passing under this chandelier and walking out the door late this afternoon signified the end of a big project, the last of several this spring. it's been a very long, very busy month of may. i'm looking forward to a quiet and unhurried last two days before june sets in and busy begins all over again.
new growth on this unexpected maple in the garden at the girl's house. just look at the bilateral symmetry in those tiny new red leaves.
citizens of new england, rise up! for the second time in a dozen years, nabisco has ceased production of these simple crackers. eaten alone and unadorned, pilot crackers taste like their original name implies - like hardtack, a bland flat bread first made in the late 1700s for sailors to take for months at sea. but crumble one of these crunchy rectangles into clam chowder or butter it and eat it alongside a bowl of chowder and pilot crackers take on a whole new flavor and consistency. it's practically a new england staple and a must for chowder lovers like me. the last time these crackers were taken from us, there was a grassroots movement to bring them back. at that time, nabisco got hundreds of letters. and that was before the internet, before email, and before blogs. so let your voice be heard. desperate times call for deperate measures, people.
hands down, my favorite springtime flower. love the tiny white bells, the heavenly scent, the way the plants spread through the garden. and that it's the birth flower for may.
look at the size of the mushrooms on this tree! every time i pass by, they seem bigger with more protuberance. i wonder if they ever get heavy enough to fall off. I wonder if they're edible. i wonder if chipmunks ever stand on them and watch the world go by.
at the end of a crazy day i stop at river's edge, looking for fish or frogs or flora or some springtime photo op. and all i find is sunlight and stillness. so i snap away, staying for more time than i probably should.
the last time i saw a sign like this at a gas station, it read 36¢ a gallon. to see prices like this on a sign that retro feels wrong on so many levels. btw, this place even had a red pegasus weathervane on top of a cupola. and it even turned with the wind.
it was good to get into the woods again after a winter of deep snow. i went out this evening looking for trillium and lady slippers but found none. with nothing camera-worthy on the forest floor, i decided to look up and was captivated by the designs of all that's in bud and bloom and leaf.
and these are the right-on-schedule flowers referenced in the previous post. but i'm not too sure what these have to do with sowing while you're young.
aka trailing arbutus or ground laurel. you know, the plants that april showers bring. small and pinkish white, these flowers hide beneath broad, hairy leaves and have the most amazing scent. mayflowers seem late this year, blooming alongside wild oats which are right on schedule. maybe it's just spring racing to catch up with itself.
finally, the sink is cleared and dishes are put back in the cupboards. and as i washed them, i was at first startled, and then delighted by this little face peeking in through the kitchen window at me. looks a bit like a wookiee, don't you think?
a rainy weekend with unlimited opportunities for work and sleep and catching up and not many chances for photographs. but during a lull in the showers, i stepped gingerly through the saturated grass to check the status of daffodils in both bud and bloom.
disregarding the layer of winter grime, early morning sunlight streams through the window and reflects brightly off the pots and pans i have had no time to wash this week. and you wonder why i haven't blogged. tgif.
this week i also spent time in my old home town, a place filled with ancient haunts as well as a plethora of new business enterprises. this vane sits atop one such place, a fast food restaurant, on the outskirts of a sprawling new shopping center containing supermarkets, a video store, a discount department store, a major chain drug store, and many more new storefronts. all businesses that did not exist during my formative years of corner drug stores and teenage hangouts. and many of the businesses in this new place sport this same pig weathervane, even though there is nary a reference to pigs in the name of the plaza. but us old townies, we get the joke. this shopping center is built on land that, back in the day, was the biggest pig farm in town. and every time i pass the place, i suppress a snort of laughter and just smile at the irony.
yikes. imagine washing windows like this. what is it that's holding them there, halfway up the side of this glass building. is it rope? cable? whatever it is, i hope it's made of heavy metal. 
one of my favorite things about spring is all the different shades of green that appear all at once. like these beautiful chartreuse flowers of this maple tree, glorious against a clear blue sky.
have been spending time this week going in and out of boston. such a busy place with so much to see and to notice. my eyes keep catching photo ops and i'm sorry i do not have my good camera. now, see all the chinese lettering? even for dunkin donuts on the corner.
a week ago, i joined the ranks of those who wear these silly shoes. i chose a neutral color, so as not to look too clownish, and i bought them specifically to wear while gardening. but since i first slipped my feet into them, just to get used to the feeling, mind you, i admit i have had a hard time not wearing them. the things are virtually weightless. walking in them is like walking on marshmallow fluff. and they have big wide toes so nothing is squished. i confess i have worn them twice in public, and further admit that one of those times was to school, where a student admired them, she said, becuase they're the same color as my hair. perhaps i should go back for the lime green pair.
