in perspective

just when i am at my lowest point of the week, just when i am missing my mother so much it fairly hurts, just when i think this is what grief will be for a long time, i get a lovely message of condolence from an old student. now grown, he graciously tells me he knows how i am feeling since he and his wife have recently lost a daughter. a child, in the midst of her life. amazing how another's tragedy, far, far worse than any i can comprehend, can jar one back into some semblance of what is normal and accepted. incredible how brave some people must be.

have a nice day

with the events of this past week, i have become keenly aware of the frequent use of this phrase or one similar - have a good day, have a nice night, have a good weekend... i was counting the continual utterances, anticipating them even, when i finally gave up early on at number thirteen: have a good afternoon from the clerk at the florist's. i want to nose right up to those greeters and quietly reply that my mother has just passed away and to have a good day seems an impossible request just now, thank you very much. maybe private grief is not such a good thing. perhaps those folks with the black armbands were onto something.

afterward

the services are over, the family has dispersed, and now comes the business of returning to life-as-usual, even if things can never be the same again.

deep peace

deep peace of the running wave to you
deep peace of the flowing air to you
deep peace of the quiet earth to you
deep peace of the shining stars to you
deep peace of the gentle night to you
moon and stars pour their healing light on you
deep peace of Christ, the light of the world to you
deep peace of Christ to you

for my family, for my mom

labor day

when i think back on this summer, the night of this board game will be the memory that i'll hold most dear. i was together with people i love. we laughed and had fun. it was a bittersweet time and i will always be glad of having it.

good friday

the sun shines, the air is cool, the sky a brilliant blue. work is simple, strangers are kind, and the glass is clearly half full.

how can today be so painfully perfect when somewhere there are hearts dying?

me knee

always, i am astonished by medical technology. then, maybe it just doesn't take much to impress me. here's my knee, in what appears to be not-too-bad shape. how cool is it that doctors can see inside our bodies? that i can see inside me? and now you can too?

"spread your wings and..." nah.

on my way to school this weekend, i saw this amazing bird (a cormorant, maybe?) sitting in a tree over a pond with wings fully extended. he stayed like that for a long, long time. perhaps he was drying his wings or showing off for the other birds. i have been trying for naught to come up with a catchy caption for this picture for my students, something inspirational that deals with the new school year. i think i'll just ask them to caption it. maybe they will be more creative tomorrow than i have been tonight.

back to work

how unfair is it that school begins
on such a gloriously beautiful summer morning?

passages

this is my computer, sitting on the tiny pine desk next to the tiny bobbin lamp by the window over looking the garden and the woods beyond. this is where i do most of my reading, writing, learning, collaborating, experimenting, dreaming, and general messing about with new tech ideas and web tools. it's where i have spent most mornings this summer, including today, with cups of coffee or tea and sometimes music from itunes or pandora or birdsong outside. this is also where, late this morning, i watched my computer screen grow faint vertical lines that slowly swelled to thick dark ones, as my word document behind them faded more and more until it was eventually just - poof! gone. friends in the know tell me this is serious. sigh. how serendipitous is it that my computer would pick today to die, the last day of summer vacation, the last time i had to enjoy the type of morning i have just loved?

sudden rain

a prolonged shower with driving rain soaked everything in the yard and produced shallow puddles in the walk and grass. but they were just big enough for a little girl to splash around in, sit in, and get good and wet in!

feather of crow

a crow feather found this morning, standing black and straight in the grass under the pines. i'll add it to the others in the grapevine wreath by the side door. another serendipitous bird encounter tonight: as i sit here composing this post in the dark at my open window, i am serenaded by two owls up in the woods, hooting and calling to each other in the black of night.

glorious?

i love the brilliant blue of this morning glory, even though the center is not terribly interesting, especially compared to that zinnia from a few days ago. this photo's just a tad too fussy for me, i think.

wee beastie II

this fascinating specimen was found on my way out the door, crawling purposefully along the edge of a violet leaf. the magnified gaze of the new macro lens displays not only the head section of this spiky caterpillar, but also what looks to be a tiny face. can you see it?

blueberry morning

a serene, sunny saturday morning, the perfect day for blueberry pancakes and orange juice at the picnic table. how can i bottle this calm, this peace, and save it for the weeks and months ahead?

mid august

the farther into august, the closer to end of vacation, the nearer to school time, the more glorious become the days. like today. here, scarlet runner beans finally advance up the pole, at long last begin to bloom.

