luna moth

a good year for moths, perhaps. here's one of the luna variety, spotted clear across the yard hanging onto a stub of a broken branch. of course, there's nothing around with which to relate its gigantic size. but to have held a dime next to it to show that relativity seemed somehow wrong in such a natural setting.

summer solstice

as we slept, the earth momentarily stood still, hanging to the farthest edge of its orbit around the sun before undertaking its slow journey back to the opposite side.

so summer came. now, where is it?

little lupine

in the garden, a trio of tiny pink lupines, so dwarfed by their parent that i had a difficult time getting a decent shot and finally gave up. you'll just have to take my word for it that this big lupine is pretty tall.

blink

in no place is the fleeting passage of time more evident than in watching the baby girl grow and change. another birthday has taken place, with balloons and presents and a lemon cake, this year eaten with a fork instead of fingers. so in honor of her second birthday, the baby girl's title (and tag) will be changing to "the little girl" - because suddenly, magically, in only the blink of an eye, she is.

waxwings

for weeks i have watched new holly berries growing and maturing alongside last year's old red ones. the bright color, so cheery at christmas time, looked odd and out of place in the fresh green of spring and i secretly hoped they would quickly shrivel and drop. but a small flock of cedar waxwings has come along every morning and is slowly consuming them all, leaving the green berries to once again grace the winter landscape. i'm always amazed at how nature takes care of itself.

wall art

just making sure that, like the package promises, washable crayon really is. and it's a good thing it is!

after midnight

up much too late tonight, doing some design work, having a glass of wine and winding down from a very busy and hectic week. finally, weather is warm enough to keep the door open even this late into the night - and look who just appeared with a bang and a bump and a flurry of gigantic wings.

don't try this at home

what happens when you forget and you wash a 100% cotton, homespun, dry-clean-only shower curtain. i suppose it would be good for high water...

iris

i am not a fan of irises unless they are the type with the gigantic flower heads that look substantial enough to actually be a flower. these smaller ones are what i have - and, although the colors here are drab and the flower is less than spectacular - this particular iris is my favorite. i like them because they came with the house, growing wild amongst the sedum and maple seedlings and hostas of an aged garden. transplanted closer to the house, i can now see them when they bloom - in all their nondescript beauty.

contrast in color

a lone red maple seed jolts the cool green of the grassy play yard on a brilliant spring afternoon.

the success of jed

i was standing four deep in the checkout line of a supermarket in a nearby town, holding my basket of 15-items-or-less and reading the covers of magazines. it was hard not to notice our cashier, a pleasant young man, as he smiled and greeted each customer, one by name even, making small talk about their purchases as he rang them through: how old is your baby? what kind of cat do you have? i love the way this smells, don't you? in each instance, he made eye contact, smiled, and drew the customer out with questions so they were fully engaged in conversation by the time he bagged their groceries. only as i came closer did i see his name tag and make the connection - this was jed, a first grader in my class so long ago. jed, a sullen and quirky child, a difficult student, the kind i worried about as i time after time tried and failed to reach him. precisely the sort of student a teacher might think would never find success in life. never get good grades. never go to college. never move away. yet here he was, in the fifth year of a job he loved and was good at, he told me. he shared an apartment with a friend. he had nieces and nephews and cousins. he had a cat. and he was happy. he was a careful and conscientious worker and his pleasant demeanor made people's days richer. i walked away smiling, knowing that, in his own way, jed certainly had found success.

surprise!

a rouge clump of forget-me-nots, seeded from goodness-knows-where to an obscure graveled spot close to the granite foundation. if i hadn't gone to that side of the house, i never would have even known they were there.

yellow jacket

today i wore yellow. normally i wear black, tan, sometimes brown, with a little red thrown in from time to time for novelty's sake. but today i felt compelled to wear yellow. it was our third day of rain and turn-on-the-heat cold. it was the end of a short but very long and trying week at work. it was the kind of day you long to stay home and do quiet things like read. so today i wore yellow, to brighten at least my own day. coincidentally, i was also dressed to babysit tonight. yellow, perhaps because of its brilliance, is first color the baby girl has learned.