although it's spring on the cape and i took many many pictures of plants and trees in bloom, it's this dead grass head from last season that i consider my best shot of the weekend. i like the muted background and way the plant in the foreground gracefully curves back into itself. 
this is the weathervane atop seafood sams, home of the world's best lobster bisque. the stuff is decadent - smooth and creamy and thick with chunks of lobster suspended within. no need to augment the taste with salt or pepper or even the tiny package of oyster crackers served alongside. this lobster bisque is perfection. and a bowl of it makes the perfect first-night-on-the-cape meal.
this is the cape cod canal which separates cape cod from the mainland of new england. held out the camera and snapped this from the moving car as i headed over the bridge this afternoon for a much anticipated weekend of rest, relaxation, and good company. my host says when i'm on cape cod, i can do anything i want. so i plan to do very little.
oh there it is! the tealight from the new years eve ice candle lighting the darkness at the end of the walkway. buried under snow and ice all these months. its interesting the things found hidden in melting snow. a ring, coins, the lost button from your winter coat, the missing house key. and the christmas ornament from the tree you were sure you stripped before it left the house four months ago.
grief comes in two parts. first the initial shock of the death, and all the emotions that accompany the church services and internment. and next comes the slow numbing realization that life will continue on without the departed. no more visits, no more phone calls, no more conversation, no more contact. except in your heart. 
here is my friend pat, doing what she always did best: finding wonder and awe in the most ordinary of objects and situations. she was an inspiration in that way for me and especially for this blog. even the title is a derivation of serendipity, the name pat gave to her home. when she could, pat visited this space and, since she wasn't sure how to comment, she always phoned to marvel at the poor efforts posted here. she was a good friend like that. godspeed, pat. thanks for the memories. thanks for enriching my life. and i miss you already.
at dusk, tonight's waxing crescent moon, just 6% illuminated. at this point, earthshine, or sunlight reflected off the earth, can be seen lighting the dark part of the orb. the more poetic term for this phenomenon: the old moon in the new moon's arms.
although i've seen them by the side of the road in places south of here, this sunday morning robin is the first i've seen in the yard. when i put some cranberries out on the snow, he flew off. i hope he's able to find holly berries or last season's crabapples.
the best thing about teaching spring semester is that spring always arrives on campus before it shows up anywhere else. seen yesterday at the university: flip-flops, shorts, a convertible, open dorm windows, evening gatherings on porches, and these snowdrops scattered about under a tall tree.
how on earth can i feed my lawn when i can't even find my lawn??? surely this mailing must have been intended for someone in... say, north carolina.
observed by the side of the road glistening white in the evening sunlight. the first sign of regrowth after a much-too-lengthy period of dormancy.
the foggy kind that comes when the air is warm and the snow is still cold. a murky ride home this evening but the drivers side window was cracked, the air smelled like mud and birds were singing in the trees!
there are two kinds of people in the world. those who like pea soup and those who don't. emotions run deep with this subject. pea soup lovers are passionate about the stuff and pea soup haters are repulsed by it. never have i met anyone who could take or leave pea soup. i myself am a huge fan of pea soup as is my mother before me. unfortunately for her, i did not pass the pea-soup-loving gene on to the girl. but fortunately for me, she married a pea soup kind of guy. so today i make the annual after-easter pea soup. for me, for my mom, and for my son-in-law with the discerning palate.
with yet another winter storm warning posted for tonight into tomorrow, i now read that this area is poised to set a new record for snowfall in a season. 112.4 inches thus far with an additional 4" to 8" predicted with this storm. record snowfall is 122". we've come this far. i say we just go for broke.
this little fellow kept scampering up and over the snowbank outside the window and then down between the packed snow and the house. i don't even want to think about where he was going from there.
at a breakfast with good friends to celebrate the arrival of spring. such as it is.
more snow today. but at least it was the heavy wet kind that signals the end of winter. the same kind that lays white skeletal patterns on dark pine boughs.
by the side of a frost heave-ridden back road there stands this ancient maple all tapped and ready to put forth sweet spring sap for maple syrup production. this sight is sign of spring #2 - with the frost heaves being sign of spring #1.
oh yum! bananas for lunch! good thing babies don't determine food preference by appearance. oh yuck!
later today my first opportunity to babysit at my house. and since the baby girl is now mobile i've been babyproofing all week. finally at a finishing point (or so i thought) i shot this from the floor. yes, after i vaccumed and washed it. no matter - i was going to follow her around her whole life anyway.
hmmmm. what can i disguise in this lovely tall hinged-lid wooden-handled basket i bought this afternoon for a paltry four dollars??? 
looking for a change of scenery this morning i shift my work to the small bedroom desk. at least there when i glance up i can see outside and up into the woods to watch the snow fall. since it's lion-like in its entry, here's hoping the new month of march goes out like the lamb it's supposed to.
