Editing, gardening, house cleaning around the edges. Rinse and repeat. In my own slow way, I’m making progress, but there is still much to do. Therefore, I’ve only got time for a short post this week.
Fortunately, my daughter Dee agreed to let me share her picture of an adorable little visitor to Ladder Village. She took it from inside, but even so, the photo came out pretty darned well.
Until next week!
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I keep listening to this beautiful hymn of a song. Even though I featured Alisa Amador last week, “Together” is so lovely that I decided to feature it alone rather than as part of a set. A much-needed reprieve from all that’s going on right now.
The time has come to take a wee break from blogging. Between finishing Of Time and Magic and spring gardening, I don’t have much energy for anything else.
Two days ago, I crested 100,000 words, and today I’ll begin the chapter I’ve been heading toward since Book One, Maya and the Book of Everything.
Thanks to Mick Herron and his excellent Slow Horses, I’ve figured out how to structure the end of Of Time and Magic. I love the Slow Horses television series, which features the great and good Kristen Scott Thomas and Gary Oldman. I love the book even more—good writing, vivid characters, cracking plot. I highly recommend both the TV series and the book.
So goodbye for a week or two. I’ll miss reading your posts, but, as the saying goes, needs must.
Here’s a parting shot of a hyacinth that my mother-in-law planted thirty-seven years ago. My mother-in-law has been gone for seventeen years, but I’m still enjoying the flower’s spring beauty.
For me, as is the case with many people, nature is a great consolation when there are troubles big and small. Even in March in Maine, there are signs of spring, reasons to be glad and feel a little comforted.
At breakfast one morning this week, I looked out the window and spotted this chipmunk on the small wall Clif built to hide our garbage cans, which we use to store sticks and fallen branches. Chipmunks hibernate in the winter. Seeing the chipmunk out and about, even though the weather is brisk, even though there is mud aplenty, is a cheering sign of spring.
Tiny red buds have started appearing on the maples, and here they are silhouetted against a morning blue sky.
The fungi pictured below is not a sign of spring, but this time of year—when the snow is mostly gone and not much is growing—it really stands out.
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Thoughtful Posts from Some of the Lovely Blogs I Follow
I’m guessing that for most of us, Ukraine is never far from our thoughts. How could it be any other way? Not only is the death and destruction in Ukraine horrible to behold even from afar, but it’s being wrought by a tyrant with an arsenal of nuclear weapons. In response, some of my blogging friends have, in their own way, added their voices in support of Ukraine as they chronicle this terrible time.
Debbie, from Musings by an ND Domer’s Mom, has written a thoughtful post that asks “What’s Valuable to you?” I was particularly taken with this: “To grumble and complain that we don’t have more — when so many have far less — feels like the gravest of sins to me.” Yes, yes!
Jane, from Robby Robin’s Journey, has reposted an old blog post about a trip through the Soviet Union 1970. Her observations and conclusions are illuminating and help provide an understanding of where Russia is today.
DakhaBrakha’s music is not the kind I usually listen to, but that’s one of the reasons why I love NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts so much. It exposes me to music and groups I have never heard of. Also, DakhaBrakha is from Ukraine, which is particularly relevant right now. The group’s music is wild, haunting, and arresting, yet another example of how music can be many things. And the costumes? Well, as one commenter put it, “Came for the hats. Stayed for the music.”
A few days ago I received the most delightful New Year’s card from my blogging friend Ju-Lyn of Touring My Backyard. Tucked inside were three charming bookmarks.
Ju-Lyn wrote “sending along these quaint bookmarks (because readers/writers can’t have too many bookmarks, right?)
A day or two ago in the mail I received a delightful package from my blogging friend Betsy. In it were lemons from a tree in her very own backyard—how cool is that?—a vintage Santa, and a card with a Nordic design, which, being a northern woman, I absolutely love.
Freeport, Maine—home of L.L. Bean—is either a retail paradise or a shopping hellhole, depending on your point of view. In the summer there are so many tourists that parking places are hard to find, and most Mainers quite sensibly stay away until the season is over.
However, just ten minutes away from Freeport’s busy downtown is Wolfe’s Neck Woods State Park, 245 acres of woods and trails tucked between Casco Bay and the Harraseeket River. Wolfe’s Neck is one of Clif’s favorite places, and, as most of you know, this is his birthday week. Therefore, off to Wolfe’s Neck we went with a picnic lunch and a thermos of tea to go with cookies for dessert.
After lunch, Clif and Dee went on a four-mile hike. Because of my creaky knees, I stayed behind and had a delightful time pottering along the edge of a salt marsh.
To get to the marsh, I went down a trail and over a bridge,
past fungi of various kinds and colors.
I came to a steep rocky trail leading to a series of wooden steps and carefully went down to the water. As I reached the shore, a heron flew by, disappearing before I could get a picture.
I was the only one on the little beach by the marsh, which suited me just fine.
On a large rock in the water, birds—cormorants?— rested and watched.
By the shore’s edge, hermit crabs patrolled the waters.
Everywhere, there were fragments of shells, remnants of life that once was. This one reminded me of a shard of ancient pottery. Nature’s art.
