tablescape

since october has arrived, it's probably time to put away some of the outside furniture. but this table under the big maple is still one of my favorite places to work on a brilliant sunny afternoon or a crisp still evening. perhaps in a few more weeks...

prank

i anticipated we'd be out walking in the woods this glorious fall weekend, so i took an acorn from the fidget bowl, drew a tiny face on it, and placed it along the path on an isolated bed of moss where i was sure the little girl would find it. and find it she did. she let out a gasp of disbelief, a whoop of joy, and gave me a big hug after i finally admitted that, yes, i had put it there. then she ran back to the house laughing and whooping some more and yelling, "this is hysterical!"

what a great reaction. i must do this for her more often!

where have all the monarchs gone?

milkweed plants are pretty prolific here in this neck of the woods. every spring, i leave several plants to grow in the yard and in the garden. around here, milkweed is the food of choice for monarch caterpillars as they grow. they feast on the leaves midsummer and then, when it's time, they go into their chrysalis formation right there on the plant, firmly attached to a stem or a leaf, their casings brilliant green with a glittering band of gold. most years there are many, many monarchs here, in various stages of growth. this year, despite my best investigative efforts, i can find not a one. zero. zip. nada.

abrupt changes like this worry me, especially where nature is concerned. i have not researched this to see if there's a reason, but i hope this is just a local phenomenon and pray that it's simply a one-year anomaly. spring was too cold. it snowed at the end of may. the summer was too wet. something like that.  
on a related note, last year i took a monarch caterpillar and the milkweed plant it lived on to the little girl's school so her class could observe the transformation firsthand. the creature died. i felt badly then. i feel worse now.

here and now

i am still here. the rhythm i thought i had seems erratic these last few days. i am busy, certainly, but am not feeling terribly productive and i can't quite figure out why. a wise friend says i am just not used to leisure and perhaps she is right. i am looking forward to a few day trips this week. maybe that will help.

i sure don't want this space to turn into a whine-fest, a pity party, but this change in lifestyle dominates my existence right now, so i am struggling with upbeat, interesting ideas for posts. it's pretty silly, i know - all the time i've been writing to this blog, how many times did i actually blog about work? not many!

so bear with me. please.

red

found on the walk this morning, lots of reds all around...

with more to come as fall commences. 

rhythm of days

it seems i'm beginning to find my retirement "groove", to establish some structure to my days, a bit of a routine in my life. i am working a lot, lazing a bit, and certainly taking time for myself that can't remember ever taking before. today as i was walking, as i watched a bank of clouds give way to bright blue sky, i was momentarily flooded with a sense of sweet contentment, and felt like i belonged right where i was at this point in my life. i sure hope the feeling lasts.

early morning

by 8:30 a.m., i have been out and back again: had take-out coffee, shopped a bit, spied on the little girl's bus routine, stopped to pick some tansy. it feels strange to be doing so little when i am used to doing so much.

better get busy.

downeast

Odd, but therapeutic, to be away when there is so much focus on school's beginning. a beautiful saturday morning here on the rocky shore, visiting with wonderful friends, mesmerized by the beauty, and with seagulls providing comic relief!

fact

this is the first opening day in over fifty years that i have not gone back-to-school.

just marking the day. 

onlooker

yesterday i watched as this butterfly flitted around my garden, landing on the echinacea, resting for a while, then floating off to somewhere else. she returned many times - at least i think it was the same creature. finally she landed and stayed, and was still there as dusk fell. now this morning, she is there still, unmoving. i did not disturb her to take this photo but now i wonder: do butterflies sleep? or did she die yesterday as i looked on in fascination?

not so little

over the weekend, the little girl visited. she was here on two occasions, yet i was still amazed when she walked up to the door this morning. who is this tall person, all legs and arms and laughter? how did she get so big overnight? milk teeth are loose and jiggle on command, her tongue poking into the hole left vacant by her latest loss. she carries on logical conversations and often prefaces her thoughts with "actually...". she reads, she calculates, she plans. and, in a few weeks, she is headed to school.

i remember her mother growing up quickly - but not this fast. i may need to find a new way to refer to the "little girl" since, incredibly, sadly, she's just not so little any more.

perennials

there's my perennial garden, taken out the window during a rain storm as i experimented with settings on my new camera. note the milkweed standing tall and proud and the dead lupine pods on brittle brown stems! still, this is about as good as this garden gets. in a few weeks, most of the flowers will be dead on their stems (or composted centerpieces) with only the autumn joy sedum for color and perhaps the rosy morning glories climbing that trellis, should they have enough time to bloom. every year i buy cosmos seed for annual color. and every year i never get around to planting them. and i am always so sorry come august.

morning stroll

up and out early to walk, an activity i have promised myself i will resume now that i presumably have more time. but i bring my small camera, of course, and get waylaid by nature and the fascination of the roadside. it takes me twice as long to "walk" as i had planned - but i start my day by seeing some wondrous things...

