seen sitting in the passenger seat of an suv in a bank parking lot. and look, he's even buckled in. funny the things some adults do when it's time for hallowe'en...
here are the drug store cheepos i had to wear for two days instead of my regular wire framed glasses. over the weekend as i cleared brush, a lilac branch snagged and caught my specs as i heaved it out into the woods. it took forever to find those glasses in the brambles and leaves, and, when they were recovered, they were in quite sad condition. so i wore these scratched plastic readers while they were being repaired. and no one even noticed the change.
yes, it's blurry, i know. i was trying to photograph that orange seed pod on the birch branch but had only the lesser camera and, to make matters worse, was without my glasses. still, i like the colors and textures and wanted to post this even though its blog-worthiness is questionable.
a grey fall saturday is a good day to cut back the gardens and clean them up before snow arrives. pulling and cutting plants, one last round of weeding, and some on-the-spot divisions of plants make the task last all day. as always there are surprises - the blooming johnny-jump-ups hidden among the dead rubekia, a paper thin chrysalis hanging from dried milkweed, the strong scent of lemon balm as my rake passes over the dead flowers. in the vegetable garden, hidden under the damp vines, i find a huge cucumber that has somehow escaped picking. and on the bean pole, i cut and pocket shriveled brown seed-laden pods that hold the promise of next year's beans. after many trips to empty the wheelbarrow, i end the day with a cup of tea in the adirondack chair, tired but satisfied, as the maples release their leaves with the wind.
not sure how much longer grasses will look this feathery and winsome against the evening sky. this morning we had a killing frost. tonight the forecast is for rain - or possibly snow showers. i have yet to see a flake - and that's fine with me.
and it didn't even work. the red sox lost in game 7 of the alcs. no world series for me. no more baseball until spring. and certainly no joy in beantown tonight. *sob*
with this week's full harvest moon and a starlit cold overnight, everything this morning was tinged with sparkling frost for a few brief moments before the breaking sunlight melted it all.
after a poor start to the season, fall foliage is beyond breathtaking this weekend. here i pulled over to the side of the back road i was following to marvel in the colors and patterns and textures of the trees on the hillsides. only after moving beyond the awe and beauty of it all did it occur on me what a great shot this might make - cows and all. 
the first carrot from the garden. neither underdeveloped nor stunted, it's a variety that grows short and fat as it matures and is good for heavier garden soils like ours. other years' attempts have yielded carrots that were puny and thin, hardly more than orange roots. planting this kind was a carrot coup. i sure hope helen's reading this.
these toll house wannabes represent the most productive thing i have done in an entire week's time. don't be impressed or anything. they were from a ready to bake, ready to expire package i keep on the refrigerator door in case guests show up. but it sure felt good to finally accomplish something, even if it was a little easy baking.
maple leaves on the hill in back just after the rain. taken through the back window - a lucky shot.
this boggy spot by the side of the road is where i glimpsed this morning, with my peripheral vision, a great blue heron standing in the mist in the shallow water. alas it was too late to turn the car around and, by the time i came back later in the day, the mist was, of course, long gone, taking the great blue with it.
a while back i hit a landmark birthday - a big one. i'm ashamed to admit i was pretty depressed by it. so in an effort to curb this feeling, i've taken to seeking out the positive aspects that accompany this decline in years. and here's an ongoing one: tuesday is senior day at the drugstore. so i make my list and only shop there on tuesdays. i make sure the twenty-something behind the counter scans my key ring fob. and see the savings? since i started tallying it, i've gotten discounts amounting to around $14. maybe i'll save up for a unicycle.
it seems far too soon, but day by day we're drawing closer to the equinox, that time of equal hours of light and dark. candles burn earlier these nights like this windowsill light, lit after the supper dishes were done and casting its glow on the overgrown summer impatiens in the window box beyond.
every time i stop at the local farm stand for the evening's produce, there's another sign of fall there. pumpkins one day, mums the next, squash, asters. and a dwindling supply of corn.
one last summertime hurrah this weekend at the ocean with the girl and the baby girl, who appears to love sand and rocks and ocean walks just as much as i do
this evening i had my students do a quick drawing to support a math concept. in an attempt to model risk-taking behaviors, i drew too. the sky object i chose to draw was a crescent moon - but we were sharing crayons and the yellow was clear across the room. i settled for the orange, muttering - an orange crescent moon, an unlikely sight. so imagine my delight when, driving home in the dark, i saw the same crescent hanging in the western sky in all its orange glory. i scrambled for the camera but could not capture the moon. so, for the purposes of this posting, you'll have to be satisfied with the image of its crayola counterpart.
in the foreground, the dainty soft soled, leather tie shoe that belonged to the girl when she was tiny. behind it, the baby girl's first serious footwear. two toned and sturdy, with thick soles imprinted with words - run, smile, jump, dance! a rough and tumble shoe, fastened with the velcro that the baby girl loves to rip open and close over and over and over again.
other than me, the only things moving on the beach this morning were these birds. how wonderful to have such a vast expanse of sand and sea virtually to myself.
found on a small sandbar, this tiny hole with tinier rocks clustered tightly inside. a gift from the sea for my camera lens.
