All posts by Laurie Graves
Iris at Twilight
Because of insomnia, I am not a morning person, which means I will never be up at the crack of dawn taking pictures. Never mind! Not only do I get a lot of reading done well past the time when most sensible people are asleep, but I also have the light of twilight for taking pictures. As twilight’s light is very beautiful, this more than compensates for my inability to get up when the sun rises.
Last night was such a golden night. As the sun set, the newly-opened Irises positively glowed. Out came the camera and snap, snap, snap. Within minutes I had taken thirty-six pictures.
Afterwards, Clif and I sat on the patio and had drinks.
“The blackflies aren’t too bad,” I observed, and Clif concurred.
As if that weren’t enough, a hummingbird whirred to the new feeder and then whirred away.
And earlier that day, a blue heron flew overhead, the first sighting of the season for me.
Ah, May!
Firsts, Firsts, Firsts
One of the things I love most about May—indeed about spring—is how it is a month of firsts. Item (to borrow from Shakespeare): First hermit thrush singing its pan-pipe song. Item: First hummingbird whizzing past the shrubs in front of the house. Item: First Iris bloom in its rich purple glory.
After the first sighting of the hummingbird, I figured it was high time to get out the hummingbird feeders—the one on the right I bought new this year. In a pan I mix one part sugar to four parts water and let it boil then cool before filling the feeders. So far there haven’t been any visitors, but soon there will be.
Yesterday temple dog, aka Mei Ling, came out for the first time to guard the garden. She takes her job very seriously, and this year we added a little solar light to help her with her work. Her turtle friend Terrance also keeps watch.
Today, more garden ornaments will be coming out, and I will continue my task of sprinkling ash and organic fertilizer on the beds. Next comes the compost, which we get at our transfer station, and this adds a rich cover to the dirt.
There will be more firsts. We haven’t heard the first loon call or seen the first fireflies or heard the first thrum of June beetles against the screens in the windows. No dragonflies yet. Or butterflies.
But soon these things, along with other new blooms, will be coming. And I’ll be waiting with camera, pencil, and notebook.
Wordless Wednesday: Apple Blossoms and Helicopters
More Down and Up
This is the time of year when the velocity of change outside is breathtaking. Exactly a week ago, the ferns by the edge of the garden looked like this.
Today, they look like this.
Who can blame me, then, for bringing my camera with me when I hang out the laundry? I just can’t resist taking pictures every day, especially as it almost seems that if I sat in one place and stared long enough, then I could actually see the plants grow.
It was on the ground for me to take this picture of violets, a feather, and little white flowers whose name I do not know.
And to snap a shot of baby Jack.
Then, off the ground and a little higher to take a picture of the budding irises. (When they are in bloom, I will be back on the ground as I lie on the patio and try to get a good shot underneath.)
After that, I went from flowers to birds, a real challenge for my little camera. Even though I took pictures of woodpeckers and chickadees, the only decent shot I got was one of this mourning dove.
Finally, higher up to get a picture of sky, sky, sky and the fringe of budding leaves. (If I stare at this photo long enough, I swear I can see the clouds moving across the sky.)
Readers, stay tuned for more pictures.
On the Ground
When I am outside, I sometimes feel as though my head is on a swivel. I look up. I look down. On the upside, there are leaves, sky, and flowering trees. On the downside, moss, flowers, acorns, and insects. Sometimes, I actually lie on the ground to take pictures, and I’m happy to report that even with extremely creaky knees, I’m able to get up on my own. I’m slow, and I’m clumsy, but up I clamber.
Everyday, there is always so much to look at, especially this time of year.
Spring Abounds
Spring abounds at the little house in the big woods. Ferns are unfurling, and violets and bluets have begun dotting the lawn.
In the sun, budding leaves glow like little lanterns, lighting the way for the delightful month.
My gardens are late gardens, coming into their own in July. So far, the only blooms are pink hyacinths. But the foliage of the growing plants is lush, green, and healthy, a good way to start the season.
