old things

off on an antiquing adventure this weekend and, after marveling at all sorts of beautiful and interesting items, this is the one i came away with. not only does it slice eggs three different ways - horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, it plays beautiful music when the cutting wires are plunked. i know this. i used to do it back in the old days, when i was a child.

damp & dreary

big plans, fun plans, for the weekend and i've been so anxious to be outside with the camera. but it looks like even more rain is in store. here's hoping skies will be overcast and showers just intermittent.

equinox weekend

yesterday, in a rush, i came up over a rise and saw fall for the first time. there in the distance, one red maple in the midst of all the summer's green. it's coming! so today i went out with my camera, just for a little while, to see if i could find more. it felt pretty good to be out, just watching, just looking.

end of the season

the last corn of the season tonight for dinner, with the final scrapings of the dill butter made in july. the ocd in me loves when silly things like this come out serendipitously even.

nature's gold

found just this morning, laying in the middle of this rock. it looked like gold in the sunlight, like a pin to wear on a russet brown or burnt orange jacket. i saved it, pressed it into a book about seasonal changes. in a few weeks, when i turn the pages to read about autumn, i'll find it again.

final show

after hanging on through the blockbuster and netflix years, the small video store in our town is now closing its doors. i worked a second job there once, nights and weekends, when the girl went off to college and the house was too quiet. i studied for graduate classes there, between checking out vhs tapes for customers and returning rented ones to the shelves. i worked with wonderful, funny women. i got to know my neighbors. it was a rich time in my life.

the "going out of business sign" drew me in. they were selling off their stock and it was cheap. i went to the drama section and found it: the movie i loved to play when i was working. i haven't seen it in years, but i bought it, just to have it, just for old times' sake.

gone

"labor day", the kid said when I asked how much longer the ice cream stand would be open. where, oh where has the summer gone?

the last hurrah

nothing like waking up first thing in the morning

and remembering you're at the ocean!

wildly curious

seeing this sign makes me want to go grab a book, an apple, my phone, and my water bottle and camp out here all day long, waiting for that baby animal to cross the road. 

picking crab

picking crab is certainly not what i thought it would be. it's not choosing a crab - it's picking the meat out of the shell. i've picked lobster a lot and thought it couldn't be all that different. but i was wrong.

first of all, the implements are different. no nutcracker for this job - the tools of the trade are beach rocks and vices and hammers! these crab shells were so much harder than even the hardest shell lobster. the meat was in the same place - in the legs, the claws, and the bodies. but crabs are so much smaller than lobsters, and the amount of meat you have to work for is minuscule in comparison to the amount you get from a lobster. and it takes so long! the shells are the same hue as the meat so it's easy to get small hard remnants mixed in with the collected meat. crunch!

before we even began the task, i watched this video of a woman from downeast maine who was skilled at picking crab. she made it look so easy and painless! but it was very difficult and no fun. the small amount of meat, as tasty as it was, was not worth the aggravation.

i think if folks from small northern maine fishing villages ever go to hell, picking crab is what they must have to do for eternity. in my humble opinion.

downeast

i've recently had a much-needed week away and a much-appreciated visit with good friends. these are a few of my favorite random shots.

a bald eagle greets me the minute i step from the car! i took about a gazillion shots, but really wanted to capture him as he lifted off from the rocks. i waited and i waited, but finally looked away to swat at an annoying mosquito. that's when he took off - and when i missed the shot!

all around my host's house, thistle grows. a fascinating flower with interesting thorny leaves. i'm always so happy when the blooms coincide with my visit. 

again this year, we visited with a 91 year old woman in town. she's vibrant and so interesting and i hope i grow up to be just like her. i watched her face closely as she talked across the table, eyes lighting up and wrinkles coming and going, and she was beautiful. i so wanted to take her picture, then desaturate it to black and white, showing all those wonderful creases and lines. but i settled for her pincushion, tucked into the corner of the sill by her open window.

revelation

every morning, within a few minutes of waking, i think about this blog, and how i've neglected it this summer. truly, i've been really busy with work issues and personal matters, my mind has been scattered for weeks, and i just haven't found much inspiration. but, for a brief time at the start and end of the day, i've felt so badly about not posting. guilty even.

so this morning, as i'm stumbling around making coffee and mental to-do lists, i'm thinking maybe it's time to just quit blogging and move on to instagram or pinterest or some other social site. or abandon my web presence, such as it is, altogether. and i happen to glance out the window and i see this: in the still morning air of my backyard, six turkey babies, inches from my door, casually pecking their way through the rain-soaked grass, making soft clucking sounds to each other as they hunt for their meal. on the hill above, the mother, standing watch over her poults as they feed. i stop. i stay still. i lean into the doorjam and i watch for a long, long time. and as i stand there, coffee pot still in hand, it dawns on me: i've just been too damn busy this summer to even take the time to notice. and that is shameful and sad.

