as good as new

for reasons i won't go into, i need a large amount of shiny pennies. now, pennies i have - and lots of them. but they are old and worn and grimy with age. the bank could not supply me with the shiny new coins i need. in desperation, i set about to clean my old penny collection. lemon juice and salt in a jar with the pennies, shaken a few times, and rinsed. and voilà! the smell emanating from the jar upon opening is no longer lemony and actually smells a lot like a bad egg. but look how shiny my pennies are now!

paradox

there are morning people and there are night people and i am the latter. i love the quiet of night, the stars, the finality and feeling of accomplishment that comes at the end of the day. but when i sleepily look up to sights like this one, first light filtering through leaves and magically illuminating spots far into the forest, i am in awe. and it makes me wish yet again that i could be a morning person.

first september

red leaves
red tomatoes
red holly
now, red crabapples.
september's here.

anniversary

today is the anniversary of my parents' wedding sixty-three years ago. i miss them both and always will. this is my mother's wedding ring, which i wear in her memory.

going home again

over the weekend, after a visit with relatives, i took a side trip through the small town where i grew up. it's still hard to believe i have no connections left to a place that leaves me with such wonderful memories.

holly

sitting in the window with a second cup of coffee, working here one last summer morning, i look out to see the holly berries, once glossy green in the june sun, now tinged with orange on their way to winter red. summer's fading. autumn looms.

too much of a good thing

many years, there are no tomatoes at all. sometimes, there have been small disappointing green ones to pick just before the first frost of september. in good years, there have been a few small red ones towards the end of august that get shared with critters and hornworms. but this year, there are tomatoes! the garden shimmers red with them as i pluck the heavy fruits from the plants. never have i canned, only served tomatoes sliced thick with basil, oil, and mozzarella or cut up in a garden salad. but this year, there's no keeping up with the crop! gazpacho, anyone?

back to school

it's the last day of summer vacation. even the sky weeps. but secretly, i am filled with a sense of excitement and anticipation at the thought of a new year. this has happened to me every year since i was in first grade. wouldn't you think it would be old hat by now?

sunflower!

after several years of fruitlessly planting the tiny seeds, finally i have a sunflower - and another one coming! i'm looking forward to finches feeding on the seed heads in a few weeks time. the little girl has measured the plant against her own height all summer long. she says it's called a sunflower because it's bigger than the sun!

à bientôt

a lovely extended weekend with friends comes to an end all too soon. it's been a quiet time of visiting, reminiscing, resting and regrouping. the end of summer stillness that my mind and soul needed. i am so thankful for this time, this place and especially, for these people.

garden tour

this place is so far north it has a very short growing season. yet some folks here have the most beautiful flowers and the most amazing vegetables. a visit to the garden at helen's yielded beans, cabbage, carrots, and a pepper. and more tiny seeds from spent poppy pods to try growing again next season.

ocean birds

bird watching on the coast can be so calming. here gulls squawk and soar and drift on the air singly or in large flocks. they stand at attention on the rocky shore, surveying their ocean domain as they wait for fishing boats to pass. last night at sunset, a never ending mass of hundreds of gulls streamed toward the west and the setting sun. and sometimes, if i'm lucky, i see other birds here, like herons or terns or this cormorant, pictured below with his gull friends.

maine moon

my final summertime hurrah, visiting a friend who lives on the coast in a northernmost part of new england. this is the view from her porch on this warm august night, with the crescent moon and venus both setting in the evening sky over the reach.

treasured

this old green cardboard strip glued with dried leaves is a bookmark the girl made for me when she was very, very small. i treasure this creation and have always used it to mark my place in whatever fictional work i'm reading.

and two weeks ago, i lost the book i've been reading - along with the bookmark. i looked everywhere for the book, retracing my steps, checking in stores and businesses, pulling up cushions and reaching under seats. tonight in desperation, i came close to sending a mass message out to all my friends to watch for it, please. but just now, just as i was readying for bed (and another book-less night) i thought where it might possibly be - and happily, there it was!

it seems a tad silly to be so elated to have found it! after all, the book is only worth $14.95 and i've already downloaded the audio version. but that bookmark - that's absolutely priceless!

famous last words

over the weekend, i saw this in a cemetery. when my time finally comes, i'd love to leave behind words like this. words that make even a stranger laugh out loud and smile days later, thinking that the deceased must have really been quite a gal.

weekend away

a lovely summer weekend spent with family at the beach just across the harbor from the city of boston. the lighthouse above is boston light, originally lit with candles in the 1700s when it was built and now powered by a windmill! below, the most unusual weathervane i saw while i was there. isn't she beautiful?

corn in the morn

on most august days, i drive by this cornfield on the way to the local farm stand to buy the day's produce. sometimes it's tomatoes or peaches or lettuce or blueberries, but always, it is corn. the season for corn is so brief here that we tend to indulge in it every day that we can. and then never again, not until the following year, in august when corn season returns once more.