All around me was the smell of mud flats and salt water, and I was completely absorbed by the marsh. A place to look. A place to listen. A place to be.
After a while, I carefully made my way back up the stairs and the rocky trail, and walked to a grassy area where I set up a lawn chair.
Clif and Dee came back from their walk, and we had tea and cookies.
Here are a couple pictures from their hike:
Is it any wonder that Wolfe’s Neck is one of Clif’s favorite places? No matter the time of year, there is always something to see and notice.
Because of a busy schedule, I haven’t been posting on Fridays for quite a while, and therefore haven’t been sharing Friday Favorites. However, this week, I received the sweetest little packet from my blogging friend Ju-Lyn of Touring My Backyard, and I had to bring Friday Favorites back for at least this week.
Here is what Ju-Lyn sent:
Ju-Lyn wrote that her eldest daughter tatted the bookmarks. Also that the kitties remind her of our own Little Miss and the stone cat (Minerva) in our front garden.
Many, many thanks, Ju-Lyn. What a wonderful surprise!
Next week, I truly am on vacation. No painting trim, no standing on the toilet to reach difficult spots. Dee has taken the week off, and weather permitting, we are hoping to go to the coast a few times, have snacks by the river in a nearby town, and generally do a little more celebrating in honor of Clif’s 70th turn around the sun.
So far, the weather forecast looks very encouraging. I hope to get some good pictures and if I do, I’ll share them in short posts throughout the week.
The following week—the first week of October—I plan to be back to a more or less regular schedule.
In the northern hemisphere, today is the autumnal equinox, when day and night are more or less of equal length. But from now until December, the days will get shorter as we head toward winter. From the Old Farmer’s Almanac here is a lovely quotation, an Irish proverb: Autumn days come quickly, like the running of a hound on the moor.
They certainly do.
In the United States, we also refer to autumn as fall. I asked my husband Clif which word he thought we used most.
“It depends on whether you want to be hoity-toity,” he answered.
This confirmed my suspicions. In Maine, anyway, fall is more commonly used than autumn.
Whatever you call it—fall or autumn—this is one of the most beautiful times in northern New England. The days are warm, the nights are cool, and soup is back again on the menu. And in October comes a blaze of glory as the leaves change from green to red and yellow and orange.
This September has been spectacularly nice in Maine, with sunny days punctuated by enough rain to keep things green and growing. Especially during this time of the pandemic, we feel very fortunate to be able to spend so much time on the patio.
The gardens at our home by the edge of the woods continue their gentle decline toward winter. Still, there are things to notice and enjoy in the yard.
Little stars of fall,
the tangly garden in our front yard,
hens and chicks on a rock beside the garden,
the waning of the black-eyed Susans,
and a wee red mushroom in the front yard.
Not being knowledgable about mushrooms, I’ll leave this one to the wood fairies and sprites that no doubt come out at night.
At my home on the edge of the woods, my gardens look their best in June, July, and August. This time of year, they are at a frowzy stage, with lots of drooping yellow and brown leaves and spent flowers.
The back garden, more formally laid out than the ones in the front yard, is most definitely past its best. The glory of its summer days are long gone.
However, as you can see from this view from one of the windows in our house, the backyard is still a nice place to be, even in autumn.
In the front yard, the gardens are more haphazardly laid out and are not as lovely as the back garden when it’s at its peak.
However, in autumn, the “tangly” nature of the front gardens really shines, reminding me that late bloomers have a certain loveliness. Perhaps the same is true of people as well?
Next week will be a busy one for me. In between painting and refurbishing one of our bathrooms, we will also be celebrating two birthdays—my 64th birthday on the 15th and Clif’s 70th. His birthday is not until the 27th, but we are firm believers in celebrating early and often.
I will therefore be taking a break from posting, reading other blogs, and commenting.
In a previous post, I wrote about how we were being bothered by yellow jackets, a type of wasp common in Maine. They were buzzing the hummingbird feeders. They were buzzing us. No fun at all.
Sadly, we took down the hummingbird feeders. This took care of yellow jackets terrorizing the hummingbirds, but they still continued to pester us. Online, we read a tip about drawing away yellow jackets by putting sugar water in a bowl and setting it some distance from where you sit.
Easy enough, and that’s exactly what we did.
I am happy to report that this plan is working beautifully. The yellow jackets are so drawn to the bowl of sugar water that they leave us alone. Japanese beetles and ants are also attracted to it, and it seems that many of them can’t figure out how to eat without drowning. Every day, there is a collection of insect corpses—including yellow jackets—and the dish must be emptied, cleaned and refilled.
No matter. Cleaning and refilling the dish doesn’t take long, and it’s wonderful to sit on the patio and not have to worry about being stung by a yellow jacket.
As for the hummingbirds…the bee balm is still in bloom, providing plenty of nectar for those little Wills-o’-the-wisp.
In a week or so, we might put up one of the feeders to see what happens. We’ll see.
In the meantime, no pesky yellow jackets and hummingbirds that are getting what they need.
A blog about nature, home, books, movies, television, food, and rural life.
Notes From the Hinterland 