Flowers, Movies, summer

For the Rain it Raineth Every Day

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As I noted last week, you can get too much of a good thing, and this certainly applies to the nonstop rain we’ve been having.

WBUR, Boston’s NPR News Station, recently featured a newsletter with the headline “Weather whiplash hits home.”  Nik DeCosta-Klipa wrote that the “historic rain caused severe flooding in Vermont and washed out roads and farms in western  Massachusetts.”

In her post this week, Judy, of New England Garden and Thread, writes about the west side of New Hampshire, “which has seen a dam break and roads just disintegrate leaving communities land locked until it is safe to start repairs.”

In western Maine, heavy rain caused washouts and extensive road damage. However, in central Maine, where I live, there was not much damage. This reminded me that sometimes luck—or Fortune as the Elizabethans would call it—plays a big roll in life. If we lived fifty or sixty miles inland, we might be landlocked, too. But while the rain was heavy in our area, it wasn’t heavy enough to cause extensive damage.

While my gardens definitely look beaten down, the flowers are blooming, bringing spots of color to my shady yard.

A toad peeks through an opening of the green leaves of  a platycodon.

Various daylilies are in bloom.

I know I posted a similar picture last week, but I just can’t resist the red against the blue.

Finally, more peeking, this time it’s astilbe through ferns.

We’re supposed to have a few sunny days in a row this week, and I  am looking forward to them. We don’t have central air conditioning, and every thing is damp and sticky.

I’ve heard that summers are only going to be getting hotter as we go forward. We have to adapt, but we also must do what we can to stop the situation—climate change—from getting worse.

Perhaps this is foolish of me, but I remain hopeful.

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Book Reading

This Saturday, July 22, at 2:00 p.m., I will be giving a presentation at the Vassalboro Public Library.

This is the library I went to as a child, and it is one of the libraries featured in my Great Library Series.

I know many readers are far-flung, but if there are readers in the area, please do stop by if you have the chance.

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Watching

Movies: Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One

Last week, we had such a wonderful time seeing the new Indiana Jones movie that we made a bold move: We bought movie passes at our local cinema. For $20 a pass, we can see as many movies as we want. Normally, because of the cost of tickets, we are very judicious about which movies we watch at the cinema. Now, we can take a chance on movies we normally wouldn’t go to the cinema to see.

Mission Impossible is such a movie. I have to admit that I am not a huge fan of Tom Cruise—sorry Tom Cruise fans. But this seemed like a fun summer movie to see with some great supporting actors—Rebecca Ferguson, Hayley Atwell, Ving Rhames, and Simon Pegg, to name a few—and off I went with Clif and Dee.

How was it? Well, there was a lot of action, including one extremely suspenseful train-wreck scene. (That seems to be a thing in movies.) Not surprisingly, Mission Impossible was short on character development, and in both books and movies, I love character development.

The plot revolves around a sentient AI gone rogue and the race to find two keys that will stop it. There will be a Part Two, and I couldn’t help but think that if some of the action scenes had been trimmed, one movie would have been just fine.

Mission Impossible wasn’t exactly a bad movie, but it wasn’t riveting either. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Tom Cruise is no Harrison Ford.

Next on the movie docket: Barbie and Oppenheimer. Or Barbenheimer as the two movies have come to be called because they are opening on the same weekend.

Stay tuned!

Addendum: I forget to mention how long the $20 movie passes were good for. They are good for a month. Going to two movies pays for the pass. After that, it’s gravy. Vegetarian, of course. 😉

Birds, Flowers, Food, Movies, summer

Birds and Blooms and Rain. Plus, a Review of the Newest Indiana Jones Movie

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In Maine, June was a very rainy month, and it seems that July is following suit. I know, of course, that too little rain is a terrible problem, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing. Although my perennials are thriving, my annuals are a bust this year. The tomatoes are tall and spindly with few blossoms; the cucumber plant looks stunted; and the nasturtium seeds rotted in the ground. According to Maine Public, this was one of the rainiest Junes on record, and if the weather gods don’t relent, this also will be one of the rainiest summers on record.

On Saturday, the weather gods must have been looking elsewhere because there was no rain for the entire day. Before they could change their minds, Clif, Dee, and I hurried out to the patio, where Clif made his legendary grilled bread. As we Mainers would put it, that bread was some good. We had small bowls of marinara sauce for dipping.

