

winter glory

morning glory vines, encased in a sheath of ice from this afternoon's freezing rain. sights like this one make me happy i decided not to be so meticulous with garden clean up last fall. i was hoping for some winter interest - and here it is. 

waxing & waning

as a kid a long, long time ago, i remember a fascination with the moon. how did it change shape. why was it not consistently orange or yellow, large or small. and how could it follow us at night on rides home from my grandparents.

the fascination continues still. on full moon nights, i stand in the window, mesmerized, reluctant to give up the luminosity and go to bed. i check the moon phases on calendars and in almanacs. i sometimes watch and wait for moonrise.

but with all this attention to the moon, i still get confused with the terminology. i know that gibbous is the opposite phase of crescent - but when is the moon waning? when is it waxing? this part i just can't seem to keep straight, no matter how hard i try. but recently i found this little rhyme written by blogger susan branch:

when the moon is a sliver...

horns to the east, soon to be increased

horns to the west, soon to rest

so using this saying as a guide, i'm going to start paying more attention to the names of the phases the moon goes through each month. i really want to understand and get it right. now all i have to do is remember which way is east and which way's west. 

ultimate cookies

on the heels of the great gingerbread triumph, i have been trying to duplicate a colleague's toll house cookie recipe. it's on the bag of chocolate chips, she tells me, the generic kind not the nestlé ones. the recipes are practically identical; i tried them once over the holidays. but tonight i adjust the ratio of white sugar to brown, i plop down bigger scoops than i normally do, and i use parchment paper on the cookie sheet, something the girl has taught me to do. and i think it worked! now, what to do with all these perfect cookies...

coffee break

sad to say, i'm pretty compulsive about a lot of things, and coffee preparation is one of them. pictured here is the cup i always use at work. after i pour my coffee, i add creamers, one by one, tapping the bottoms to get the last drips of cream from each. when the first one is empty, i stuff its foil top back into the tiny container, put it down, then start on the second creamer. i do this four times, packing each fluted container into the previous empty one, making a stack, as shown. next comes two yellow packages of sweetener, with the empty sleeves crumpled, then packed into the topmost creamer of the stack. a swish with a spoon and i am done. the lid snaps on just so, with the sip hole lined up at a ninety degree angle to the cup's handle.

now if people would only make available a pint container of cream for my coffee, i wouldn't have to go through this compulsive ritual. well, the plastic part of it, anyway.

overlook

looking out over the river, up to the north, and beyond to the snow covered mountains on the horizon. this is where i live.

winter flowers

mid-january and we've finally had our first appreciable snowstorm. it's finally freezing. it's finally time to buy myself some flowers to ward off the winter woes. this weekend i bought stock. if ever i could blog a smell, this would be the one. it's pungent, spicy, smells a bit like cloves. heavenly. all day long, as i walk around in layers and fleece for the first time this winter, i wander by the stock, stick my nose in it, and inhale deeply. smells like winter!

almost midnight

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

just a dusting

it snowed yesterday, but not real winter snow. here we are in january, with virtually nothing on the ground. although i feel like a new england traitor, i'm sort of liking this winter. it's been unusually mild and i've not missed the snow, at least not yet. i like being able to walk outside without boots, to drive worry-free on clear pavement, to see still-green lawns and fields. at some point soon, i know i'll begin to worry about global warming and the environment. but right now, winter's feeling pretty good.

best laid plans

the older i get, the more i try to approach important events with no expectations, because i know better. generally speaking, the recent holidays were wonderful, but still, there were aspects that were a bit disappointing. in an effort to move on, i've been working this week to focus on the positive and just get over it. but now i'm wondering if other letdowns may be following me into the new year. which, by the way, has nothing at all to do with this photo. i just pass this abandoned vehicle often and i wonder about it.

missed opportunities of the galactic kind

tonight, the waxing gibbous moon shines directly overhead 

with jupiter bright below it. 

wednesday early, the quadrantid meteor showers in the east.

this month, saturn, venus, mars visible in the night sky...

i really need to get my telescope fixed!

have a little faith

recently, i read a blog that suggested that, in lieu of making new year's resolutions, one might focus on a single word as a guide throughout the coming year. i've been rolling this idea around in my mind for days now, wondering what my word might be, and i keep coming back to this one: faith.

