All posts by Laurie Graves

I write about nature, food, the environment, home, family, community, and people.

A Bike Ride in June at Sunset

Last night, Clif and I went for a sunset ride along Memorial Drive, which goes along Marancook Lake and is one of the prettiest roads in Winthrop. Another plus is that the traffic is light, and drivers are so used to watching out for bikers and walkers that they do not speed on this road.

The evening was perfect for a bike ride, warm but not too hot, and simply put, the light was lovely with the water shimmering as the sun set.

IMG_3153

We came across another neglected roadside beauty.

IMG_3147

As my blog friend Betsy observed, it is very strange to come upon cultivated flowers in unusual places, where it is obvious that there has never been any kind of a garden. I must admit, I really enjoy these unexpected bursts of beauty, which somehow manage to be both wayward and cultivated.

Onward we went, along the lake, in the cooling shadows of twilight.

IMG_3151

Then it was back to Norcross Point, the little lakeside park where we had left the car. As the golden hour was truly upon us, I found there were more opportunities for pictures.

IMG_3156

The apple blossoms and bridal wreaths were no longer in bloom, but there were roses, abuzz with bees and giving the park a slightly coastal feel.

IMG_3169

Here is a closer look.

IMG_3164

Clif noticed the flags flying at half-mast, in honor of the people murdered in Orlando, and he took a picture of the flags. A horrible event, but it so touching to think that the town of Winthrop, thousands of miles away, is in solidarity with Orlando.

IMG_3174-1

Then, it was back to the car, loaded with our bikes.

IMG_3172

And we returned to the little house in the big woods, where it was still light enough to have a drink on the patio.

Ah, summer, summer, summer!

(I know. Officially it’s still spring. But in reality, summer has come to central Maine.)

 

Roadside Beauties

In Maine May is a month of sublime beauty,  but June is not far behind. The leaves on the trees are deep green and full grown, but they still look fresh, and everywhere, everywhere, flowers are bursting into glorious bloom.

On the way to book group last night, I stopped several times to take pictures of flowers and grasses by the side of the road. The light was just right—not too harsh, not too dim—and it was a photographer’s dream. (No matter where I go, I bring my wee wonder of a camera because it is better to have it and not need it rather than need it and not have it.)

This little iris might also qualify as a neglected beauty, lighting up the side of the road with her ethereal purple in a tangle of green.

IMG_3128

Then, it was on to the war of the roses. White?

IMG_3138

Or pink?

IMG_3141

Or really close up?

IMG_3138-1

IMG_3141-1

Never mind! I’ll take them all. Just as I am with food, I am a glutton for flowers.

Finally, I was caught by the more subtle beauty of this grass and the way the setting sun made it glow. Not as flashy as the flowers, I know, but still lovely to look at.

IMG_3121

Tonight, Clif and I will be going for a bike ride, and you can bet I’ll have the camera tucked in my bike bag. Because this time of year you never know what beauty you might find by the side of the road.

In Memoriam for Those in Orlando

This post and this picture are dedicated not only to those in Orlando who were brutally murdered but also to those in this country and indeed in this world who also have been cut down by gun violence and explosions.

Orlando, Colorado, Connecticut, France, Belgium, England, Iraq, Africa, Mexico—on and on the list goes. When will it stop? And, if it does, will I live long enough to see it?

I am drawn to the tranquillity and peace of the Buddha, and I have a little statue of him in my backyard. I find it calming to gaze upon his serene countenance—so very similar to the Virgin Mary’s.

I wish I could bundle that peace and send it outward, so that it would radiate around the world and remind people that most differences don’t matter at all.

Not one bit.

IMG_3047

 

 

Rough Winds Do Shake the Darling Buds of Irises

For the past four or five days, the weather has been terrible in central Maine. We’ve had lashing rain, violent thunder storms followed by a hideous wind that doesn’t seem to know when to stop blowing. (If I wanted Indiana weather, I’d move to Indiana.) Fortunately, the wind hasn’t been strong enough to blow over trees on top of power lines and houses, but it has certainly been rough on the my darling irises.