We also had drinks to salute this day without rain. The owl wine glass belongs to Dee, and we toasted Jackie Knight, a lover of owls.  (Jackie is the wife of blogging friend Derrick Knight.) Jackie, we love owls, too.

July is the time for fledglings, and with my wee camera I was actually able to catch this pair of woodpeckers. The one at the bottom is the fledgling, who with a squawking and fluttering of wings, followed and pestered its parent for food. I do love those fledglings, on the edge of independence but still young enough to want to be fed.

In the front yard, there are bursts of yellow and red to add variety to all the green.

Here is a closer look.

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Watching

Too Many Nazis

Movie: Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

On July 4, Clif, Dee, and I went to Regal Cinema in Augusta to see Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny.  Because of Covid, it had been three  years since we actually went to a cinema to see a movie. With all that’s available on streaming, I thought I was just fine not going to the movies. After all, we have a really nice television with a good sound system.

Turns out, I was wrong. As soon as I settled into one of those big recliners, and the room went dark, I was completely absorbed, enthralled, even. Once a cinephile, always a cinephile. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was watching Harrison Ford, one of the biggest and most charismatic stars of my generation.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny followed the usual contours of the previous Indiana Jones movies: There were lots of bad guys—Nazis, again; a magical artifact that would cause big trouble if it fell into the wrong hands; a thrilling opening sequence where a digitally de-aged Indy ran across the roof of a long, long train; and chase scenes galore.  As you can see from the poster, Indy had his trademark whip and hat.

These repetitions could have made the movie feel stale, but they didn’t. Instead, it was a thrill to see Indy on the hunt again, this time for Archimedes’ Dial, which supposedly opens fissures in time. On that train, in 1944, Indy escaped with half of the dial, outwitting the Nazi astrophysicist Jürgen Voller (played by the excellent Mads Mikkelsen).

Is there another half of the dial somewhere? Is the Nazi astrophysicist obsessed with it? Does Indy, spurred on by his goddaughter Helena (a luminous Phoebe Waller-Bridge) go after the other half? Yes, yes, and yes.

But Dial of Destiny, with its themes of sorrow, regret, and the trials of old age, rises above the average adventure movie. After the thrilling chase scene on the train, the movie shifts to 1969, when Indy is no longer young. We see him at a low point in his life—sad, sleeping in his boxer shorts in a chair, drinking first thing in the morning. His old cocky days are long gone, and it gave me a pang to see him like this. While things perk up when his goddaughter Helena arrives on the scene, that sadness threads itself through the movie, elevating it.

Readers, I loved this movie and would gladly see it again. If you are an Indiana Jones fan,  get thee to a cinema, where you can see it in all its glory on the big screen.

 

 

 

 

Birds, Flowers, summer

Five Minutes—or So—on the Patio

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Recently, Ju-Lyn, of the excellent blog Touring My Backyard, wrote a post about spending five minutes with Fishing at Singapore River, a sweet sculpture of a boy and his dog. Ju-Lyn wrote, “When I encounter public art, I try to take about 5 minutes to explore it from several angles…” This idea came about from a challenge via a blogger who no longer blogs, and Ju-Lyn invited blogging friends to join her in this five-minute mindfulness exercise, which could include any subject or scene.

And where would I go? To my patio, of course, which is approaching peak loveliness.

Sitting at the table, I faced the garden, the bird feeders, and the woods. With my wee camera, I snapped a picture of a chickadee, Maine’s state bird. As my friend Barbara once observed, chickadees might be plentiful but they are never common. No, they are not.

Here’s a photo from another angle.

In a tree above the feeder, a male goldfinch waited. Leery of coming too close when I was on the patio, he was not quite as brave as the chickadee. The sun was shining directly on him, and unfortunately the yellow is a little blown out.

To another feeder came a little whizzing visitor, always a pleasure to see.

And finally, a bit of whimsy.

As I sat and took pictures, I heard the flutter of wings. The strident call of blue jays. The cheep, cheep, cheep of the goldfinches. From up the road, the sound of a lawn mower. A loud clunking as our next-door neighbor worked in his yard. Insects buzzing in my garden.

All around me was life—birds, insects, people.

When I looked at the time, I was a little surprised to find that seven minutes had passed. With so much to see, Time just whipped by.

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A very happy Fourth of July to those in the United States. Clif, Dee, and I will be heading to Augusta to watch the newest Indiana Jones movie. It will be the first movie I’ve seen at a cinema in three years, and I’m really looking forward to seeing Indy on the big screen. At eighty, Harrison Ford is having yet another moment, and he’s one of those actors who has managed to keep his mojo over the years.