kindle envy

tonight i was online investigating audiobooks for children when, at the amazon site, i again read about kindles. i have looked at these and wondered about them - how it would feel in the hand, what a page would look like, how cool it would it be to try one of these, should i consider buying one? i had been rolling these kindle notions around in my head when, wonder of wonders, i got an email from a contact saying she had just purchased one! not unlike the free samples i try at her house, now i'll be able to try out her kindle. see? life is indeed serendipitous.

a soggy mess

rain, rain, and more rain in the forecast and it will surely bring an abrupt end to lilac season. still looking for the ultimate lilac shot, i venture out in drizzle to try for a photo. these soggy lilacs are nothing but that - all wet. luckily for me they still smell heavenly. too bad i can't photograph a fragrance!

nature's sculpture

a pine at the edge of the yard of a friend.
isn't it fascinating that something so dead can look so artistic and majestic?

apple blossom time

from a tiny apple tree i pass by quite often, this morning awash with the vibrant pink of these beautiful blossoms.

read street

this is the house i lived in as a very small child. a duplex, and we lived on the left. my family was there only a few years, moving on when i was about six. so how is it that i have such strong memories that go back to this locale and time in my life? i remember sitting on the concrete steps and waiting for the ice cream man to come in his pick up truck, the one with the little house on the back. walking to the corner store to get cigarettes, bread, and milk. watching from the window as a town bus detoured down our street when a hurricane laid a tree across the main road. dirigibles floating above the marsh beyond the dead end. hearing morning reveille and evening taps from the military fort nearby. dashing down the street before breakfast to wake up my friends. walking atop concrete walls and feeling so brave to be up so high. i am feeling older today, rightly so because i am. and i just cannot grasp how so many years have passed from a long ago time that i recall so very well.

tomato man

this is the third such promotional gimmick i've seen in as many weeks. first a dancing bear, then a sandwich complete with lettuce edges, and today - this grinning tomato. seeing them has made me wonder what the people inside the costumes must be thinking as they stand there hour after hour waving at passing cars. their body language is saying "come on in and try our ice cream/sub sandwiches/pizza!" but in their minds are they thinking about going home and doing laundry? or remembering a song they heard this morning on the radio? or wishing they could have a coke or a beer? or are they muttering inside their costume heads, cursing those drivers who do not return the wave, who pass by with nary a glance in their direction? which leads to yet another question: how can they see who reacts and who doesn't? i mean, where are their eyes?

violet blues

violets peppering the front yard, a sign that it's time for the first mowing. as the mower starts i gather as many flowers as i can, but i soon give up. these are the tiny variety, the sort that, when cut, don't last very long in water anyway. i sit on the step and watch as they are cut down, the heady smell of newly mown grass filling the air. in a few moment's time, this year's violets, along with the grass clippings, have become the start of next year's compost.

3 chilly saints

in these parts, folks don't usually plant until after the full flower moon in may, when the likelihood of frost is past. but this year the full moon has come early in the month, yesterday, and i have been fighting the urge to plant this weekend. i'm anxious to get in my potted herbs and windowboxes, but i'll wait. another may warning (courtesy of the olde farmer's almanac) is the days of the three chilly saints:

Mamertus, Pancras, and Gervais were three early Christian saints. Because their feast days, on May 11, 12, and 13, respectively, are traditionally cold, they have come to be known as the Three Chilly Saints. An old French saying goes: "St. Mamertus, St. Pancras, and St. Gervais do not pass without a frost."

...and frost i don't need. even though nighttime temperatures are forecasted to be in the thirties and forties, it couldn't hurt to wait until next weekend to plant. right?

the power of music

two diverse music events today each memorable in its own right. first, all the songs and dancing with the baby girl paid off when, at her first live concert, she spent the afternoon intently studying the musicians and bouncing and dancing with each song. for two hours, she was enthralled and entertained - and her grammie was blessed. then later in the day at church, as the congregation sang the alleluia, i heard my father's voice, clear and strong. his singing stopped me cold; it was as if he were alive and standing behind me. i fought the impulse to turn and look and just stood, listening, until the psalm ended. i never found the source, and did not hear his voice again with the rest of the hymns. but for just a few moments during mass, my father's daughter was blessed.

