4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
If there were Druids whose temples were the oak groves, my temple is the swamp. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Journal)
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
On the night of a full moon, April 6, we took an enchanting sunset cruise on a small skiff into the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge. There had been a natural fire, started by lightning, about a year ago.
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
In southern Georgia and northern Florida there is a very special place, one of the oldest and best preserved freshwater systems in America. Native Americans called it Okefenoka, meaning “Land of the Trembling Earth.” Now this place, where earth, air, fire and water continuously reform the landscape, is preserved within the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, created in 1937 to protect wildlife and for you to explore. ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
Can you spot the alligator eyeing us in the next picture?
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
4.6.12 ~ Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, Georgia
Barbara and son Nate caught on film ~ 4.8.12 ~ Amelia Island, Florida
Another place we visited on vacation was Fernandina Beach, across the border in Florida, on Amelia Island. Shea had spotted some turtles here when she spent a day at the beach with friends. Because Tim is crazy about turtles we had to come see them! This place isn’t a nature sanctuary, and we found the close proximity of nature to civilization a little strange.
4.8.12 ~ Amelia Island, Florida
We were taking turns using the camera this day, too, but Tim took most of the pictures as I recall…
4.8.12 ~ Amelia Island, Florida
With a special pass recreational vehicles are allowed on this beach.
Poquonnock River Walkway ~ 3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
Last weekend we took a short walk on the Poquonnock River Walkway because we had heard on the news that there had been a brush fire. Fortunately the fire broke out behind the Poquonnock Bridge Firehouse, but it ignited several patches of brush along the walkway before the firemen got the flames under control. Everything is so wet there it is hard to imagine how the fire might have started.
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
There were many birds busy in the reeds and trees lining the walkway.
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
It’s disheartening to see all the illegally discarded garbage exposed by the fire. Wish I knew why some people cannot make the effort to dispose of their waste materials properly at the “transfer station.” When I was little we called it a “dump” and we took to heart all the public service ads on TV encouraging us not to be litter bugs!
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
For my sister and me Saturday trips to the dump were fun! Perhaps once or twice a month Dad would load up the back of his pick-up truck with our family’s trash. Beverly and I would then climb into the cab and snuggle up to our papa as closely as we could. This was back before the days of seat belts. The reason we held on tight was that the passenger door would sometimes swing open when the truck turned a corner. (The problem was eventually repaired.) What a thrilling adventure! And the chance to feel the strong arms of our father holding us securely, the chance to feel like precious cargo!
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
On the way home from the dump we got to ride in the back of the pick-up truck! We begged and pleaded and were sometimes rewarded with a side trip up and back down Route 320, a road with many wonderfully smooth bumps – riding over them would make us feel like we left our stomachs on the truck while our bodies were lifted into the air by some mysterious force for a fraction of a moment. These days I’m sure Dad would be arrested for endangering minors, but for me these were the spicy experiences of my young life!
The whispers of shared ecstasy are choral. ~ George Steiner (Grammars of Creation)
pygmy rabbit by H. Ulmschneider (BLM) & R. Dixon (IDFG)
This darling little grazing herbivore lives out west, where I have yet to go, and makes her nest inside of a burrow which she digs out for herself. There has been a flurry of activity in our little nest, too. The “new” barista has arrived!
Ever since November when his brother spoiled us by making soy lattes for us every morning, Tim has been on the lookout for an opportunity to purchase a barista secondhand. He finally located a great deal in the city of New York, of all places, and mobilized our daughter, who lives there, into procuring it for him.
Larisa would do anything for her papa and so she made an appointment with the seller and went to pick up the barista and all of its accessories. As she puts it, the buses were not working in her favor that day and she wound up carrying the heavy appliance for ten blocks. When she arrived at the lobby of her six-story walk-up, completely worn out, she called boyfriend Dima to come downstairs and carry it up the stairs for her!
Then it was up to us to plan another expedition to the big city to pick up the barista. This past Saturday turned out to be the best time for all concerned so we rented another car and returned to New York for the second time in the space of a month. But it was a great excuse for another visit and we enjoyed a pleasant afternoon playing a new (to us) card game, Dominion. Dima & Larisa patiently taught us all the rules and by the time we caught on it was time to leave.
The past couple of days our nest has been thrown into a state of disarray as we debated the most logical place to keep this new prized possession. Other small appliances have been moved here and there to make the best use of available outlets and faucets. A shelf unit has come up from the basement to accommodate the slow cooker collection, and a small table that is now too big for the remaining space has been moved out. And of course I couldn’t rest until I redecorated around all these changes…
Perhaps it would be easier to be a bunny and live on a simple diet of sagebrush. But I have to admit, these soy lattes are tasting very good!