missing maine

every summer, my brothers and sisters and i travel to a rented house and visit together for a whole week. some of us bring their children and some their children's children. this vacation has become one of my favorite times of the year. during the days, we all go our own separate ways and do our own things, singly or in pairs, but in the evenings, we gather together for dinner and conversation and red sox games on tv. we laugh, we reminisce, we play cutthroat board games. it's so wonderful to be with my family for this extended period of time, to have endless hours to get caught up on the events of the past year, and to store up new memories for the cooler, busier seasons to come. i miss my family this morning - it's always bittersweet when our time together is over for another year.

riches from the beach

found on the beach today: a dollar and a half dollar. the little girl insisted i add the quarter dollar, too!

finished.

for the most part, tonight was my final time at school. i filed documents, deleted folders, finalized lists, covered shelves. i took down the stuffed seagull that's flown over every desk i've had. recycled the remains of my personalized notepad. left treasures for colleagues. turned in my keys. reminisced, and cried.

here's a motley collection of things i had set aside during the days i spent clearing out and packing. together, it forms a collage that represents everything i believed in as a teacher, all the things that were important to me: kids, knowledge, wisdom, books, curiosity, colleagues, developmental stages, wonder, laughter. and fun. always fun.

the elephants

the circus came back to our town today. the little girl and i were there early this morning to watch the set up, as we did last year. of all the animals there, the elephants were the most captivating to me this year, and i'm not sure why. massive creatures, docile, and seemingly content. fascinating to photograph.

4th of july

these are still my favorite fireworks. 

i seek them out every year, i'm still in awe of the animation, and they still make me laugh!

 

 hope your independence day was spectacular!

go away, rain

this morning i am wishing that some of this persistent new england rain would turn around on itself and head back toward the midwest, toward arizona, where it sounds like it is sorely needed. folks there have been in my thoughts for hours now.

getting closer

bittersweet days of late as i finish up a life-long career. a friend tells me i am milking it, taking too much time to finish up and get out. perhaps he's right - but i like the slow, deliberate pace, the empty spaces, the quiet reflecting, the reminiscing and remembering that goes along with all the sorting and packing. so many years. so many kids. so many memories. oh - and sooo much stuff! but more about that in another post...

the big O-6.

for months, the little girl's been talking about advancing to the next age on her birthday, the fraction after her present age getting smaller and smaller by day. i've been looking at cards, trying to find a good one, a readable one, but mostly, one that references "6"! by this age, though, it seems both hallmark and america greeting have added a gender piece - the "girl" cards are pink and cursive, with fairies and princesses, while the "boy" cards are bold and blue and emblazoned with fast cars and superheroes. take out the boy reference and this is the best card i can find: the sentiment is long but decodable, the card folds in on top of itself many times, and it references six about seven times! so i doctor the card, covering boy with a trimmed yellow post-it note and writing girl. i know she'll notice, but i hope she won't mind. and i left the accompanying blue envelope in the rack and took a pink one from behind a fairy card.

alliteration

out my window, in my garden, left-leaning lupines. i thought that sounded hysterical, all those l sounds, and wanted to capture the sight to add to the blog or to instagram. it was even more funny, though, when i downloaded the picture file and realized i took the shot from the wrong side!

almost the end

a week from tomorrow will be my last day of school. my last last day of school. i've had forty last days now, and there will be no more.

some of my students tell me retiring is the same as quitting, and i wonder if, in some respects, they are right. in an odd way, i feel a bit like i'm giving up on my profession - not on kids, just on the the way they're guided through the education process. i have always tried so hard to make learning fascinating, fun and joyous for kids, as it is for me, and i'm just not convinced that's happening any more. sometimes i feel responsible, like i should stick around and try more, try harder. and sometimes i feel like i should just move on and attempt to find a better way. clearly, i have chosen the latter and, at this point, there's no turning back. but i can't help but wonder if i'm doing the right thing.

i have taken a part time position that involves children and books, two elements that are a huge part of my present job. although this position will be very different than what i'm doing now, i am hoping having those two constants will help make my transition easier. 

as i blogged last fall, i am not a fan of change. i've been trying hard to be excited about this next stage of my life, and i hope and trust i eventually will be. but for this next week, i think things might just be a little scary and uncertain. and, most likely, a little bit sad. 

win-win situation

i love t-ball. it's such a civilized game. everybody plays. everybody's at bat until they hit. everyone runs the bases and comes home. players take turns pitching and catching and everyone has a turn in those positions. the coaches are patient and encouraging. the crowd roots for both teams. there's no score. and when the game is over and it's time to go home, each team gives a cheer to their opponents before players high-five each other.  no better team sport than that!

back to spring

this is the last weekend in may, and a long one at that. but the holiday is taking a back seat to the weather. yesterday was cold, damp, and rainy - a wood stove day if ever i've seen one. last night the wind howled, tree branches came down, and we lost power for several hours overnight. to make matters worse, it snowed. SNOW! today dawned fresh and clean, that clear sky, good-smelling weather that comes after a storm. but it's so cold! i went out into the garden with a vest over my sweatshirt and winter gloves under my work ones. for dinner, there's soup. that kind of cold!

