the making of a student

this is my old student desk, the one my parents bought for me as i began junior high school. it's maple, with a smooth top and one board that has distinctly tiger markings. there are two drawers under the top, wide enough for notebooks and paper, narrow enough for pens and pencils. the bottom drawer is lined with cedar, and i was never quite sure why. maybe cedar helps to preserve books?

as a twelve year old, having such an important piece made me feel scholarly and smart, and i worked hard through my teen years to earn those distinctions. in a big and noisy family of nine, i had my own room and my own space to read and research, ponder and dream. i spent a lot of time there as a teenager, being studious, getting good grades, and learning to be comfortable as an introvert. i do believe that this desk made me the student that i still am, some sixty years later, still yearning for new knowledge and understanding, still moved by beautiful music and literature, still in awe of the natural world around me and the advances of science as they come.

this desk also belonged to each of my younger siblings, in the order of their birth. one spilled paint in the top drawer. one broke a drawer pull and it never sat right again. while sitting at the desk, one wrote in pencil under the kneehole as she sat, some scrawled message about loving some long-forgotten boy. one drilled a hole in the maple top for a computer cord. and many years later, when the youngest of us wanted it gone, i claimed it back as mine.

for a short while, it was the girl's and she used it for a computer stand. then it sat in a crowded guest room for decades, a repository for craft materials, old christmas cards, and assorted memorabilia. about a year ago, i cleaned it out and began a futile search for a family who might want it. i debated selling it and was told it wasn't worth the trouble. defeated, i took this photo to remember it by, then reluctantly donated the piece to habitat for humanity with explicit instructions to not allow me to buy it back.

the desk sat on their garage floor for six weeks. i know this because i visited it six sundays, running my hands along the top, opening and closing the drawers, inspecting the dovetailing and looking for a sign that i should just bring it back home with me. and then one day, it was gone - sold, a bookcase in its place. i was elated, relieved, and very sad.

and here is the blessing, the happy ending, the full circle: quite by accident, i found that my desk had been sold to the family of a seven year old i have known for several years. she's of school age now, and is a curious and funny little girl. her parents wanted a serious place for her to work - to read and research, to ponder and dream. and, it turns out, my desk is now the perfect place for her, too.

tea time - or coffee?

seems more and more, i turn to tea over coffee in the wintertime. it warms these bones, soothes a dry, scratchy throat, and smells fragrant and light. earl grey, ginger, english breakfast, lemon zinger, chai, all served steaming hot and laced with local honey from a young friend's bees. for breakfast, i need hot coffee, at least one cup, all year round. in summer, i'll drink iced coffee, and likely too much of it! but on sharply crisp, bright winter afternoons like this one, i'll take a mug of hot tea. how about you?

renovation

kitchen redo begins today. it's been a long time coming. i have no idea what i'm doing. wish me luck.

kitchamajig

i don't usually wax poetic about things like kitchen utensils, but i am so happy with this find that i feel the need to document my delight. i bought this at a local thrift store last summer. i'd never seen anything like it. i was intrigued with the fact that it was made in hong kong. the asking price was a dollar and i gladly paid it. i brought it home, cleaned it up, plunked it into the utensil crock next to the stove, and promptly forgot about it - until thanksgiving. in the rush of meal prep, as the pile of spatulas and slotted spoons built up in the sink, i grabbed for the ---  what was it, anyway?

long after it had drained the potatoes for mashing, scraped the turkey bits from the bottom of the pan for gravy, and whipped the squash into a puree, i googled it and found it was often referred to as a kitchamajig. knowing its quirky name made me even more enamored of it! it's now my go-to utensil - it beats, it drains, it mixes, it strains. i still get giddy using it.

winters like this one, it doesn't take much to make me happy!

hawk

earlier this month, there was a hawk hanging around the fringes of the woods. at first, i was excited and thought he was just passing through. but he stayed. sometimes i could see him but always, always, i could hear him. all day long. i thought he would drive me crazy with his constant shrill sounds. and then one day, it was too quiet, too still, and he was gone. and i actually missed him, worried about him a little bit. he probably just moved on to someone who appreciated him as much as i should have.