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
Winter is well over the half-way point and we’ve had no snow to show for it. After last winter’s record-breaking snowfall amounts this is a bit unsettling. We did have a lot of snow and power outages for that freak Halloween Nor’easter in October, but that was an autumn storm, not truly a winter storm… What strange weather.
2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
Bulbs are coming up months too early. Witch hazel is blooming at Mystic Seaport. Tim & I went for a walk on Saturday at Haley Farm State Park, looking for photo opportunities. The birds were chirping away as if it was a sunny spring day! This time it was warm enough for my fingers to hold the camera and take 86 pictures. Perhaps I should have tried a landscape setting for a few of them. But I’m still getting used to holding it properly and finding the shutter button at the same time…
Caleb Haley owned and farmed this land in Noank, Connecticut, and took on the daunting task of building stone walls between the pastures all over the property. The crumbling foundations of his house, stables and barns remain. In October of 1898, Walter Hill came from New York to visit his friend here and wrote an account of their time together. Excerpts following are from the Haley Farm Souvenir Book, found transcribed at the Groton History Online website.
2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
If there is any one thing in which my friend delights more than another, it is the works of improvement which he is carrying forward at Haley Farm, Long Point; so breakfast dispatched we, of course, drove at once to the locality of the improvement now going forward. ~ Walter Hill
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
It may be mentioned here, that the land in this vicinity and for miles in all directions is covered with boulders, boulders large and boulders small, sometimes ledges, but boulders in all shapes, boulders in all positions, boulders on boulders—everywhere. The first settlers simply removed or cleared the smaller rocks, such as a horse could easily drag out of the way, leaving hundreds of heavier ones half embedded in the soil in all directions. ~ Walter Hill
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
Thus thousands upon thousands of acres of splendid soil have been fit for naught but cattle runs of natural pasturage. To clear such land of everything to obstruct the free running of a plow, is a herculean task and it is this wrestling with the stern face of nature, that I found to be the delight of my host. A forenoon spent in watching and assisting in the operations, found me deeply interested. A device called a “Stone-puller” was quite fetching, and was the invention of a near-by resident whom I was disappointed to learn had never realized much out of it, for without it, such operations as are here going forward, would be prohibited by the question of cost. Mr. H— has 428 acres of just such land as described; skirting the shores of L. I. Sound with deep coves running up on either side of his property; forming between them, Long Point, which is all included in the Haley Farm, with the exception of a tract on the extreme point, which is owned by parties who started to boom it for Summer cottage purposes, but came to a dead-lock with the town authorities regarding approaches, and who should bear their cost. ~ Walter Hill
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
According to the the Connecticut Department of Energy & Environmental Protection website:
In 1963 efforts to protect the farm from being sold to developers began. The State of Connecticut agreed to match funds raised for the purchase of the farm. The Groton Open Space Commission led a successful fund raising effort that led to the purchase of the property. Haley Farm became an official Connecticut State Park in July of 1970.
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
We found several burls on the outstretched branches of this tree:
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
I think this is a private boathouse across the water. I thought it looked especially cheerful and welcoming!
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
So we had a good time poking around our local historic “ruins” and enjoying the scenic views of Palmer Cove. It was nice enjoying a spring day in February, but I’m starting to get a little nervous about what weather we have in store for us this summer. For now, though, perhaps I can manage to stay in the present… It is what it is and what will be will be!
Haley Farm State Park ~ 2.18.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
Yesterday we had lunch again at my new favorite restaurant, Mangetout, pictured above. I had Potato, White Bean & Swiss Chard Soup (yummy!) and Tim was pleased with his Tempeh Reuben Wrap.
Two years ago today I started writing this blog. To mark the occasion I’ve adopted still another new theme, Twenty Eleven, and installed a new and improved email subscription widget, in case any readers are still not receiving notifications. Keeping my fingers crossed! I’ve been self-hosting since September with lots of assistance from my computer wizard son, Nate, even though he moved a thousand miles away from me in November.
This winter has been a no-show. After last winter’s record snowfalls I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed…
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Make your own Bible. Select and Collect all those words and sentences that in all your reading have been to you like the blast of trumpet… ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Journal, July 1836)
The past year I’ve been concentrating more on ‘making my own bible’ here. I love posting words that have been ‘like the blast of a trumpet’ to me, and then reading all the delightful comments my friends leave about how they were inspired by or disagreed with the sentences I’ve chosen on any given day.
But I’m itching to get out on more nature walks soon, to see what I can do with our new camera!
I finally got all of the data transferred from my old family history site to Rodgers Family History – that was a big project. The site is now buzzing with activity and distant cousins as far away as Australia have found us and connected with us. It’s wonderful!
6.24.06 ~ Bristow, Virginia (Jeff Child/Rudy Arias)
Another big change this past year has been our becoming a vegan household and me finally learning to enjoy cooking.