not-so-quiet cricket

i have been quietly busy interacting with children's books these august days. it's solitary work and there's a certain rhythm to the task that is, at times, quite calming. so imagine how startled i was tonight when this book began to chirp at me! chirp! a tiny mechanism inside the back cover mimics the sound of the cricket depicted in the story. and i didn't even realize it was there! how delightful that books can engage small children with sound as well as story! the little girl is going to love this one!

first of august

oh no!

not yet!

it's only august first and there's still another whole month of summer!

caterpillar

this small creature is one of the reasons i let milkweed grow wild here. in a few week's time, this caterpillar will have undergone metamorphosis and emerged into his final stage of life - as a beautiful monarch butterfly.

yesterday he was here all day, but today he is gone, with no sign of a chrysalis anywhere. i guess he's gone someplace else to change.

here & gone

two years ago, i blogged about this, which means i've been attempting to grow these flowers for four summers now. a friend has amazing success growing beautiful giant pink poppies and she keeps me in a yearly supply of seed, which i (now) faithfully plant according to her directions - always to no avail. but apparently this year, i've had some success as i find these spent pods tucked in the garden behind some taller and fuller perennials. the bad news is this: i totally missed the flowers. even though they must have been awfully tiny and hidden behind other garden greenery, i bet, for a few fleeting days, they were really pretty.

summer days

What is so rare as a day in june? a day in july! perfect weather today for a long walk, for some work outside at the table, for a snooze under the maples and for a picnic dinner with the little girl, eating watermelon and listening to crickets. summer as it should be!

end results

when this arbor was built last summer, i agonized over the color choice for the paint. when it was finished, i was a bit disappointed to see how blue it was instead of the tree-trunk grey i had hoped it would be. but now that it's covered with lovely, lush vines, heavy with grapes, i see how silly that was. draped serenely in morning sunlight, it would still be beautiful even if it had been painted orange.

the pyrex effect

a few weeks ago, in the midst of a cleaning frenzy, i personally hauled to the dump my large assortment of twenty-year old plastic food storage containers and mismatched lids. the ones with the tomato stains and the melted edges and the carousel holder that always fell apart. it was all taking up too much space in a too-small cabinet and repeated attempts to organize it just did not work well. it was an ordeal to quickly find a container when i needed one and that fact was causing undue kitchen stress.

so i replaced the plastic collection with these glass storage bowls, some round, some oblong. they nest and stack pretty well. they clean up nicely and don't melt in the microwave. but mostly they are easy to get to. and they evoke such a sense of calm that comes from kitchen organization, it makes me wonder what would happen if i cleaned out the junk drawer.

the murder of crows

each morning this week i've tried to snap a photo of the raucous crows that have been waking me too early all summer long. screeching and shrill, they arrive at dawn to perch in trees around the yard. boldly, they swoop in and cover the lawn, squawking as they hi-step through the early morning dew. once this week, i awoke to rapid, rhythmic, incessant croaking. peering sleepily through the window i spied a young crow, jumping up and down in front of the blackberry bushes. with each screech, he hopped up and gobbled down a berry. needless to say, there are precious few left for us this year.

time was when crows were a harbinger of fall. a solemn, mournful sound that signaled the end of a summer. which was fine with me because i'm up early then anyway. but on cool july mornings, i love the indulgence of rolling over and closing my eyes for a few minutes more. not this year.

even though there are not yet any crisp fallen leaves with which to stuff the clothes, i'm thinking about making a scarecrow a little early this year.

eleventh hour

just as this day is coming to an end, just as i am thinking nothing photo- or blog-worthy happened today, the tiniest toad hops onto the screen right where i am sitting at the window. and so ends the day.

5:15 am

here is the sight that i opened my eyes to this morning. it's pretty difficult to go back to sleep after witnessing something this amazing.

through the eyes of a child

the little girl arrived at the beach yesterday and suddenly all that was familiar looks different. as we walk, she's like a hawk, spotting smooth white rocks and worn down pieces of beach glass and swooping down to pocket them. she calls the ocean by name, demanding that it come closer or retreat, and tries to hail gulls with a "hell-o! seagull!" she doesn't mind walking in the rain and thinks the resulting sunset is pink and beautiful. and the kite delights her, even though it doesn't fly very high or stay airborne for too long.

rocks & shells

i'm not sure why its happened but i'm disappointed with the way some of my photographs have come out this week, especially the close ones. above, the small round beach rock on the right was mesmerizing as it glittered with a sprinkle of tiny copper colored flecks. and below, the opalescence of the small fragment of shell was captivating, the way it undulated and changed colors in the morning sunlight.

but, sadly, you'll just have to take my word for it.

snail trail

how long must it take for a snail to make progress like this, i wonder as i walk. seeing the snail reminds me that i have a herculean task ahead of me this coming year. i'm thinking i should make this photo into a "slow and steady" type inspirational poster and hang it over my desk! i can learn from this determined snail!