After the movie, we’ll be coming home to a little feast of potato salad and, weather permitting, grilled plant-based sausages. If the rain continues, which it’s done for most of June, the sausages will pan-fried.

But no matter which way the weather goes, we’ll have a good time and a good meal.

 

 

Home, summer

Those weather gods

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To borrow from my blogging friend Carol Ann Siciliano of Fashioned for Joy, this weekend was filled with many delights.

On Friday night, we went to Absolem Cider Company, which has become one of my favorite places to go in Winthrop. Along with having a great atmosphere and great drinks, it’s only six miles away from our home. Another bonus: Friday was one of the few sunny days we’ve had in June, which has been cool and rainy, reminding me of the Junes of my youth.

At Absolem, we met our friend Judy, and we spent several beautiful hours at a picnic table on the deck. We drank wine, beer, and cocktails, which we had with hand-cut fries and chips and salsa.  I only thought to take pictures at the very end, but they do give a sense of this wonderful place, where the open sky stretches above the cider company, and you can watch the moon rise.

 

On Saturday night, our friends Dawna and Jim came over for dinner. We had planned to eat on the patio, where Clif could make his legendary grilled bread. Alas, the weather did not cooperate. After one sunny day, the rain came again, and we had to eat inside, having garlic bread, which is good enough but can’t compare with grilled bread. Dawna, who loves being outside as much as I do, kept looking longingly out the dining room window at the backyard and the patio.

“We’ll invite you another time,” I assured her, “when the weather is better.”

As it turned out, the weather was better the next day. As my blogging friend Tootlepedal often points out, the weather gods do like to have their little jokes. Out I went with my wee camera to get photos of my gardens, which are starting show colors other than green.

And what did I spy?

In the front yard, daisies among the ferns and hostas.

Astilbes growing in front of Minerva.

In the backyard, yellow primroses and orange lilies are abloom.

Here’s a closer look at the evening primroses.

I caught a glimpse of one of our resident chipmunks.

And the cat from across the street came for a visit.  The cat, whose name we don’t know, has coloring very much like our own dear Little Miss, who died in March. This cat has a very sweet personality, just like Little Miss, and is most welcome in our yard.

So here we are at the end of what has been a rainy June, and the forecast is for rain for the rest of the week. While I’m fine with cool rainy days, there comes a point where enough is enough.

I’ll have to speak to those weather gods. But I have a funny feeling that they are unlikely to listen to my request for at least a few sunny days.

Weather gods are like that.

 

 

 

Art, Gardening, People

South of the Border to Bedrock Gardens in Lee, New Hampshire

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“The property was a 37-acre dairy farm that had been abandoned for about 40 years. The first years were clearing out the acres of poison ivy, and the pucker-brush. Work on the farm as a landscaped project started about 1987….Bed by bed, gardens were eked out. In 1991, a wildlife pond was added….Now, about 2/3rds of the property is garden.”
—From the Bedrock Gardens website.

Thursday was quite a day for this homebody. In my trusty red Honda Fit, I traveled out of Maine to go to Bedrock Gardens in Lee, New Hampshire, where I met my blogging friend Judy of New England Garden and Thread.

We had hoped other bloggers from northern New England would be able to join us, but that did not work out. A busy time of year, I know.

But two is indeed company, and as soon as we met, we chatted as though we were old friends, which, in a way, we are. We have been blogging friends for many years and have gotten to know each other through our words about our lives in Maine and New Hampshire.

Here we are at the entry to fabulous Bedrock Gardens. Lovely Judy is on the left, and I am on the right.

And here are some pictures of Bedrock Gardens, a really wonderful place. I am afraid my pictures do not do justice to these beautiful  gardens with its many sculptures, most of them done by Jill Nooney, one of the founders who designed and planted Bedrock Gardens.

A faithful canine waited near the entrance to the gardens.

We went through the magic pathway,

where three guardians waited.

What was this lurking in the woods?

Or this?

Then there was this fine fellow.

Finally, a more tranquil scene.

After spending over two hours at Bedrock Gardens, Judy and I went a few miles down the road to Emery Farm Market and Café.  We had delicious bagel sandwiches, and we were able to sit on the café’s porch, where we could eat and chat as long as we wanted.

What could make this already excellent day any better? Why, an utterly delicious donut. (Longtime readers might remember my passion for donuts.)

All too soon, it was time to head home. But I was full of good memories and good food. As we would say in Maine, it was a finest kind of day.

