Fall Windows

When I took the dog for a walk around the yard yesterday, I carried my camera and took a few pictures of autumn leaves. Friday's wind and rain had knocked most of the Maples' brilliant yellow leaves to the ground, but I managed to get a pretty good picture of my favorite Beech tree. I love the variation of colors in her leaves. On the way in, I happened to glance up at the windows in the garage storeroom and was surprised by the Oak trees near the driveway. The afternoon sun had captured every bit of red in those leaves, which normally look a drab brown.

Sumer is icumen in, Lhude sing!!

The tomatoes are in! Yay! Here's a picture of my weekly box of CSA vegies, picked up this morning at the farm. I'm cooking Curried Squash Soup now, a double recipe. If the tomatoes are in, can the beans be far behind?

PS--CSA=Community Supported Agriculture. You pay a set amount at the beginning of the season, and you get a 1/2 bushel box of whatever is harvested that week (or every other week, if you choose). My CSA is with the Center for Living and Learning, about 4 miles down the road, between here and Leiper's Fork.

Shedding time

When I walk the dog around the yard in the morning or afternoon, I like to have my camera handy. It helps me pay attention to what I see, so that I really see it. For a few moments, I forget all else except what's right in front of me. Today I zeroed in on the Sycamore tree in the SW corner of the 3-acre lot. It's in the process of shedding bark, an annual event. The ground at the base of this tree is littered with thin strips of discarded bark. Aren't the layers and colors wonderful?

Chimney Repair

Chimney repair began this morning, early. Two young men are sawing out the damaged bricks and mortar, then replacing them. While this guy was checking his text messages, his partner was in the driveway, mixing Portland and sand with water on a piece of plywood. The mix looked like a thick pudding being stirred with a trowel. He handed it up in what looked like an oversized pastry bag. If the rain holds off for a few hours, they may finish the job today. The white tarp is covering the temporary wooden frame protecting our new (December) heat pump. R. is outside, hovering from a distance, doing odd jobs in the yard. He just cut down the Japanese Maple that the drought killed a year or two ago. Even though we haven't seen leaves on the little tree in almost two years, there's a huge empty space there now.

Sally's Room

In the book, Sally's Room, by Mary K. Brown, Sally discovers that when her room in empty, she can “dance in here.” That’s how I felt after R. and I removed everything but the furniture from my very cramped study. After the skies dumped 16+ inches of rain on us in 6 weeks (April-May), I found mold growing in the southwest corner and knew we had to get my books and files out of there quickly. It took an entire weekend of backbreaking work to do this, but now I can sleep at night, assured that I will not wake up to find fuzz growing on Mary Oliver’s poetry or my genealogy records. Or my CDs, art supplies, etc. (Although I doubt that Mary Oliver would be offended. She’d probably write a poem about the fungi reclaiming her words.) We’re still waiting for the repairs to begin on our chimney and roof before the contractor can even think about making the room livable again. In the meantime, I’m looking at the almost empty room and wondering if I can bear to pitch about half of my stuff so I can actually have some floor space. Maybe to dance in. Or maybe even room to sew or make art. Maybe I’ll redo the closets so I can move the filing cabinets inside. Maybe I’ll move the bookshelves. I’ve already taken four or five bags of clothing to Goodwill, but, alas, only one box of books. Everything else is stuffed into one end of the living room. I plan to be very selective when I put things back, but will I have the courage to cull enough stuff so that I can make art? Dance?

Resting

When I returned home yesterday, R. motioned for me to look out the kitchen window at the birdbath. On the left is what I saw. I wonder if this is the same guy I took a picture of last summer, curled up in almost the same spot. That picture is on the right.


Lying down beside
Our birdbath, the yearling buck--
Velvet antler stubs.

Like an inchworm

I don't know that I've ever gotten a new blouse after finding an inchworm crawling on it, but it was fun to imagine that the worm was measuring for one. Maybe that old wives' tale was created to teach children to be kind to harmless creatures. All I know is that I've never killed one--at least not on purpose--but have always taken great care when removing them from my clothing. Today, while watching the roofer measure and diagram our roof, it suddenly struck me how much like an inchworm he looked, walking so carefully along that steep peak, above the chimney, almost even with the tree tops. Like the inchworm, will he soon give us a new one?

White Amaryllis

This is the white amaryllis that I brought home from Mother’s condo before she died, almost ten years ago. She asked me to take it and the two red ones because she no longer wanted to tend to them. The only time the white one has bloomed since then was the year we heated the greenhouse over the winter. I guess it especially loved all the light coming through that glass room. Last summer I repotted the 3 bulbs into 4 pots. (One of the red ones had grown another bulb.) This one had hardly any dirt in the pot, so I guess it’s thanking us for taking care of it. They usually bloom in the carriage house during the winter, but this year--for some unknown reason--R. got it into his head that he wasn’t supposed to water them, so didn’t. One day in January or February I commented that I wondered why none of them had put out their usual leaves and asked if he’d watered. He said no, he didn’t think he was supposed to. Oops! So, once he started watering, they immediately responded. The red one in the background bloomed while we were in DC for the Poetry Therapy conference, but we got to see it at its peak because the dog sitter emailed us a picture. Nice!

In the Pines

Someone wrote that walking among pine trees reminds us that the way to success is inner peace, calmness, serenity - and letting one's spirit rise to touch the sky. I was thinking about this recently, while walking through our pine trees on a very cold and windy day. Under the canopy of the trees, I stood for a long time, just listening to the singing of the pine needles and feeling the strong power of these old friends. We planted (okay, he planted, but I helped) a grove of about 50 White Pines more than three decades ago, watering and pruning them over the years when needed. They have rewarded us with shade and a wind break from the weather, and a soft carpet underfoot. In cold and hot weather alike, we look forward to reaching "pine tree hill" when walking the dog, because the temperature is always 10-15 degrees better there. When they were small, our neighbor's grandchildren called it "the enchanted forest." It still feels enchanted to me, for it gives off a definite positive energy which reminds me to stop on my path and reach for the skies.