trillium at the stone wall

down the road there's a spot where trillium grow profusely between the road and a neighboring house, bloominng at the base of trees and stone walls, sprouting in crevices in the rocks, popping up randomly in the grass. and if that weren't enough, white bloodroot is sprinkled into the mix. it's hard to pass by the place this time of year without stopping to marvel at the beauty of spring in all her quiet splendor.

montage o' fern

into the woods once more today, not so much for the ferns fotos but for content for this technological toy i have been meaning to try. interesting effect, taking all those photos and making it into one - and this is the first time i have ever uploaded a blog photo in "large" size as opposed to small (usually) and medium (from time to time). tech toy aside, i was pretty happy with the fern fotos, taken with the cheesy macro while holding the camera in front of the subject and blindly shooting - with no idea whether things were focused or even framed well.

into the woods

a short walk this morning looking for signs of spring growth. no flowers out there yet, but ferns have emerged, tall and unfurling, their tiny leaves exact miniatures of the full grown fronds they will be in a few weeks time.

pileated woodpecker

through the window, i spotted him as he flew across the backyard like a shot, a black bullet. as i changed camera lenses, i heard his raucous call from up back. in pjs and flip-flops i skulked through the backyard, and found him there, on the ground, drilling on an old tree stump. he was pretty far away - but just look how his red head stands out in the brush!

wee beastie

if spring is here, if windows are open, even if screens are in, can inside insects be far behind? this beautiful specimen is the first of the season. i have no idea what it is. all i know is it doesn't belong in the bedroom. and, by the way, it's really not as big as it may look!

confession

aside from the visiting, one of the best things about staying with family and friends is the chance to try out new products. i won't open cabinets or anything - never would i snoop. but if the bottles and tubes are there, in plain view, i confess that i usually give in to the temptation to try a tiny sample. a dab of hair gel, a dash of toothpaste, a spritz of body spray, a dollop of hand lotion. like free samples at a department store, it's a chance to try something new without being disappointed after buying the giant economy size. so thanks to you, my hosts, for aiding and abetting me in my secret indulgence. now that you know, i hope you'll still invite me back.

drizzle

love the way water collects in droplets on plants in the spring and have always wished i could capture its beauty. but to do it well, i think i need a way better macro lens than the cheesy one i have now.

spring cleaning

from the top shelf of the medicine cabinet, a veritable plethora of toothbrushes. is it possible, do you suppose, to have too many spares? the irony here is this: i use an electric toothbrush.

first green

one fine sunny morning, you're driving to work and you notice that lawns and fields are beginning to show signs of life. tinges of green brighten the drab browns and greys of post-winter snow melt. grassy blades stand straight and tall through last year's soggy tangles. finally you know for certain - this is indeed spring.

balloon 09

yes, the easter balloon was delivered last night, this time in a trash bag tied to the back of my car with not carrots, but kale weighing it down. a lovely gesture that touches me still. thanks, easter bunny!!

risen

spring comes slowly to northern new england, but eventually, it gets here.
happy easter!

remembrance

perhaps because it's holy week, perhaps because baseball season has just opened, perhaps because these both coincide with the one year anniversary of her death, i am missing my friend pat. she carved this diminutive duck, one of the first things i see when i wake in the morning. and each day, i think of her.

beach plum jelly

last night at a party, i met a friend of a friend, an interesting woman who nurses sick infants, weaves on an antique loom, and grows beach plums in the middle of the state. beach plums a hundred miles from the ocean. i told her about my ongoing quest to replicate the beach plum jelly i had on the cape in the early 80s. about the jars and jars of disappointing jelly i had purchased over the years. the more she and i talked about beach plum jelly, the more my eyes glazed at the thought of its unattainable ruby-jeweled goodness. when our conversation ended, she excused herself, only to return to my side soon after bearing a squat jar of beach plum jelly, homemade, from a recipe that wins awards on nantucket. how it materialized so quickly i do not know. how much i plan to savor it - that i know. many thanks to my friend's friend lorraine, who, in addition to all her other talents, must be a bit of a beach plum fairy.

gone!

driving down the highway just a few miles south of here, i realize it for the first time: there's no snow! it's gone!
aging snow slips away
baring matted leaves of gray.
finally, new buds arrive
to bring us hope - the earth's ALIVE!
(by my creative friend, mary!)