in an effort to get back a little of my "first weekend of summer" vibe, i took a long walk in the woods. i didn't bring my camera, so these are taken with my phone. but finding them was just what i needed to remind me that it really is spring!

appreciation

so lovely to be officially appreciated during the week set aside for teachers. flowers and goodies, lunches and cards. but the most meaningful instance was the mother who came to school to seek me out, to let me know the wonderful things her son had said about me, and how much he thought of me as a teacher. her kind word made my heart sing, particularly since i've been questioning my worth for many months now. such a small gesture, with so grand an impact.

sprung

this week, tree flowers fell from branches and translucent leaves began to fan open. this is such a beautiful time, when the sunlight begins to filter in through the trees. it illuminates the forest floor and makes everything look vibrant and alive. it will only be a few days until the leaves start to throw shade -and then, it will all become a different kind of beautiful.

fail x 2

see the wad of paper toweling i dried my hands with as i was walking down the hall, then shot into the wastebasket? i missed (and i never miss!). but then i couldn't even go recover it - because the basket was in the boy's room!

into the woods

today was our first time in the woods since snow melt. now the canopy is sprinkled with fat clusters of tree flowers and ferns' tight circles begin to poke up through the surface of the ground. the stream courses downhill as the little girl wonders aloud where the water is coming from. she adds many natural elements to the pool, predicting which will sink and which will float, then trying to adapt them so they will do the opposite. we sit together on the damp ground. there may be ticks, i think. but i silently promise to check us carefully - and there we sit, playing in the chill water and revelling in springtime.

compost flowers

tiny daffodils, greeting me as I make my first post-winter trip to the compost pile. likely they are survivors from some discarded potted plant. this happens every year but never ceases to surprise and delight me. it's really starting to look like spring.

rising green

here they come - at last!!

i am hopeful that tonight's rain will wash away all that's left of the snow. it's time for spring!

healthy

a good morning of coloring and reading, talking and laughing. after a full week of being away, being sick, being homebound and feverish, today the little girl visited for a while. it was wonderful to see her animated and healthy again - even if she is still snuffling a bit.

spring sky

cumulous clouds at sunset on the first evening of april. 

pink on blue after a winter of too much white & gray.

easter 2013

a suddenly quiet holiday this year as the little girl became ill mid-morning and her family could not come for dinner as planned - and greatly anticipated. there was a quick visit to the girl's house to deliver easter goodies and dinner, but for the most part, the day was oddly still and quite uneventful. i did, however, receive my easter balloon again this year. still wondrous after all these years.

i just realized this: it's the same balloon as the 2012 one. perhaps the easter bunny buys in bulk?

snow diamonds

i have long tried to capture this, the sparkle of the winter snow when it is new. and there it was early this fine spring morning - right there in front of me.

daylight

although it's hard to awake to darkness again, since the return of daylight saving time, i've been enjoying the extra hours of light in the late afternoon and evening. today was cold and gray but i bundled up and took an extra long walk anyway. with another big snowstorm coming, who knows when the roads will be as clear again?

sneakers!

first day i've worn these since november, maybe. what a liberating feeling to not be wearing something heavy and dark, with big ole grooved, slip-resistent soles...

march snow

more snow this afternoon. this is the time of year my love-hate relationship with snow peaks. it's beautiful in march - fat, fluffy, pillow-soft on the ground. whisper-quiet, it brightens the gray snowbanks from previous months. it sticks to trees but melts on main roads. but it covers grass and keeps growing things dormant. it necessitates winter things - hats and scarves, long coats and boots. watching this snow fall is mesmerizing and enchanting - but as i stand here in the march dusk, marveling at the beauty around me, i long for the change to spring. 

flake

winter & spring, all in one shot!
be sure to click to make this one bigger!

world of white

beautiful snowstorm this february saturday. fat fluffy flakes and a forecast of a prolonged event are sure signs that there will be snow to shovel in the morning. but for now, i stay inside and look out, trying to find color in a stark white world. 

heart day, the day after

best valentine ever. 

the fire breathing dinosaurs are my favorite.

hunkering down

you'd think new englanders might have a cavalier attitude about snow...but most don't. this morning our schools never opened, even though there's was nary an inch of snow on the ground. the local library announced yesterday they would not be opening at all today. our governor is urging businesses to shut down early and asks that motorists be off the roads before dark. this in anticipation of an impending storm that will soon descend on the area with high winds and snow. a lot of snow. it'll be good for skiing and snowmobiling, they say. tourists will come. it will guard against drought this summer. all this is true - and so far, it's been a beautiful storm. but i can't help remembering a weather event thirty years ago that left us powerless for a week and housebound for three. i do hope it doesn't come to that. so while i wait for the storm to intensify, i'll drink my tea and read my book and wander from window to window, hoping that i'm prepared for what's to come.

early spring?

how do they know, she asks me, the groundhogs? what if some groundhogs see their shadows and some don't - what do they do then...vote? her curiosity astounds me; her reasoning delights.

for this robin's sake, i hope punxsutawney phil is correct. due largely to his proximity last month, i am fresh out of holly berries.