A couple of days ago, the evening was so warm and free of blackflies—thank you, little breeze—that Clif and I had drinks on the patio. Birds called as they fluttered from the trees to the feeders, and we had the usual suspects—goldfinches, chickadees, nuthatches, woodpeckers, cardinals, and tufted titmice.
Uncharacteristically, Liam—no rodent dog—was on red squirrel patrol, and he had positioned himself under one of their favorite trees. Recently, Liam had had what might be called a little tête à tête with a red squirrel, and since then he has been obsessed with them. Well, it gives the old dog something to think about, and he does them no harm. In true herding dog fashion, Liam trots after the red squirrels and stares at them, and I have not seen him snap or bite at them.
Soon, the blackflies will be gone, and good riddance to them. Weather permitting, we will be able to have our supper on the patio most evenings. We will be planning grilled bread and salad gatherings with our friends. In Maine, the time of warm weather is short, and Clif and I want to squeeze in as much as we can.
Catching the Sun: It Shineth on All of Us
Last night, Clif and I went to Railroad Square to see the documentary Catching the Sun. This good movie was sponsored by ReVision Energy and the Natural Resources Council of Maine, and as the title suggests, Catching the Sun is about solar energy. Its primary focus is the baby steps that are being taken in the United States to promote this much-needed alternative energy in contrast to countries such as Germany and China, which are whole-heartedly embracing solar energy.
Our reluctance to embrace solar energy is, of course, politically driven by oil companies who are intent on wringing every bit of profit they can from oil, coal, and gas. In turn, the money these companies contribute to politicians ensures that their voices will win out and that solar energy will be marginalized and vilified, even.
How ironic, then, that the technology for solar energy was developed in the United States during the space race. Nowadays, unfortunately, there is not much solar manufacturing in the U.S. This should not be a surprise to anyone as the United States has pretty much decided that it doesn’t want to manufacture anything.
The movie follows the green activist Van Jones, who for a short time worked with the Obama administration to promote green energy. However, Fox News decided to shred his reputation, calling him a communist and ridiculing his efforts. Sadly, Van Jones resigned under the pressure, and the Obama administration lost an eloquent voice on behalf of the environment.
Catching the Sun also follows some unemployed folks in Richmond, California, as they train to install solar panels. The movie makes it clear that even though U.S. doesn’t manufacture solar panels, the industry can still provide lots of hands-on jobs that cannot be outsourced foreign countries.
The sun shines and shines and shines. The United States is geographically blessed to take full advantage of this nonpolluting resource. Even Maine, in its northern location, gets a lot of sun, as much as Germany does. The technology has advanced, and the price for solar panels has dropped dramatically. There is no reason to hold back.
But this country is caught in the grip of the oil companies, and at the end of the movie, Van Jones concludes that support for green energy is going to have to come from the bottom up, from states and activists. He might be right, but many states—Maine included—are not exactly committed to alternative energies. It is more than a little depressing to think of where we might be—as a country, as a state— had the political will been stronger. (Right now solar energy accounts for a very small percent of our energy use.)
Still, on we go, and on we hope. At Railroad Square, Catching the Sun was definitely preaching to the choir. But as the Reverend David Billings recently observed on the PBS NewsHour, “The choir has to practice every Wednesday.” (He was referring to the workshops on racial matters that his organization People’s Institute for Survival and Beyond hosts. And how those workshops do indeed preach to “the choir.”)
So sing, choir, sing. Let your voices be heard, and maybe one day the song will be strong enough to drown out the shrill, negative voices that so dominate my state and this country.
Wordless Wednesday: Around the Yard
Blue Thoughts on a Sunny Day
Today, on this lovely day in May, I learned that a neighborhood dog died this morning, and it’s made me more than a little teary eyed. How I will miss this dog’s presence, so elegant and dignified that I came up with a theme song—Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition”—whenever the dog passed our house.
Our dog buddies don’t live long enough, but what bright presences they are in our lives as long as they are with us.
This is for you, beautiful dog. And may you have promenade after promenade in dog heaven.
Notes From the Hinterland 