Didn’t see that one coming!
She runs up into the light surprised Her arms are opened Her mind’s eye is Seeing things from a better side than most can dream ~ Dave Matthews ♫ (Best of What’s Around) ♫
This picture of Dave Matthews was taken at a concert I went to with Fran in Virginia in 2006. Thankfully we were under the pavilion roof – there was a tremendous thunderstorm and the driven rain reached us 35 seats in from the edge! The folks on the lawn were soaked to the skin.
I cannot believe that was almost six years ago! Before all the heart attacks, falls, broken hips, femurs and ribs, diabetes, biopsies, dementia, diverticulitis, hypertension, osteomalacia and outrageously expensive prescriptions… Phew! Let’s hope the new diet, walking, and careful sunbathing brings an end to most, if not all, of these problems.
Haven’t been to Dave Matthews Band concerts recently and am missing the spiritual high. But I’ve seen a couple shows streaming online and one once in a movie theater – much more comfortable than fighting the rowdy crowds and jammed parking lots. Still, while the music is playing live under the stars and the words are floating through my very being… there’s nothing quite like being there.
Wondering Rose, this post is for you! I remember when someone visiting the museum where you work asked, “Where’s the museum?” even though he was already in the museum. I was sympathetic to the poor man as it is usually me who gets confused when overwhelmed by crowds, but when we visited our daughter and her boyfriend in New York over the weekend it was my husband who wasn’t keeping up with our guides for the day.
Strawberry Fields 1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
I wanted to see Strawberry Fields, a garden in Central Park that is dedicated to the memory of musician John Lennon. Larisa & Dima led the way into the garden from our first subway stop and there were plenty of signs indicating that we were indeed at the memorial. But Tim was lagging behind and decided to ask a busy gardener, “Where is Strawberry Fields?”
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
“Never heard of it,” the gardener replied, smiling. But then he pointed over to where Larisa & Dima were standing, a few feet away. It made me wonder how often the good-natured gardener (above photo) has to field such questions! It’s all right, though, the snowdrops surrounding the Cornelian cherry tree (below) seem to be confused as well. They do not usually come up until near the end of February, but our winter has been so mild who could blame them for thinking spring is on the way?
lobby of The Ukrainian Museum ~ 1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
Saturday we took a day trip to New York to visit Larisa & Dima, to see their new digs in Manhattan, an apartment on the top floor of a six-story walk-up. We huffed and we puffed and we made it all the way to the top with just a few pauses to catch our breath! After some refreshments and a tour of their sunlight-filled rooms – a marked advantage to being so far up – we went back down the stairs and then it was a hop, skip and a jump to the subway station, where we purchased our passes and spent the rest of the day zipping around the city.
art by Borys Kosarev ~ 1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
Our night-owl daughter Larisa has wanted to live in ‘The City That Never Sleeps’ for as long as any of us can remember. As we followed her and Dima here, there, and everywhere, we got the wonderful feeling that she was born to live in New York and is thrilled to be living her dream at last. She certainly worked hard to get there and is making a difference in the lives of others as a social worker.
Larisa taking in a collection of dolls in traditional Ukrainian costumes. Larisa is a common Ukrainian name – Auntie used to make dolls like these. The top shelf is a Nativity scene. ~ 1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
We spent a good chunk of time in the East Village neighborhood of Manhattan. Since my ancestry is half Ukrainian we visited The Ukrainian Museum. We saw the current exhibition, Borys Kosarev: Modernist Kharkiv, 1915-1931. Kosarev (1897-1994) was a Modernist artist who managed somehow to survive Stalin’s intellectual purges in the 1930s in Ukraine. Outside we found a street named after Taras Shevchenko, a famous Ukrainian poet, artist, illustrator and humanist. I posted one of his poems on my blog several months ago: “My Friendly Epistle“
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
In the neighborhood we also found the sublime St. George Ukrainian Catholic Church…
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
The church is across the street from McSorley’s Old Ale House, New York City’s oldest continuously operated saloon, where the likes of Abraham Lincoln, Woody Guthrie and John Lennon have found refreshment and inspiration. The floor is covered with sawdust and the beer was good, Tim reports. (Being gluten-free I could not partake…) Established in 1854, women were not allowed to enter McSorley’s until 1970!
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
On a side note, several months ago I updated my iPod and suddenly was no longer able to shuffle individual songs on my playlists. Even Tim couldn’t figure out how to do it, and so he suggested that perhaps one of the younger folks could solve the mystery. I handed the iPod to Dima and in a few seconds he handed it back with the problem resolved! Thanks, Dima!! Our trip home was very merry as we sang along with a more varied selection of tunes. It was a great way to end a great day!