I am hoping that meeting with Judy in the summer will be an annual event, perhaps in New Hampshire, perhaps in Maine. Such a great pleasure to meet with blogging friends.

 

 

 

Environment, Gardening, Spring

The Smoke Blows and the Garden Grows

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Last week, the East Coast had quite a time. Smoke from Canadian forest fires blew down, making New York City look like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie—the air was so thick with smoke that the Statue of Liberty was barely visible in the harbor, and the street lights were turned on at 2:00 p.m.

Incredible as it might seem, Maine—right next to Canada—escaped the smoke. A low-pressure system stalled off the Gulf of Maine kept our air clear. Thank you, low-pressure system.

Fortunately, our eldest daughter Dee, who lives in Brooklyn, decided to come to Maine last Sunday, right before the smoke filled the city. She will be working remotely on a permanent basis and has decided to make her home in Maine. Such a delight to have her here.

Over the weekend, the weather patterns changed,  clearing the smoke away from the East Coast. But the Canada wildfires rage on. We can only hope that the smoke doesn’t travel south again.

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On a happier note, at our home on the edge of the woods, my gardens, with their various shades of green, are flourishing. After a very dry May, we had a week of rain, too much for some people, but I was delighted with the wet weather.

Here are some scenes from the garden.

In the front yard, the chives are in pink blossom,

the blue gazing ball rests between two toads,

and the hostas make a pleasing sweep of green.

The hosta that Judy—from New England Garden and Thread—sent me is thriving.

Now around to the backyard.

The patio is once again an inviting place to sit and listen to the birds sing their spring songs. Last night we heard the ethereal song of the hermit thrush. Such a delight.

And irises, my favorite of favorites, are in bloom.

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This summer is shaping up to be a really busy one filled with events, family, and friends. Therefore, I’ve decided to take the weekends off from reading and commenting on blog posts. But never fear, from Monday through Friday, I’ll be reading and commenting, and come fall I plan to go back to my regular reading.

 

People

Paul Johnson: A Celebration of Life

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In March, our friend Paul Johnson died. In the 1990s, I met Paul through his wife Barbara. She was a dear friend, and we spent many happy hours discussing books. In 2005, Barbara died—far too soon—and I still miss her.

After Barbara died, Paul remarried, and I became friends with his new wife, Judy. They had many wonderful years of traveling together. Then Paul was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, and gradually the traveling came to an end. Throughout Paul’s long illness, Clif and I visited often, bringing treats such as apple crisp, oatmeal squares, and cake. Now with Paul’s death, it feels like the end of an era.

Yesterday, at Absolem Cider Company in Winthrop-–about five miles from where we live—friends and family gathered together for a celebration of Paul’s life. Paul, a forester, loved the rural life, and Absolem Cider Company was the perfect place for such a gathering.

This description from Absolem’s website captures the rustic charm of the Cider Company: “Our farmhouse cidery and nascent orchard is located along the western side of the Cobbosseecontee Lake nestled between dense woods, and rolling farmland. A short distance from the neighboring towns of Augusta and Gardiner along the Kennebec River that cuts through the heart of Maine.”

Here are some pictures of this beautiful place. Unfortuantely, the day was grey and rainy, and they don’t do justice to  the simple elegance of Absolem Cider Company.

The restored timber-frame barn from the outside

and from the inside, where old and new meet.

There’s also a picnic area for sunnier days when food trucks come.

And best of all, chickens.

After a tasty buffet, various people spoke about Paul. Among them were his son, Alan, who told about Paul’s passion for pigeons, and Paul’s friend Gary, who marveled over Paul’s skill with a chainsaw.

I, spoke, too. I related how one day, Paul stopped by with his chainsaw.

“Laurie,” he said, “some of those trees around your house need to come down.”

Indeed they did. As I have mentioned many times, we live on the edge of the woods, and not to put too fine a point on it, neither Clif nor I are skilled at taking down trees.

Without hesitation I said, “Go for it, Paul.”

And down those trees came.

I also spoke about Paul’s grace and courage and acceptance in dealing with a terrible disease that slowly, slowly takes away so much. Paul never complained, and he did what he could for as long as he could. An example for us all as we age and deal with an inevitable diminishment of some sort.

Finally, Clif and I fell in love with Absolem Cider Company. We had always wanted to stop by but somehow never had. We sampled their wine and thought it was delicious. We admired the lovingly restored barn, which is worthy of being featured on the television show This Old House. We plan on returning sometime soon, perhaps on Father’s Day weekend.