bringing the corn

the perfect babysitting day with the little girl punctuated with music, heavy equipment, frogs and toads, table settings, and the shucking of the corn for dinner. she exhibits a mean arm as she stands at the edge of the yard pulling husks from ears and flinging them into the compost pile, one handful at a time.

pink zinnia

look at all that goes on in the often unnoticed center of a zinnia! having this macro lens for my camera makes me wonder if i need to have my eyesight checked again.

mismatched

trying to camouflage the new grape arbor up on the hill by painting it to match the trunks of the trees beyond. as evidenced here, i am failing miserably. oddly, the arbor looks grey in this photo. in real life, however, it's a lovely muted shade of blue. not even close...

too much, too soon

the local big box store has removed all its annuals and vegetables and, in their place, put out chrysanthemums. at the beginning of august, for heavens sake. what on earth are they thinking, particularly now that summer is finally here? i guess it could be worse. they could have put out pumpkins, too.

pinus bogus

a cell tower, new england style. i still laugh when i see these, even though they are getting more and more realistic-looking. especially when glimpsed flying down the highway at 75 mph.

afternoon stars

the full moon i wanted to blog tonight was not only obstructed by clouds, it was interrupted by a phone call! but no mind - here's a shot from yesterday's trip. new york rises on the opposite shore as lake champlain sparkles like a million stars in the late afternoon sun.

a little tripp, a little culture, a little circus

my head still reels thinking about all the beautiful and unique antiques and collectibles i saw on a visit to a wonderful museum with a good friend. the most amazing was this miniature three-ring circus, 35,000 tiny little performers and animals and circus trappings and audience members. it was carved by the artist over a forty year period, using only a penknife and a treadle jigsaw - and he worked on it only during in his spare time. would that i had spare time like that.

finally summer

it's hard to believe it's august when i am in such a june state of mind. today was really my first feels-like-summer day: windows wide, shorts and a tee, flowers in vases, greens and balsamic vinegar for lunch, a nap in the sitting spot. these are the days that sustain me throughout the long new england winter. sure hope there's time enough to stockpile more as summer begins to wane.

beach grass

this is the last of the official vacation blog photographs, taken a few days ago from the edge of a rocky spot near the dock, looking though the grass and across the reach. two vacations in two weeks was so wonderful that i really don't want july to end. and so, following the lead of a wise friend, i have chosen not to turn the calendar to august. at least not yet.

joker

as much as i enjoy word games and puzzles, i am not a fan of board games and cards. but this afternoon for hours i played this new game with two old friends and a new acquaintance - a lovely but rugged 88 year old woman who maintains her own home and property, makes great cookies, and was a patient and understanding teacher to this student who, in spite of the many moments of admitted fun, was quite distracted and very far away.

maine morning

the view out the window from the quilt covered bed in the charming white bedroom on a beautifully clear morning in maine.

in the fog

while dining with friends, i was distracted by the appearance of this heron in the distance, fishing for his own dinner in the fog off the rocky coast.

a morning farewell

russian sage flowers in the back of the beach house, with the vast marsh beyond reflected in the water droplets. the end to a lovely family vacation by the ocean. good times, good memories.

stormy seas

no need for suntan lotion on a day like today. the rain is driving, the wind is whipping, the ocean is wild. later if the rain stops, perhaps a walk on the beach to see what the storm blew in.

castles in the ocean air

the arrival of the little girl to the vacation spot unfortunately did not bring the sun. but it was still a perfect time to build a sandcastle (or a birthday cake!) in the summer's biggest sandbox.

displacement

years ago i went to ireland. the rugged western shore was strewn with rocks and it was difficult to pick a favorite as i always do on vacation. finally i selected an elongated rock, far bigger than i would normally choose, but as green as the irish countryside. a perfect memento of the emerald isle.

a week later at home, when i drew the prized rock from my bag, the vibrant color was gone, in its place an ordinary muted grey. in vain, i ran it under the tap, hoping water would restore the green color. but to be as it had been, the rock needed something that was not in the new england environs, some natural element that was unique to the air over ireland or the waters of the north atlantic. like so many things in nature, it needed to be enveloped in its native surroundings to be what it was truly meant to be.

the beach in rain

a dreary day at the beach, grey and rainy. a good day to visit, to read, to nap, and to practice with the new lens. it took many shots before i was even a bit satisfied with this one. can you see the beach?

dawn

morning has broken, like the first morning
blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
praise for the singing, praise for the morning
praise for the springing fresh from the word

mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
born of the one light, eden saw play
praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day.