uh-oh!

i could be wrong, but i'm pretty sure i just ate the fruit sticker on this apple. it's been a looooong day.

my own march madness

at a break in the npr programming this morning, the announcer mentioned the date: march 28th. it caught me by surprise to hear that march is that close to being over. but it's fine by me. of all the months of the year, march is my least favorite. truth be told, i just don't like it. it's long. it's bleak. it's messy with mud. signs of spring appear in march but at a sluggish pace that makes me even more anxious for the month to end and april to begin. save st. patrick's day, which is not a big deal around here, there is little cause for celebration. march teases - extended daylight but wind chill temperatures, spring training but no major league games, pussy willows in snow still too deep to get through. making it to the end of march always feels like a major accomplishment. yet with a bittersweet twist, the days spent passing through it seem to fly by faster as each year cycles.

lollipops

while waiting for the bank teller to complete my transactions, i paw through the lollipop cup and read the dum-dum flavors: root beer, bubblegum, cotton candy, butterscotch. every flavor you could think of. it makes me wonder what the "mystery flavor" must be.

springing

i love this robin williams quote!
"spring is nature's way of saying 'let's party!'"

afternoon sunlight

spring sunlight streaming through the windows later and later each afternoon is making it increasingly difficult to stay inside and work. and it makes this conch by the window beautifully translucent, don't you think?

hark!

what light through yonder window breaks?
it is my solar light,
protruding through the receding snow in the sitting spot!

connemara

just in time for st patrick's day, my irish perfume arrives in the mail. i'm pretty fussy about fragrance and, when i wear perfume, this is the only one i'll wear. i discovered it when i was in ireland about ten years ago and have been ordering it online ever since. this bottle will last me about eighteen months and is one of those small luxuries that i easily convinced myself i deserve. but this time the purchase feels particularly frivolous and indulgent given the fact that so many people in this country are in such financial straits right now.

may the road rise up to meet you - and them, too.

middlemarch

a second day of playtime with the baby girl - walks and blocks and shadow play, goldfish in cups, and naps on quilts. even a lovely bowl of soup with the girl, who has just this weekend moved her family back closer to home. at the end of the day, i notice that the ides of march were again nothing to beware of this year.

one more (real) oldie

walkin my baby back home
on a fine late winter afternoon.

old lps

browsing in a store over the weekend, i came upon this display. the sign says "picture frames" and i'm sure some someone would look lovely (albeit a little weird) in the middle. but really, i want to know what songs these frames play. rock around the clock, in the still of the nite, sh-boom... if i'd had the money to blow, i'd have bought one to put on the old turntable to find out! then would i have used it for a frame? that'll be the day.

springing ahead late

all clocks turned ahead late last night except for this one - and, of course, it's the one i first see in the morning. changing it in daylight made me wonder - who selected the 2am time to change and why? because if we "spring ahead" during the daytime instead of at night, we could gracefully excuse ourselves from chores or situations we don't want to be in:

"no, i don't think i do have time to finish that report because, look - i just had to 'spring ahead'. sorry!!"
"oops, i can't finish cleaning the house because i just turned the clocks to eastern daylight time and now it's time to leave for the movies! too bad!"
"wow! would you look at the time now that i've turned my watch ahead? gotta go!"

makes sense to me!

springing up & springing ahead

probably you can't even notice this, but i spotted it and was encouraged by its appearance. there, just outside the coffee shop window, green sprouting up from the earth! and on the turn-your-clocks-ahead day.

square root day

see? the number of day of the month (3) and the number of the month (3) are the square root of the last two digits of the year (09). so today was square root day! there's more here if you want to find out all about it. i was really going to let the day pass, not do a post on it. but the next square root day will be 4-4-2016. who knows if i'll even still be blogging by then. 

but then, pi day is fast approaching...

early bird, no worm

and here he is, back again for the third day in a row. note the snowstorm, in which he is sitting, and the string of cranberries, which he is artfully ignoring. he eats no seed, no suet. he just perches, with feathers ruffled against the cold wind, and then after a bit, he flies. march is once again beginning lion-like. for this little robin's sake, i hope it ends like the lamb it's supposed to.