This was a wonderful celebration of life for an old friend. We miss him very much.

 

Gardening, Spring

Summer Is Nearly Here

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Summer, it seems, is tapping on Spring’s shoulder. The leaves are full and deep green—no more sweet green fringe—and they sigh as the wind moves through them. The blackflies are nearly gone, and the mosquitos have taken their place. The ticks aren’t too bad even though Clif has been bitten once and needed to go on antibiotics as a preventative measure. I check myself when I come in and so far haven’t found any on me.

As a reminder that Spring hasn’t quite left, the peepers still sing at night. Such a sweet song. Here is a short YouTube audio for folks who have never heard this lovely sound.

I have been busy in the garden, moving slowly but steadily, getting the work done. Most of my focus has been on the gardens, but I did take time to make a potato salad to go with our Beyond Burgers—our first but certainly not last barbecue of the season.

As we ate, we listened to the gentle sound of the water in the fountain, a 60th birthday present from Dee, Shannon, and Mike.

Here are some late spring delights from the yard and garden.

A Jack-in-the-pulpit  between the edge of our lawn and the woods,

wood poppies, also on the edge of the yard,

and Solomon’s seal bending over sweet woodruff.

As always, I wish that Spring wouldn’t rush by so fast, that she would linger a little longer. But like a guest who never outstays her welcome, she will soon be off, letting Summer take her place.

 

Gardening, Spring

Green with a Side Order of Green

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Finally, spring has come to central Maine, to my home on the edge of the woods. I won’t say things are abloom in my yard. That would be going too far. My garden’s brief blast of color comes in middle June and lasts through July.

Instead, what I have is green, green, and more green. But as my blogging friend Quercus once reminded me, green is a color, too. Yes, it is, and when you live by the woods, green is what you mostly get in the spring.

I only had one fatality over the winter, a Jacob’s ladder, which I miss very much. Still, when you consider how cold it got one weekend in February—50°F below zero with the wind chill, so cold that the house cracked and snapped in protest—losing one plant isn’t too bad. I consider it a minor miracle that I didn’t lose more.

In Maine, May is the time to get cracking in the garden, to remove the blown-in leaves from the beds, to add compost and fertilizer, to move and divide plants. By the time June rolls around, the plants have grown to the point where adding much of anything is difficult and dividing and moving seem like a bad idea.

Therefore, out I go most every nice day, and despite my creaky knees, I am making good progress. Twice a week, Clif goes to our transfer station (aka the dump) to get free compost for me. And very good compost it is. For years, I’ve been getting compost from the transfer station, and, so far anyway, I have had no problems with pesty weed seed invading my beds.

The next few weeks will be busy ones for me as I get the gardens sorted. Blog posts will be short, but I will be sure to include pictures that document the progress of the green and growing things in my beds.

For starters, here is the picture of our woods, which is about 60 feet from our patio. I wish I could give you a better idea of the expanse of green that comes to the edge of our yard, but this picture, at least, gives some hint of it.

Here’s a view from the front. Green with a side order of green.

And here’s a side view.

But look a little more closely and you get bits of white.

And what’s this? A flash of purple in the back garden?

Yes, indeed. A lovely sign of things to come.

 

Celebrate, Food

A Very Happy Mother’s Day

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In the United States, yesterday was Mother’s Day. Unfortunately, our eldest daughter Dee is in New York and couldn’t be with us. However, our youngest daughter Shannon and her husband Mike came on Friday and spent the night. Naturally, the dogs came, too, for the early Mother’s Day celebration.

What a treat to have them here. We had Chinese food followed by donuts for dessert. (I am a donut fiend, and I once wrote a piece called “Desperate for Donuts.”)

We spent quite a bit of time on the patio. Luckily, this spring the black flies—those biting scourges of the north—aren’t too bad. A real gift for Mother’s Day. Nothing like having a cloud of bloodthirsty insects swarming around your head to ruin a celebration.

That night, we played a cooperative board game called The Big Book of Madness.

We had a lot of fun with this game.

After playing The Big Book of Madness, we talked late into the night about all the things we love—books, games, movies, and television. It’s wonderful to have Shannon and Mike within driving distance of us. When they lived in North Carolina, we didn’t see them very often.

A sweet, sweet way to celebrate Mother’s Day early.

 

 

 

 

A blog about nature, home, books, movies, television, food, and rural life.