-cat stevens

a day at the beach

day one: morning coffee at the window, reading on the deck, and snoozing in the sun. this afternoon, sandcastles to photograph on the beach, inspiration for an adventure with the little girl later on in the week.

a whole new perspective

what is this flower? a mammoth sunflower? a daisy? nay, it's chamomile, the most diminutive little flower ever, no bigger in diameter than the nail on my pinkie. here's another shot of it in a wee little windowsill vase. this tiny flower appears ginormous and detailed because i took the shot with my brand new new macro lens! if you click on the photo to make it bigger, which i hope you always do anyway, you will see the intricate sunflower-like pattern in the center of the flower. you may also notice two inchworms dancing on the flower's head. amazing!

i'm going to need a lot of practice and experience - but oh, the things you and i are going to see through this lens...!

the conundrum of stuff

the older i get, the more stuff i seem to have accumulated. it feels imperative, as i age, that i weed through my stuff and either organize it or throw it out, if only to save a loved one from dealing with my stuff after i am eventually gone. but the older i get, the more i like my stuff, with the memories they provide, the reminders of love and friendship, the mementos of happy times. so, do i need all this stuff? heck no. do i want all this stuff? i'm not sure. all i really know is this: it's not so easy to part with some of a lot of this stuff.

july morning

into the garden early with coffee and the camera...

hosta la vista

alas, someone somewhere has eaten all the large glossy leaves from this huge hosta plant in the garden down by the sitting spot. i do hope its appetite is satisfied and it doesn't go after the others. one of the down sides of rural living.

good camera

back in business with a new memory card for the camera. even though i still had the small cheesy camera that i carry all the time, i was feeling a bit inept and lost without the "good" camera. so i'm relieved to know the card is all formatted correctly and the camera is once again working as it should. from tonight's trial run of around-the-house shots, here's my favorite "vase", an old redware spice jar that once held "cloves & nutmegs".

concert on the common

a free concert on a village green on the fourth of july weekend. folk music with a celtic, french-canadian feel played on guitar, banjo, ukelele, and bodhrán. byob (bring your own blanket) and free popcorn at the back of the crowd. children dancing in the grass as the musicians sing and play. the american flag flying high above the gazebo in a cloudless blue sky as the crowd sings along at the chorus. a summer evening doesn't get more small town new england - or more wonderful - than that!

4th of july

the best fireworks i saw all weekend!

about time

just an ordinary field down the street. but after weeks and weeks of clouds and rain, it's such a treat to be able to see the moon at twilight.

memory card

in the early hours of yesterday morning, after i took the picture of the rabbit, below, the memory card for my good camera, the digital slr, sputtered and, refusing to give up its images, died. the card has lived a long and happy life, and served well, documenting all manner of important and not-so-important events: the girl's wedding, the little girl's birth, numerous vacations to the ocean, family at christmas, snow days, birthdays, children, parades, stars and insects and just about every flower here in the garden. in addition, it's preserved sights and scenes that captivate me and recorded images that i've glimpsed and want to hold in time. it's been a steadfast extension of my mind's eye. that must be why it's called a memory card.

first of the month

a child once shared with me that it was good luck to say "rabbit, rabbit" before anything else upon awakening on the first day of a new month. i usually don't remember to do it and don't even think about it until much later in the day. but today i did remember and now feel oddly satisfied with the fact that i said it! maybe i should go buy a lottery ticket!

watering can

the old galvanized type of watering can, with the sprinkler head, the kind i have wanted for years, restored and given to me this birthday by a dear friend. strange that i finally have the garden tool i so wished for but have not had much reason to use, given all the rain we've had this spring. i sure hope i get to use it this summer.

herbs

on the kitchen windowsill, chamomile and curly mint, with orange mint and peppermint just beyond in the window box outside. finally the herbs are all planted, a good six weeks later than usual. to encourage growth, the leggy tops of the dill were cut back, then the cuttings were used to make dill butter. it will be wonderful this summer on potatoes and corn.

alpha baby

babysitting with the little girl often includes a brief stint at the computer, learning to touch the keys gently and one at a time, and being rewarded with a brilliant shape or corresponding letter or number on the screen. the program's voice identifies the symbol shown and the little girl parrots the responses and counts the number of letters she sees. she sustains for longer than i expect she should, given her age, and i sometimes wonder about that. but then she calls out "two yellow moons!" - and she's right - and i figure it probably can't hurt.

it's summertime?

forecasters have promised today the sun will shine and temperatures will soar into the 80s. if they are correct (do i sound skeptical?), it may be the first day this month that will feel at all like summer. they say we have had five times as much rain this june as we normally have. it's no wonder the morning glories are less than glorious and the peonies heads are all droopy and sad.

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.