 

milkweed up close

so that's how milkweed pods form from the flowers! 

and look who's already feeding on the plant!

the circus

this past week, the circus came to our town. the little girl and i had had our tickets for weeks, and we had talked of little else. we drew circus pictures, read circus books, looked at circus websites and we counted down the days.

the morning of the circus, she and i were up and out early with a picnic breakfast to watch the big trucks roll in to our small town. in the clear morning air, we watched the lead trucks park and saw the first workers disembark, dressed in jeans and sweats, with ponytails and caps, ambling around slowly, yawning as they drank from big paper cups. presently more long red tractor trailers arrived, some with clowns painted on the side, some with windows suggesting animals on board. we watched while workers swung wide their trailer doors, popped the sides on campers, released small dogs into pens, and began the work of setting up the cages for the tigers. in a while, animals emerged from the backs of trucks, slow-moving and old, plodding down ramps to be tethered or caged. tigers. camels. a zebra. llamas. we so hoped for elephants, but we could not wait. in time, we needed to move on to other less exciting events of the day.

by late afternoon, we were back for the first show, elated to see the ball field transformed with cages, canopies, and wagons. in the middle sat the giant circle of a tent, reaching high above the midway and festooned with pennants. inside the big top, we sat high in the bleachers, laughing as pink cotton candy dissolved in our mouths while we waited for the show to begin. to our delight, the ringmaster appeared, calling out, "la-deez and gentlemen, and children of all ages...", just as we knew he would. for the next two hours, we marveled at acrobatic tricks and laughed at the slapstick antics of clowns. we hooted as a swashbuckling pirate balanced on two, then three, then four cylinders. we held our breath as the aerialist swung so high and so fast, she touched the top of the tent with her toes. we applauded elephant tricks and the sequined ladies who climbed up high and rode astride them. we were amazed by the tigers, standing and dancing on hind legs as they pawed the air and roared for the crowd.

all too soon, the show was over. a wobbly camel ride and the purchase of an overpriced inflatable elephant finished the evening. reluctantly we walked from the circus grounds, stealing glimpses back, knowing we would have been happy to attend still another performance, to visit again with the elephants, to experience the magic well into the night.

and as quickly as it came, the circus was gone. the next morning, the field was empty, with not even a discarded ticket stub to show that such an amazing event had taken place there the night before. the circus trucks and trailers were gone, taking the animals and the clowns and the sequined performers to some other rural spot to thrill some other little girl - and perhaps her grandmother, even more.

seaside plants

going through vacation photos tonight, i realize just how many pictures of plants i took! i know the rugosa rose, of course (the whole place smelled like them!) and orange jewelweed and tiny not-yet-gray bayberry. but i don't know the name of the green berry that matures to red. it grows high on a bush, not close to the ground. any ideas?

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.

beach flowers

not at all sure what these diminutive flowers are, but they thrive here on the rocky outcroppings of the north atlantic.

fireworks!

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

independence day

gotta love small town parades. kids on bicycles, decorated convertibles and pick-up trucks, candy tossed to the crowds from makeshift floats, and lots of red, white, and blue! happy fourth of july!

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.

not yet full

but still so beautiful, especially because it's over the ocean. i'm so looking forward to full moon rise tomorrow night and hope the skies are as clear as they are this night.

smart

finally.
and it's about time.

baking day

we're baking this morning, the little girl and me. it's a pound cake i've not made in ages and ages. one look at the list of ingredients will explain why! but we are baking today for a crowd and this cake will go a long way. so much learning about fractions and math, letters, reading and writing fill our morning. the only catastrophes - an oozing egg that missed the cup, and someone forgot to grease the cake pan!

still here

such a busy time of year, even now. still trying to close out my year in two locations, and additionally this week, i am spending my days taking care of the little girl. even though the days are fun and filled with laughter, nights are spent at work. here, unusual, undulating cloud formations in the evening sky as i left the building for home.

start of summer

the tiniest bit of orange in an indian paintbrush nestled amidst the abundant green of grasses up on the hill. from afar, it catches my eye this morning, on this first day of summer.

resting place

dragonflies have been sitting at the tip of the garden trellis all morning for the second saturday in a row. i watch them from my desk, wings glistening in the sun, resting for what seems too long periods of time. not sure what the appeal is to that location, other than a bug's eye view of the lupine, the peonies, the evening primrose, and the expanse of emerald grass beyond.

june 12 of 12: just an apology

sadly, there will be no 12 of 12 for the month of june. this morning, i thought i might be able to accomplish this but by mid-afternoon, i knew it was impossible. early june life is just too busy for anything more than this one evening shot. it's the raspberries in the yard by the comfrey. look at those tiny green fruits growing where the flowers have been. maybe theres 12 drupes? druplets? in there? maybe?

little things

a lovely fragrant end of year bouquet from a student's family, beribboned and presented in a canning jar along with a note of thanks. such a sweet gesture, so very much appreciated.

focus

in the foreground: comfrey.

in the background: raspberries!

white on white

a stark white moth, resting this evening in the shade garden, spotted as i rushed from the car between work-at-work and work-at-home. busy time of the year, june is. i miss taking pictures. i miss blogging.

meterological summer

today marks the first day of meteorological summer - june, july, and august, the three months traditionally thought of as summertime. i like this new-to-me fact, and i'll take it. i'd much rather have summer begin today than wait twenty more days for the astrological start to the season.

right over my head

for over a quarter century, i have lived in this house and walked in this yard. i take joy in noticing the small things here - i know where all the native plants are and when and how they change with the seasons. yet this is the first time i have glimpsed this phenomenon, which clearly has been going on high above my head, all this time. this abundance of yellow in a common green pine, so far away i couldn't quite make out what it was. with binoculars first and then the telephoto lens, i found these. are they pine cones? is this how they begin their formation?

every time i think i know it all, nature serendipitously displays something else curious and wondrous.

so many wishes

a huge field of dandelions, more than i've ever seen in one place, and every one of them gone to seed. imagine being there when a brisk wind comes along and all the tiny seeds fly!

new green on old

this time of year, greens in every shade and variation abound. but nowhere are they more apparent than on the evergreens - when the new growth, with its tender young sprouts, emerge from the previous year's darker green branches. the promise of spring fulfilled!