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?

may 12 of 12: the may flowers that april showers bring

twelve flowers from the garden and the yard. i snapped, snapped, snapped quickly so i could get out and get my hands dirty in their soil on this spectacular saturday!

bleeding heart, aptly named.

daffodils, still. these are the last ones. 

tiny with multiple flowers on each stem - my favorites.

forget-me-nots. 

started from one small plant several years back, 

they are now everywhere!

a lone johnny-jump-up. 

he's the only one i have in the whole yard. 

guess he jumped up out of nowhere!

lenten rose. not much to look at, 

but delicate and early blooming. and a wonderful name. 

i have about six of these, different varieties, different colors. 

money plant

from seed that was scattered into the woods by the yard. 

i keep waiting for these to produce real money. no such luck. 

pink phlox on the bank - and look! a tiny insect!

wild strawberries. everywhere. 

violets. also everywhere. 

white lilac. there are two huge bushes. 

they don't smell as good as purple ones

but i like them better anyway. 

white phlox. grows near the pink phlox!

some sort of yellow primrose. 

these came from an acquaintance's garden. 

not sure why i like these so much, 

but they're one of my favorites in the garden. 

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march 12 of 12: rush hour

i know 12 of 12s are supposed to chronicle a day, the 12th of each month. but i wanted to see if i could fit twelve pictures into one hour's time. and what better hour than the busiest one of the day - between waking up and getting out the door. here i go!

this is the first weekday morning after the start of daylight saving time. it was so difficult to get up - after weeks of growing light, it's dark in the morning again. the first thing i see after i roll out of bed - the moon, still in the sky. and even some stars. it's way too early to be up. 

i hit the computer's power button on my way to the kitchen, drag a brush through my hair to get it out of my eyes so i can see. i'll be back with the first cup of coffee to check email, weather, and the overnight news. oh - and the iditarod, which i have been following closely since it began on the 3rd. 

these tulips fairly glow in the overhead light of the kitchen. they're such a vibrant, cheery color and i'm glad i bought them over the weekend. this close to spring, i'm so encouraged to see things green or in bloom. 

off to the bathroom with coffee. time for make-up, even though i'd rather use the time for something else. sometimes i don't know why i bother with this routine. i think i look the same with make up as i do without it. some morning i'm going to do only the right half my face and see if anyone even notices. 

hair products. three of them. and i need them all. 

back to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. i made two so i could take one for the ride. but my circadian rhythms must be out of sync with the time change. i'm not waking up well and i really need this extra cup now. 

when i dry my hair, i hang it over my head and blow it dry it upside down. as i do this, i am close enough to the tile floor to be able to see every minuscule piece of lint or dust or wood shaving. see them? every morning, i stop working my hair for a moment and blow these offending particles off into the adjoining room where they don't look as glaring on the wood floor. and i clean it up later in the day. 

pocket stuff. i always have pockets, have to have them. and i know exactly which item goes in which pocket. 

the morning darkness surprises me again and i need to turn on another light to be sure i wear shoes that match. i haven't had to do that in weeks. 

a perfect banana for an on-the-go breakfast. it takes a long time to get them like this, all freckled but not soggy. i'll be eating a lot of bananas in the next few days. 

lunch, packed and ready to go. all last week, i took soup because i'd been sick. but today, it's a yogurt day! i guess i'm feeling better!

and i'm out the door, on time, wearing a jacket instead of a coat. i stand on the step for a moment, breathing the morning air, listening to birds really sing. for the first time, it almost smells and sounds like spring is in the air! 

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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. 

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.

november 12 of 12: shades of brown

fall's blinding colors have been gone for weeks now. except for the flat green of pines and hemlock, the rest of the november landscape goes to a profusion of browns. time was when i thought it so drab but now i see there's something quiet and calming and restful about this color in all its glorious shades.

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by november, the wood is in. oak, maple, birch, beech. it's sat for a year to dry out and is seasoned now and ready to burn. it sits stacked outside the door, a wall of brown, ready to be called upon to take the fall chill off and keep this old house warm well into the winter.

the forest floor is covered in browns, nature's november carpet, stretching far, far into the woods, just as far as the eye can see.

after they fall, most leaves dry up and their edges curl into themselves. not so with oaks. their umber leaves hang on to their branches longer and, when they finally do fall, they are broad and flat against the ground, a ragged piece of brown paper, blowing along end over end in the wind. 

beech leaves have turned a uniform, muted brown but will not fall. they stay on the tree for much of the winter making a dry chattering sound when the winds blow fierce and the snowflakes whirl.

so many pods are dry and opening in november, dropping seeds that will settle into the earth with the hopes of rebirth in the spring. these are the bean pods remaining on the poles after the little girl collected a basketful to split open. she has the purple mottled seeds packed away in their round cardboard box for replanting in the spring, just as she has done for most of the novembers of her life. 

the once vibrant morning glory plants are now spent. i should unwind them from their trellis. but i love seeing the way the brown weaves in and around itself and how the pods are plump with seed. i'll leave them for the winter, hoping that they not only add interest to the snowy landscape in february, but that they also may reseed themselves in the spring. i can hope, can't i?

weeds are lovely and so interesting this time of year. i have no idea what this is but it represents so many common plants that line the roadsides and the edges of the woods. hundreds of tiny brown seeds ready to burst forth airborne when they catch the winds.

and here's another...

look at these maple pods. you can see that the double pod has split, leaving the seeds on either side ready to root themselves firmly in the grass where they will no doubt be run down by the lawnmower in may. good thing there are hundreds of these winged pods on the ground, everywhere.

once a gorgeous blue, the hydrangea are now lifeless brown on the bush. but look at the intricacies in the  oval petals now that the color is not there to blind the observer.

i'm not sure these are pods. i wonder if they may be seeds or even spores. i know they're from a fern that grows in the woods around here. i gather bunches of these in november and scatter arrangements in places where i can admire the stoic shiny brown all winter long.

finally, so many special fall drinks are brown. apple cider. pumpkin spice coffee. hot chocolate. cocoa chai. warm soothing drinks to sip by the fire and chase away the november chill. 

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