more shore birds

to me, this trio looks like ducks. they were perched well out in the water, standing on a rock, i think. as i watched and photographed them, the waves grew higher and stronger and their watery roost soon disappeared, forcing them to float out onto the sea.

a fellow beach walker asked me to photograph these for her. she wished to paint them. i do have the photos now but she has yet to contact me. i believe that makes them fair game for the blog.

tern

spent time on the beach late this afternoon with the telephoto lens, attempting to capture the activity of a flock of swooping terns who kept dive-bombing into the ocean for fish. here's a lucky shot, a tern in midflight, carrying his dinner-to-go in his orange bill.

walking the beach

lovely low tide walks are one of my favorite things to do here. interesting today to see how much the beach has changed since last summer. pictured here amongst the seaweed is a feat of nature i've not seen in a long time. it's an almost perfectly round sand collar, the egg case of a particular kind of moon snail. i hope this is an indication of what i might find on future walks!

the beginning and the end

end of day.

beginning of vacation.

july morn

here's my neighbor's woodpile, shot out the window on a hot july morning. this is another picture snapped through the window screen between the camera and the subject. i'm fascinated with the effect it has on the sunlight in the captured image. it almost makes it look as hot outside as it really is.

from a small gardener

fieldstone has been removed from the middle of the perennial garden and the ground is settling in preparation for the installation of red brick pavers in early fall. the little girl thinks this spot is now her giant sandbox and has been observed digging out there with pails, shovels and trucks. and apparently she is planting, too. i laughed out loud this evening to see three solitary but strong scarlet runner bean seedlings, standing erect in the middle of the barren sand.

my new "boat"

on the right, my old gravy boat from my favorite set of dishes. look closely and you'll see that the "boat" itself is riddled with surface crackling in the glaze and the accompanying plate is poorly held together in several spots with super glue. it's been in that condition for decades. often have i thought to replace it but it's a a bit pricey for the two times a year i serve gravy.

on the left, the identical gravy boat, brand new and purchased for a song at a local antiques shop. now i don't want to wait until thanksgiving to use it. so maybe i'll make strawberry sauce for ice cream!

independence day

fireworks and parades and hours at the beach are a fine way for some to celebrate the holiday. but what makes me happy is a family cookout with a lovely, leisurely dinner outside at the picnic table! happy fourth!

milkweed

this tall plant is not very attractive. it seeds itself prolifically and, in the early summer, comes up everywhere. its leaves and stems are very sticky with milky sap that oozes when a plant part breaks. the spherical heads hardly qualify as flowers. you can see here its three graduated forms - the head with the buds at the top and the fully bloomed flower at the bottom. even the pink of the petals is a little mauve-y and washed out compared to other pinks in the yard.

but i let this plant grow intentionally for its one saving characteristic: the aroma of this plant is heavenly and is one of my favorite summertime smells. i catch whiffs of it in sections of the yard. when i pass fields of it, i stop to breathe it in. of all the summer scents, milkweed is the one i wish i could bottle up to take out and breathe in during the cold and dead of winter.

artifacts

it's amazing the things you can find while digging around in your garden. i wonder how old this bottle is. i wonder what swamp root is. i wonder who had to take it. and why. and when. living in this very old house and suddenly finding evidence of its other inhabitants and their lives always leaves me a bit awestruck, wondering for days afterward what life must have been like at this place one hundred, even two hundred years ago.

silver surprise

over a month ago, i hurriedly bought a pair of pants in a department store chain. they're more casual than what i normally wear, so i never even took them from the drawer until this morning. i put them on, then sat outside with coffee to read the daily news. suddenly i felt poking in my backside. i reached behind me expecting to find an insect of some sort but instead found buttoned back pockets which i didn't realize existed - and tucked deep inside each pocket, a jewelry card with a sole silver earring attached.

i photographed the earrings as i thought about what to do with them. should i keep them? return them to the store? what good to them or to me is one earring of a pair? and it happened over five weeks ago!

what do you think? what would you do?

bovine predictions

growing up, we lived across the brook from a dairy farm. early on we learned that cows lie down when it is about to rain. here, we see a herd of indecisive cows, some up and some down - and i guess they collectively were right in their weather predication. even though it was humid and overcast and the skies threatened the entire after-noon, it never did rain.

the unusual request

so a few months ago, out of the blue, i get this email from a guy named colin at the unusual suspects asking me for an interview. i hem and i haw and i outright stall because, quite frankly, i've never had a request like this before. eventually tho, ego gets the better of me and i acquiesce and answer his questions. and here's the result.

by the way, his is an unusual blog - little snippets of pop culture with links to the bigger story. movie reviews and commentary. an entertaining style of writing - and he posts not once but twice a day. i check it daily and have become a follower. go look around and maybe you will, too.

and why the photo of the pansy? no reason. i just like it, that's all.