all hallow's eve

i have little patience with halloween, mainly because adults have taken over what used to be a pretty good children's holiday. in the drug store today buying last minute treats, i saw a witch, a pirate, and a devil, all over thirty. that said, i am dressed for the day in the traditional orange and black and am sporting my halloween socks, the ones that say 'this IS my costume!', mostly because i'll be around children. and i have to say, some halloween decorations, like the one pictured on the mantle, are kind of fun in a bizarre sort of way.

no birds, no mice

this winter, in an effort to keep down the mouse population inside this old house, i have not been feeding the birds from the lilac tree outside. rodent-wise, my plan is working (i think). but i sure do miss seeing winter birds right outside my door. after years of being entertained by nuthatches, woodpeckers, and blue jays, i have seen nary a chickadee, all winter long.

the fidget bowl

this tiny bowl has been in the center of my dining table for months now and seems to be earning a permanent place there. for lack of a better term, it's being called the fidget bowl.

in early summer, i put the bowl out and filled it with an assortment of shells, smooth stones, and sea glass collected on beaches over the years. in the weeks before our ocean get-away, the little girl and i sifted through the contents, remembering vacations past and planning for the upcoming one.  when we came back, we added this year's bounty to the collection. then fall came and the summer trinkets were packed away. the bowl was quickly refilled with acorns, pinecones, seed pods, indian corn kernels, and tiny stiff apsen leaves. through autumn, folks sat at the table fidgeting, sorting and stirring with fingers while talking of apple recipes and halloween costumes and preparations for winter. and now in december, the bowl holds the sights and sounds and smells of christmas. we rolled the sweet gum pods as we planned christmas lists and rubbed the cinnamon stick as we composed holiday messages to friends. we jingled bells absentmindedly, waiting for the kitchen timer to signal cookies were finished baking.

as it gets closer to the time of putting christmas away, i wonder what to place in the bowl for the winter months. i think people might miss it if it were empty and i'm pretty sure i've come to rely on it if only a little. even now, i crush the pine needles with my thumbnail to release a hint of their woodsy fragrance as i search for the right word or the correct phrase. as i write, i just fidget.

early saturday

up very early this morning, second cup of coffee in hand, quiet christmas playlist streaming to the kitchen speakers. such a peaceful, magical time of day, so full of promise and intention. i so wish i were a morning person.

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.

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!

inside-out

the view out the window this showery april morning. this rain is much needed, yet inconvenient. it will force me to find ways to stay content inside, which is unplanned - but not difficult to do.

outside-in

messing about outside, while i can, in anticipation of several days of much needed rain. here's tiny bugleweed, inside in a small pot on the kitchen windowsill. this is taken from outside, through the window. i just wanted to see if i could get the shot, that's all.

the first of april

rabbit-rabbit

(rabbit-rabbit!)

happy april first. 

the beauty of a telephoto lens

finally, i got a new compact flash memory card for my "good" camera. in anticipation of an important photo shoot tonight, i took some test shots late last night, just to make sure the new card worked. and here's what i photographed. yuck!

i know the place needs cleaning, but i swear i never noticed this mess. but how could i not notice! so i just got up and went to look - and, even knowing where it is, i still can't see it! the camera can, but not these old eyes. spring cleaning this year should prove very interesting!

sounds at dawn

morning sounds, soothing, quiet. 

wood pops and shifts in the stove

far-off crows call to one other

tap tap on the keyboard

and faint ringing in my ears

a muffled thud in the far room, perhaps a mouse 

refrigerator hums awake

an icicle releases from eaves

teakettle whispers, hisses, rumbles

a jay squawks for seed

and the plow guy roars up the driveway

shrove tuesday

pancakes for shrove tuesday dinner. overindulgence, i suppose, 

but i was neither in the mood nor in the area for mardi gras.

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...

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!

merry christmas to all!

and to all a good night!

i hope your christmases have all been magical!