IMG_3077

However, I’ve been able to prop up most of them so that they still look reasonably good.

IMG_3057

With trees creaking all around us, the wind pretty much keeps us inside. Yesterday, when our friends Cheryl and Denny came over for pizza, Clif couldn’t grill the pizzas outside because the wind was blowing too hard.  But lucky us! His oven-cooked pizza is pretty darned good.

IMG_3089

Nevertheless, we are chomping at the bit, as the saying goes, to eat outside, to spend time on the patio. But until the wind settles down, it will be eating inside at the dining room table for us.

 

An Uninvited but Welcome Guest in the Garden

It is a fact universally acknowledged that gardeners must wage a constant battle against weeds and various invaders that threaten to overwhelm their best beloveds. However, once in a while there comes an uninvited guest that is so welcome, so lovely, and so exactly in the right spot that all a gardener can do is say a silent prayer of thanks to the gardening gods.

So it is with these wild daisies that somehow found their way into my garden in a spot where nothing else really thrived. The daisies—tall, bright, and white—are exactly where they should be—in the middle of the garden. There, I hope, they will stay, and I will do my best to encourage them to thrive and spread.

IMG_3036

I See Beauty, But Clif Sees the Back-End of a Turkey

It’s funny how two people can look at the same thing and come up with two different reactions. When I look at this picture, this flower, this iris, I see Beauty.

IMG_2992

Clif, on the other hand, sees “the back-end of a turkey.”  Oh, how this stabs my heart. I love irises, and if I had a yard with more sun and better soil, I would have clumps and clumps of them. As it is, I have to be content with a few patches, some of which thrive better than others. In short, irises are my darlings, and nobody likes to hear someone make fun of his or her darlings. Especially when that someone just happens to be a spouse of nearly forty years.

Ah, well. Such are the turbulences that roil the little house in the big woods. Fortunately, they soon pass, and when they do, I am able to laugh at Clif’s foolishness, and mine, too, of course.

Here are some more pictures of what’s going on in the yard at the little house in the big woods. And as far as I can see, there is no back-end of a turkey.

IMG_2993

IMG_2947-1

IMG_2926

IMG_2974

IMG_2921

Eligible: A Modern Retelling of Pride and Prejudice

EligibleI am a person who has what might be called “enthusiasms.” In no particular order they include writing, photography, dogs, tea, Shakespeare, flowers, movies, theater, food, and, in particular, Jane Austen. I am such a fool for Jane Austen that I will see or read anything that is remotely connected with her, even though this often dooms me to despair. In particular, I am thinking of the horrible Austenland, a charmless. unfunny movie about a Jane Austen fan who goes to England to re-enact the world of Jane Austen.

Therefore, when on National Public Radio, I heard of Curtis Sittenfeld’s Eligible: A Modern Retelling of Pride and Prejudice, I knew I would have to read it. But would it be a flop on the order of Austenland—how could anything be that bad?—or would it be an engaging retelling of Austen’s most buoyant novel? Readers, I am happy to report that it was the latter rather than the former, and while it doesn’t quite live up to Pride and Prejudice, Eligible is, as the saying goes, a good read.

Eligible is set in Cincinnati, Ohio, where the Bennet family—at least most of them—live in debt in a ramshackle Tudor. Mrs. Bennet is a shopaholic, Mr. Bennet hides in his study, and three of the daughters—Kitty, Mary, and Lydia—sponge off their parents. Liz, a magazine writer, and Jane, a yoga instructor, have flown the nest and live in New York City. However, Mr. Bennet’s bypass surgery brings Liz and Jane back to Cincinnati.

Enter “Chip” Bingley, an emergency room doctor and the recent star of the reality-television show Eligible, where “[o]ver the course of eight weeks…twenty-five single women had lived together in a mansion…and vied for Chip’s heart…” And who should Chip’s best friend be? Why none other than the dark, handsome Fitzwilliam Darcy, a neurosurgeon who went to medical school with Chip.