Blue Sky in February

Yesterday I took time to notice the depth of blue in the winter sky. So often I take clear days for granted, or forget that we had them when it's gloomy or raining. Maybe looking back at the photo will remind me that we did have some beautiful weather.

Three trees participated in this photo. In the right foreground is a Sweet Gum. In the background is the Thorny Locust, whose thick brown seed pods help the deer and rabbits get through the winter, and whose long, hard thorns have punctured many a lawnmower tire. And reaching across from left to right in the foremost foreground, as if not to be ignored, are a few branches of the Willow Oak just behind the house. The two closest trees are where the birds wait their turns at the feeder or birdbath, giving us a chance to identify them.

The more I study this photo, the more I am astounded at the complexity of color, shape, and texture of the trees. The clear blue sky was simply a canvas, but provided the perfect contrast. Look again at only the negative spaces, or at the hundreds of small twigs. And finally, notice the "ham" of the skies, the ever-watchful Blue Jay, perched on a broken limb.

Clear day in winter
Uncovering surprises
Shadows and contrasts

25 things going around right now

I guess this 25 list thing got started on Facebook, which is where I first encountered it. I put off doing it for some time, but kept getting tagged by people, so started thinking about which 25 things I would include. So, today I finally did it. It's on my Facebook page, but you can read it here without joining or being obligated. On the other hand, it's kind of interesting--the process, that it. If you try it, let me know...Oh, and by the way, for all you fellow perfectionists, you need to know that you WILL think of something else right after you post your list. Murphy's Law...

25 things going around right now

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.

1. I am an avid bird-watcher.
2. I love to cook.
3. I've read all the novels of Charles Williams and Virginia Woolf several times.
4. My favorite place in all the world is the porch of the Island Inn on Monhegan Island.
5. I spent the first 14 summers of my life in a Victorian cottage in Monteagle, TN.
6. I am a writer.
7. I talk to puppets. And they talk back. Really...
8. I once took 20 pounds of lima beans to a workshop so I could finish shelling them.
9. I've never broken a bone in my body, if you don't count my little toe. ('Cause they don't fix those--they just say "too bad.")
10. I've worked in a jewelry store, at a publishing house, two universities, and for the people who make Super Bubble Gum. (No, I did not twist the wrappers.)
11. I've taught approximately 4,000 children, including Mindy, Meg, and Melinda.
12. I am a poet.
13. I stored a Great Horned Owl in my freezer. (It was already dead. Promise.)
14. I'm a SoulCollage® facilitator.
15. I quit piano lessons because my fingers kept locking up.
16. I met my husband playing Baroque recorders in a quartet.
17. I was on the Parmer Elementary School Girls' All-Tournament Basketball team.
18. If you look for me in early October, you'll find me at the National Storytelling Festival, listening.
19. My best friend and I have known each other for 60 years.
20. I quit smoking during Intermission of La Traviata in 1971.
21. I dream about bears.
22. I've read Women Who Run with the Wolves three times. (I know, I need to get busy. I'm behind.)
23. I used to count clipped coupons at a bank, and therefore recognize most of the utility and school districts in the state of Mississippi.
24. I've never met a vegetable I didn't like.
25. I still have my mother's last pair of glasses, and she died almost 10 years ago.

The Hawk

Yesterday afternoon, R went to the kitchen sink for a glass of water and was surprised to see a large hawk just outside the window. It was on the ground, eating a freshly killed squirrel, but caught R's movement and froze. For 5 or 6 seconds, they stared at each other, both motionless. At which point the hawk couldn't stand it anymore, and flew off, leaving its catch.

This morning we saw that the carcass was still there. A while later, I was reading the morning paper in the den and happened to glance up to see the very large hawk sitting on the edge of the birdbath. Brown and white, so powerful, about 16" tall. I whispered for R to bring me my camera, but couldn't move close enough to get a good picture without scaring it, so just set the camera down and stared. In a moment, it hopped down to retrieve the squirrel and flew off. We saw it a couple more times at the edge of the pine grove, enjoying its breakfast at the base of a tree. I've consulted my bird books and the Internet, but still can't decide if we were looking at a Cooper's Hawk, a Northern Goshawk, or something else.

How fortunate to be able to see this magnificent bird from just 4 feet away!

Bright Lights in Winter

Another cold and windy day. We keep a heater in our birdbath during the winter months so that there is a steady supply of fresh water. Some weeks we have to add a gallon of water a day. How they stand to bathe when the temperature is in the teens is beyond me. In the picture, a male Bluebird and a female Cardinal watch another Bluebird take a bath.

Here's who was visiting for baths and drinks this morning, sometimes seven at a time:

Cardinals
Eastern Bluebirds
White-throated sparrows
Nuthatch
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker
Chickadees
Mockingbirds
Bluejays
Titmice
Goldfinches
House Finches
Towhee
Carolina Wren
Robins
Flicker

Zen Laundry

Yesterday a friend suggested that I "notice the colors"
the next time I did the laundry. It was a mostly white
load, but here is my response...

Folding laundry:
five pillowcases,
two white two yellowed
one old one
embroidered by my elderly
neighbor
when I was a new
bride.
Raising my arms to let
the folded sheet fall
straight, I wonder--will I
be able to do this when
I'm eighty? Three more
items on the pile: two
kitchen washcloths, faded
and worn; one navy and tan
beach towel, used to protect the chair from
Charley's claws.
Charley's gone; the shredded
towel remains.

1/3/09