off to the ocean, this time for a few days only. i'll see the sea, smell the salt and feel the sun. and make a memory to sustain me through another cold and snowy new england winter. this daylily has nothing to do with that - or with anything for that matter. i just like the way you can almost see the texture of the flower petals.
today i begin my twenty-sixth year as a teacher of small children. 
for all intents and purposes, summer is over. it was an uncommonly short hiatus from school, fraught with medical issues, family concerns, cancelled plans, and no time by the ocean. add to that the rainy, damp days and this summer was almost a bust. but now on to the glorious days of fall, with crisp, clear days and chill starlit nights - and the fervent hope that summer does not try to return in its place.
growing wild on the outskirts of the yard, this is one of my favorite of the "roadsidea" species. a late summer bloomer, it's aptly named since its flower gleams like an orange jewel in a profusion of green leaves. now, see those elongated fat seed pods? the slightest touch will abruptly burst the pod open - pop! - and send tiny wet seeds spitting out in all directions. find some and try it yourself. it's great fun - even better than popping bubble wrap!
look! living proof of the rainy and damp summer it has been. this mushroom was enormous, glowing white-yellow by the side of the road amongst the greens and browns of the underbrush. it was tall and perfect and it looked like something from a storybook. like it should have fairies living under it or sprites dancing around it in the dew.
found on the sidewalk under a maple in a nearby city. it was beautiful and it was huge! (click on the picture to make it big - it's on toilet tissue, see?) i really wanted to keep it and bring it to school, but a local shopkeeper became so excited when i shared it that i let her have it. her young son collects insects and aspires to become an entomologist. so i took this photo, then sent the moth to him with my email address. i want him to identify it. and i want to know he's as impressed with it as i was.
this is the fan on the ceiling of the baby girl's nursery. directly under it, next to the crib, is where i dozed on the carpet this afternoon, waiting impatiently for the baby girl to wake from her nap so we could get back to the serious business of playing. ring-around-a-rosie, wooden puzzles, stacking cups, soft blocks, board books, balls - all those toys and playthings that grammies just love.
early this morning, as the tea water boiled, i ventured into the murky dampness that has been prevalent these weeks, searching for a photo. the best i could do: this turkey feather adorning a hanging plant.
the best part of the summer was recently spent hanging out by day with the baby girl, who has learned to walk. what a thrill for a grammie to see!
some people love to shop for shoes, others buy clothes, still others browse for jewelry or antiques. what excites me is office supplies. felt pens and mechanical pencils, file folders and colored markers, post-it notes in every size, shape, and color. in discount department stores, i meander down the stationery aisles whether i need anything or not. let me loose in staples or office depot and i can entertain myself for hours. the w. b. mason catalog is my wish book. today in the local drug store as i was perusing the back-to-school displays, there hanging on a hook was the new sharpie pen i had only read about - permanent, fine point, and guaranteed not to bleed through paper. and, as pitiful as i know this sounds, i swear, reader, as i stood there choosing my color i felt my heart leap in my chest, just a little.
always, when you're with my mother, you watch jeopardy. since its inception in the 70s, through the many set changes and fewer host changes, my mother has persisted in playing along with the game show, calling out the questions ("what was byzantium?") as the answers (istanbul was once constantinople & before that, this city founded by the greeks) flipped over onto the jeopardy board. in her younger days, she responded with lightning speed, regardless of category. and her answers were always correct. the year that jeopardy came to boston recruiting contestants, we urged my mother to try out, but she woudn't. she would have been amazing. she could have been champion. she might have become rich. in those early days of jeopardy, the game was a family affair, with all activities ceasing and anyone who was home at the time coming downstairs to join my mother in the game. over the years, children moved out, the time of the show changed, and my mother's response time slowed, but she remains a constant viewer. even today, so many years later, i refrain from phoning her while the show is on, but watch at home and wait until the final jeopardy challenge has come to a close and the day's champion has been named. only then will i call and we compare responses. and she’s still right.
shh! there he is. see? not only did he sit for the photograph, he remained motionless until i crept away. he may be there still, camouflaged by the forest floor.
just what exactly is turkey ham anyway? is it turkey? is it ham? if it's really turkey, how can it be called ham? if it's actually ham, how can it be classified as poultry? can a turkey product in truth take on the characteristics of a pork one, and if so, how? and if it is ham, is it considered kosher because in reality it's not really ham at all but turkey? something's fowl here, that's for certain - but is it ham?
eight turkey babies perch atop a stone wall as their mother, left, takes stock. father turkey paces on the other side of the road, trying to avert attention from his family, but to no avail. captured through the windshield on a back road during a wonderful day trip with an amazing friend.
alas, the magnificent poppies pictured below do not belong to me. they belong to my green-thumb'd friend helen in maine and were photographed last summer in her yard on a glorious august day. i might have been enjoying their abundant beauty here in my own garden this summer had i remembered to scatter the seeds pictured to the right, the ones that helen sent to me in the fall. 
i have no idea what these are. all i know is they appeared in the garden with no human intervention, they are prolific, and they make great filler in a bouquet. and they sure are pretty, all light and airy on their slender stems.
on this independence day, a recipe for an interesting light summer dessert:
