Category Archives: Five for Friday

From Pancakes to Christmas Lights

The week started on a good note, and it only improved as the days went by.

We began with pancakes, one of my favorite suppers. I know. Traditionally they are served for breakfast, but I am not a morning person and much prefer them at night. I hate to brag, but Clif makes the best pancakes. Ever.

From there, a couple of days later, it was on to pizza. I went to Cushnoc to meet friends for lunch and to celebrate the publication of Library Lost. We had very jolly time, and the pizza was utterly delicious.

Midweek, the weather turned cold, but even that had its advantages as Jack Frost left a beautiful ice fern on my bedroom window.

The week ended with lights on the deck.

And I had a little friend watch as I strung the lights.

Now, onward to the Christmas tree. Ho, ho, ho!

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Celebrating with Seafood and a Whoopie Pie

It’s not every day that you get the first shipment of your new book. Therefore, when the box with copies of Library Lost came in, Clif and I decided to celebrate and go to the Red Barn for some of their delectable seafood and, of course, a whoopie pie. So good and so reasonably priced.

And speaking of Library Lost…my blogging friend Eliza asked how a copy might be ordered. Glad you asked, Eliza! For others who are wondering, all you have to do is click here, and it will take you to our Hinterlands Press website, where you can order a signed copy directly from us. The book can also be ordered through Amazon.

On another subject…the holidays are coming—tomorrow is December 1—and yesterday I went into the woods to gather pine and dried fern stalks for outside arrangements on our little deck.

I went midafternoon when this time of year the sun is setting and the woods are filled with shadows. There were lots of fern stalks by the little stream that runs behind our house and eventually makes its way to the Upper Narrows Pond.

There were some winterberries left, a bright punctuation against the white of winter. Fortunately, I had gathered winterberries a couple of weeks ago, when they were more plentiful.

And I came across this tree, covered with fungi.

Always something to notice in the woods, even in the winter.

A Very Brisk Thanksgiving

Yesterday morning this was the temperature, and a brisk wind made the air feel even colder.

There were frost ferns on the door,

and other windows were frosted, too.

No matter. Clif built a fire in the wood furnace in our cellar, and the house was cozy and warm.

This year we had a quiet Thanksgiving, with our daughter Dee being our sole guest. Although Clif and I missed those who couldn’t come, we had an absolutely delightful time. Being movie hounds, we watched two movies. The first was the excellent The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, a dark, haunting Western presented in six episodes by the Coen brothers. The Ballad is available on Netflix. The second movie was the not-so-excellent The Square, which we thought would be a story about modern art and its uses (and abuses) but instead mostly turned out to be the tale of a hapless, bumbling museum director who seemed to be in a permanent state of arrested development. Ah, well!

This year we had a vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner, and it was very good indeed. Clif and I have been going down the vegetarian path for years and are now mostly there. Dee has been a vegetarian since her college days. So we dispensed with the turkey and made the sides the main meal. For dessert was homemade chocolate cream pie, but I forget to take a picture of it.

In the upper left hand corner of the above photo is what looks like a golden roll. However, American readers will recognize this roll for what it is—a biscuit.

Here is a closer look at the biscuits, arrayed in glory on a platter.

American biscuits are something like a scone, but they are not at all sweet and make a fine accompaniment to almost any meal, especially stews and soups.

Biscuits are also good for breakfast, and that’s exactly what we had this morning, along with scrambled eggs made from the beauties our neighbor brought us.

Tonight, there will be leftovers and pies.

The feasting continues!

 

Fur and Feathers on a Snowy Day

Last night it snowed, and we got enough—several inches—so that the plow has roared past our house. A true sign of winter. Here is a picture of our house tucked in the snow, and it always looks so cozy to me. (For supper, Clif is making Snowy Day Potato, Cabbage Soup, a perfect meal for a cold day.)

I always like the sight of dried plants—in this case, ferns—against the white snow.

The remaining garden ornaments take on a different look.

The backyard, with its feeders, draws in woodland creatures with fur and feathers.

One of my favorites is the chickadee, a jaunty little bird.

My friend Barbara, who passed away thirteen years ago, once noted that while chickadees might be plentiful, they are never common. How right she was! I recently learned that in the fall, the brains of chickadees increase in size so that they can remember where they cache seeds. And in the spring, when the chickadees no longer need to remember, their brains shrink in size. Here is a link for the Audubon site for more information about the incredible brains of chickadees.

What a wonder nature is!

And British blogging friends, do you think chickadees resemble coal tits? I know I sure do.

Now There Is Hope

No two ways about it. The recent elections threw me in a tizzy, and I am oh so glad that overall there was more good than bad. I am also coming down the homestretch with Library Lost. Between those two things, I don’t have much energy for anything else.

But yesterday afternoon in the front yard,  the light was so beautiful that I did make time to take a few pictures.

Looking up, there are oak leaves.

Looking down, ditto.

Little Minerva is nearly buried.

And one lone phlox flower hangs on.

Finally, this captures how I feel after Tuesday’s elections. So light, so grateful.

While the work certainly isn’t done—we can never say, “There! Finished!”—after the past two miserable years, there is now hope.

That Austere Time of Year

Farewell, October and welcome, November. The glorious bursts of colors are mostly gone, replaced by the more somber tones of the oaks and the beeches. November is an austere month with so many subtractions that many people find the landscape bleak this time of year.

They have a point, as this picture of the public beach illustrates. No laughing children, no watchful adults. Summer’s pleasures are definitely over, and we no longer have the dazzle of October to console us.

Still, the more subdued colors do brighten the forests around our home, and I find beauty in the more muted tones.

As always, looking down provides its own rewards.

Nevertheless, I can’t help but think that Sherlock has the right idea. Do you suppose he is trying to decide which books he should read during the long, dark cold of winter?

 

The Waning of Summer

Summer has pretty much come to an end. While the days might still be warm and sunny, the gardens around the house tell a different story—autumn is coming.

The back garden is definitely ragged, no two ways about it.

The bee balm is no longer in vibrant bloom, just a few red petals here and there.

Except for the border of annuals, the rest of the garden doesn’t look much better. But the impatiens are positively thriving—I have never seen them so big and full. Clearly, they liked the heat and humidity, even if I didn’t.

And the begonias, troopers that they are, continue to provide welcome color.

The front yard actually looks a little better, and it’s all because of the hostas that I divided and planted in the many holes in my garden. Hostas might not be showy, but they maintain a cool, even presence. Surely there must be a lesson in this.

One plant that is coming into bloom is the sedum—autumn joy. Here’s a close up with a little friend on the top.

Farewell, summer. You might have been too hot and humid, but I treasure those evenings on the patio, the nights with the windows open, the gatherings with grilled bread.