in 2011, i watched two friends, one actual and one virtual, step out into uncertain territory, personal uncharted waters. not only did they both survive their ordeals, they are both unscathed and happy. they both relied heavily on their faith in God that things would work out as they should. and they did. it was powerful to watch.

for the first time in memory, there is so much uncertainty surrounding me as this new year begins - a question of executive leadership, a lagging economy, citizen protest, loved ones in afghanistan, changes in local funding, looming life decisions. it's a lot to think about, and a lot feels out of my control. although my religion is vitally important to me, faith in God is only a small part of what i'm hoping for this year. i hope for faith in rational people who will make good decisions in the best interest of the many, not the few. i want faith in our leaders to keep our country strong and proud and safe. i want faith that those i love can make it through any tough times and come out stronger on the other side. i want the security of knowing wherever life leads me or whatever choices i make, i'll be okay in the end.

on my 16th birthday, my mother gave me a gold charm bracelet with a single charm: a mustard seed, encased in an acrylic dome. on the back, tiny writing; a verse from Matthew - if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed...nothing shall be impossible unto you. as a new year begins, i find comfort in this, a message of faith and hope from so long ago. to keep faith at the forefront of this year, i'm wearing the charm as a necklace, always.

ringing out the old...

ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,

the flying cloud, the frosty light;

the year is dying in the night;

ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

ring out the old, ring in the new,

ring, happy bells, across the snow:

the year is going, let him go;

ring out the false, ring in the true.

ring out the grief that saps the mind,

for those that here we see no more,

ring out the feud of rich and poor,

ring in redress to all mankind.

ring out a slowly dying cause,

and ancient forms of party strife;

ring in the nobler modes of life,

with sweeter manners, purer laws.

ring out the want, the care, the sin,

the faithless coldness of the times;

ring out, ring out thy mournful rhymes,

but ring the fuller minstrel in.

ring out false pride in place and blood,

the civic slander and the spite;

ring in the love of truth and right,

ring in the common love of good.

ring out old shapes of foul disease,

ring out the narrowing lust of gold;

ring out the thousand wars of old,

ring in the thousand years of peace.

ring in the valiant man and free,

the larger heart the kindlier hand;

ring out the darkness of the land,

ring in the Christ that is to be.

alfred, lord tennyson, 1850.

the winter sun

this post is more for my reference than for your viewing pleasure, and i hope no one is too disappointed. this is a picture of the sun, taken a few minutes after noontime, when it's at its highest point in the sky. i'm so surprised it's that low and i've never noticed in winters past.

down time

feeling a bit lazy and nonproductive these post-christmas days. pajamas or sweats and no makeup, taking the time to sleep, sit, watch, read, discover, ponder, dream. and i don't yet feel guilty.

merry christmas to all!

and to all a good night!

i hope your christmases have all been magical!

solstice 2011

sleepless on the longest night of the year. in the sky no stars, no moon, just adding to the darkness. i light a candle to acknowledge the brief moment when earth begins its journey back towards light, and when i go back to sleep, i leave a single window candle lit to shine on through the rest of the dark night.

ice storm

the second best place to be during a surprise ice storm is behind a sander. the first best place to be during such a storm is home, which is where i now am and am happy to be.

holidaze

time is flying and christmas is nigh. i envy those who are all decorated and wrapped, and the folks who are christmas baking this week. if i bake at all, it will be in a furry on christmas eve day. i still have movies to watch, music to listen to, presents to wrap, and stockings to stuff. but in the meantime, i'm having fun with small people, watching their eyes light up and their voices raise as they talk about christmas with excitement and wonder. even if everything's not all done, it's still all good. hope it is the same for you.

all that glitter

an impromptu craft session this evening led to a veritable explosion of glitter all over the dining area and kitchen. with great abandon, we glittered gold and silver, the little girl and i, and then tried to clean it up. truly, i had forgotten how persistently clingy glitter can be. to clean our hands, we wiped, we soaked, and we scrubbed, finally resorting to the sticky side of tape to remove the last offending speckles. later tonight, cleaning the table and vacuuming the floor, i chase bright specks, trying to capture them with my cleaning cloths. finally i give up. just for tonight. in the morning, i will try again. but i am pretty sure we're still going to be finding glitter around here well into the new year.