And so the story begins, and, in general, it follows the contours of Pride and Prejudice. Darcy, in true Darcy fashion, manages to be haughty and insulting at a party, where Liz overhears his disparaging remark about her. This, in turn, gives rise to Liz’s prejudice about Mr. Dacry. Cousin Willie Collins winds up with LIz’s best friend Charlotte, while Mr. Bennet is as funny and detached in Eligible as he was in Pride and Prejudice. And Mrs. Bennet and Lydia? Well, let’s just say that Sittenfeld does an effective job of channelling these two ninnies into the twenty-first century.

There are also some major differences, most of which I’m not going to get into as it would spoil the plot. However, I do want touch on a couple of them. Along with the pairing of Jane and Bingley and Liz and Darcy, one of the book’s major concerns is sex and sexuality, and Sittenfeld explores this in a way that is moving and generous and not in the least gratuitous. Toward the end of the novel, Liz reflects “that if a Cincinnatian could reinvent herself as a New Yorker, if a child who kept a diary and liked to read could ultimately declare she was a professional writer, then why was gender not also mutable and elective?” Why, indeed?

But the biggest difference is that for all of the young women in Eligible, not much is at stake if they don’t wind up with the right partner.  Charlotte is a smart professional woman who does not need a husband to live a good life. The same is true for Liz, and it’s mostly true for Jane. In short, women today have more options—better options, in my opinion—than they did in Jane Austen’s time, where making a good match was the best thing that could happen to a woman. The extremely limited options available to women in the eighteenth and nineteenth century bring a dark note into Pride and Prejudice, and it makes it a deeper story than Eligible is.

Nevertheless, Eligible is very much worth reading.  In the end, I found myself routing for the characters in their own right, as Sittenfeld conceived them rather than as crossovers from Pride and Prejudice.

That, of course, is the mark of a good book.

 

 

The Lesson of the Hawthorn Tree: There Is Always More to Notice

A friend of mine, who has beautiful gardens, has graciously allowed me to take pictures of her flowers whenever I want. As her home is on our bike route, I tuck my wee wonder of a camera in my bike pack and  stop quite frequently during spring and summer.

Over the years, I’ve taken many, many pictures of her flowers, so you’d think I’d know every inch of her yard, but you would be wrong. I found this out the other day when she gave me a call.

“I wondered if you had noticed our hawthorn tree,” my friend said. “It’s in bloom right now with the most beautiful red flowers.”

“No,” I replied. “I’ve never really noticed that tree.”

“It’s in the front yard just behind the garden,” she said. “Come on over and take a picture if you want.”

“Will do!” I said. “Thanks so much for calling.”

The next day just happened to be a perfect day for taking pictures of the flowers on the hawthorn tree. It was sunny, but not too sunny on the tree, and there was just enough light to illuminate the flowers but not too much to have them washed out.

“Funny how I never noticed this tree,” I said as I took pictures.

“Well, most of the year it’s just a tree with green leaves. But in the spring, it’s got those red flowers. And this year seems to be a particularly good year for the flowers.”

Indeed it is.

IMG_2847

IMG_2832

Now, I am a fool for flowers—in my own garden, in other people’s gardens, wild by the side of the road. It doesn’t matter. For environmental reasons, Clif and I stay pretty close to home, and although I never get tired of taking pictures of flowers, each year I can’t help but think that I’m not going to get anything new, that I’ve taken all there is to take in my little world. And each year I’m proven wrong. In a five-mile radius from my home, I always find something new to notice, some new beauty to photograph.

This just goes to show that even an observant person is not going to notice everything that grows around her. Each year will bring some new delight previously unexplored. This is not to slight old friends, such as my purple irises that are nearly in bloom. When those purple beauties open, I’ll be taking picture after picture, just as I do every year.

But it does suggest that we need to keep open eyes and an open mind about things that are near to us, to not take our immediate surrounds for granted. Because you never now what you might find—a flowering hawthorn tree, a bridal wreath in bloom by the lake, or some kind of neglected beauty.

All we have to do is look.