small visitor

although she lives not far from here, normally i do not see the little girl during the week. my schedule, hers, her parents - all make a weekday visit difficult to arrange. but suddenly this evening she is at the door with her father, a quick stop to put the finishing touches on a carpentry project. in she marches, sheds her coat and hat, and fetches her slippers. she examines everything new since her last visit of four days ago, she gives a detailed update of the goings-on at school, she borrows a few christmas books, and then, she is gone, just as quickly as she came. back to her own home for supper and bedtime, with a promise of a return visit this weekend to help me finish decorating the tree. like a meteor on a dark night, a brief flash of exuberance on an otherwise ordinary weekday evening.

december 12 of 12: illumination

since we are days away from the longest night of the year, and since light is such an important part of our holiday celebrations, this month i attempted to focus the 12 of 12 on aspects of light, on illumination in the darkness. 

the moon, though waning, is still bright in the sky all night long and illuminates the landscape in the hours before dawn. here's the moon, still looking full and still hanging in the sky, early in the morning as i head in to work.

and by the time i am coming home, the first-star-tonight is out, shining brightly in a darkly blue sky. i'm pretty sure it's a planet, venus or saturn maybe, but i wish on it anyway. 

the tree on our town common. i can see it from far down the road, towering over the houses in the village. this tree is too big, it's too tacky, and it's just too beautiful.

this is a neighbor's yard, decorated for christmas. a single pine amongst the birches, lit with a million tiny lights. in the distance, a homey cabin complete with chimney smoke. i slow down every time i pass this peaceful scene. to me, it looks just like a christmas card. 

candles on all the windowsills this time of year. i light them all, then turn off the rooms' lamps. even if they are electric lights, their warm glow gladdens me. 

this windowsill candle spreads its dim light over the kitchen and the spicy rosehips in the holder, a miniature redware plate, and a special santa the girl made me many years ago. small things i love go on this tiny windowsill because it's the window i look out the most.

the golden lights of this tiny artificial tree in the kitchen reflect in the windows behind it and spread some light in an otherwise dark corner of the house. the little girl and i decided the animals in the woods up back might like to see a little christmas, too. 

and here's the "big" tree in the living room, still small by most standards. for years we've had a set of glasses, worn only at christmastime, to bend and shape the many light sources, turning them into explosions of color, a psychedelic experience for one's vision. but i've never taken a photo through them until now!

a crystal hanging in the window seems to have absorbed all the light in its proximity and, at night, fairly glows with reflected light.

and candles. everywhere candles. i light a few every night all year long, but at christmastime, i light them all. sometimes i even light one in the morning because it's still dark.

here are my new favorite candles. they're plastic and they run on batteries, yet they flicker and glow, and, to my mind, look real. i have many more of these than i ever imagined i would and it surprises me so that i like them as much as i do. a dimly lit room, a few of these candles flickering, and carols playing softly is heavenly on a dark night like tonight.

one last trip outside before bed to experience the moonlight illuminating the yard and up into the woods. again the moon shines, this night with a faint halo all the way around it. maybe it will snow for christmas.

billions of buds

just look at the buds on these supermarket christmas cactuses! how can they do that!! my plant is ten times that size and i'm lucky if it gets one blossom every year! i had to fight the urge to buy one of these. i figured the minute i got it into the house, all those buds would fall right off!

the end of gingerbreadmania

each december, for a few weeks, i go into a bit of a frenzy trying to replicate the recipe for the best gingerbread i have ever tasted. the gingerbread i have every first saturday in december when i go to the same ladies' aid christmas luncheon. the secret recipe gingerbread, made by sweet but closed-mouthed little church ladies in a remote village town.

i have blogged about it in decembers past - the backstory, if you want it, is here and here. today my quest came to an end thanks to elizabeth (whose name, of course, has been changed), a genial and warm member of the ladies' aid, who mailed me the recipe in her own hand after i gave her my name and address at this year's christmas luncheon. i made it today - spicy, warm, delicious. surprisingly simple - and, after all that, there isn't even a secret ingredient.

inside & out

holly inside.

holly outside.

it's starting to look like christmas!

someone else's santa

look what i found at a consignment shop, priced at only five dollars. isn't it pretty? when i see a handmade item like this one in a resale shop or antique store, it saddens me a bit and i wonder about its history. i know what goes into cross-stitch and how long it takes. someone spent time making this, probably to give to a loved one or a special friend. so how did it end up here? did no one want it? certainly, i do not need another santa, and my walls are full of cross-stitch pieces. but i turned over my five dollar bill and bought this because i couldn't just leave it in the store, on the shelf. so JR '92, wherever you are, thanks for the cute little santa!