late spring in the woods

6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut

The wood is decked in light green leaf.
The swallow twitters in delight.
The lonely vine sheds joyous tears
Of interwoven dew and light.

Spring weaves a gown of green to clad
The mountain height and wide-spread field.
O when wilt thou, my native land,
In all thy glory stand revealed?

~ Ilia Chavchavadze
(Anthology of Georgian Poetry)

6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ what is it?

“Summer is coming!” the soft breezes whisper;
“Summer is coming!” the glad birdies sing.
Summer is coming — I hear her quick footsteps;
Take your last look at the beautiful Spring.
~ Dora Read Goodale
(Summer Is Coming)

6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut

To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
~ George Santayana
(Words of Wisdom & Quotable Quotes)

6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ notice the ant in the middle of the flower
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ new growth on a hemlock ~ might the woolly adelgid infestation be subsiding?
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ sunbathing on a boulder
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut

How many Flowers fail in Wood —
Or perish from the Hill —
Without the privilege to know
That they are Beautiful —

How many cast a nameless Pod
Opon the nearest Breeze —
Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight —
It bear to other eyes —

~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #534)

6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ sweet little bluets
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut

Honor the space between no longer and not yet.
~ Nancy Levin
(Grief Interrupted: A Holistic Guide to Reclaiming Your Joy)

6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ Janet overlooking the lawn where the audience sits to watch outdoor theater in the summer
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ fringe tree blossoms
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ more fringe tree blossoms
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut ~ and still more fringe tree blossoms

wild turkeys

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You can’t be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet.
~ Hal Borland
(Sundial of the Seasons)

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After way too many days of miserable heat and sticky humidity the weather finally changed Sunday afternoon. We celebrated by going to our favorite gluten-free pizza place and having our supper there outside in the fresh air.

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On the way home I spotted six wild turkeys in a field and insisted Tim turn around so I could get some pictures. Most of them had their heads down in the grass, feeding. But the lookout was keeping his eye open for danger or trouble. I’m glad he didn’t seem to think we posed any threat.

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This field is separated from the road by a stone wall. After feeding for a while, the lookout turkey jumped up on the stone wall and started watching the cars go by. It seemed like he was looking for a good opportunity to cross the street with the rafter of turkeys in his charge.

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There was just too much traffic! We grew tired of waiting and the other turkeys kept on feeding themselves so we decided to leave. When we drove past him on the road I tried to get a picture of him from that side of the wall, but it came out blurry. But still, it was fun to watch them, and a great way to end the weekend.

below zero

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how gulls hunker down in frigid temperatures ~ 2.16.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

Oh the snow fell without a break
Buffalo died in the frozen fields you know
Through the coldest winter in almost fourteen years
I couldn’t believe you kept a smile
~ Rod Stewart
♫ (Mandolin Wind) ♫

the rocks where the oystercatchers made their nest last summer...
the rocks where the oystercatchers made their nest last summer ~ 2.16.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

Cabin fever drove us out of our “cabin” yesterday. It was way too bitterly cold and windy to take a walk, so we drove around all morning, had lunch at our favorite restaurant, and then drove around some more. To get some shots I would hop out of the car for a few seconds, but mostly I rolled down the window to shoot. Even with layers the cold was bone-chilling…

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2.16.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

First we went down to the beach where a small circle was plowed into the parking lot. The gulls looked miserable – they usually are standing when resting, even in winter, but this was the first time I’ve seen them hunker down like this. Sadly, I’m guessing some of them won’t make it through the winter.

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Beach Pond was frozen over and starkly beautiful ~ 2.16.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut
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Beach Pond ~ 2.16.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

As I write this it is snowing yet again – the sight of it gently falling brings me pleasure but I must confess to struggling with restlessness and lethargy this winter, an odd combination, but there it is…

...abandoned nest...
abandoned nest ~ 2.16.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

Over lunch we talked about our plans for Katie’s upcoming weekend visit in March. We’ll take her to see the beach where her mother grew up, and to our favorite restaurant to show her off to the servers there. It’s nice to have things to look forward to, even while savoring the moments here and now.

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2.16.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

More pictures will be coming when I get a chance to post again…

shelter of the dark

OdilonRedon.thedream
“The Dream” by Odilon Redon

The world rests in the night. Trees, mountains, fields, and faces are released from the prison of shape and the burden of exposure. Each thing creeps back into its own nature within the shelter of the dark. Darkness is the ancient womb. Nighttime is womb-time. Our souls come out to play. The darkness absolves everything; the struggle for identity and impression falls away. We rest in the night.
~ John O’Donohue
(Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom)

For some reason I’ve been sleeping very well this winter. After the excitement of the holidays drifted away the days now seem very peaceful, the nights long and restful, and my dreams full of sweetness. Perhaps I am creeping back into my own nature. I’ve been “pruning” my family tree by day because it needs a lot of editing every once in a while.

A few Alberta clippers (fast moving snowstorms that seem to originate in Alberta, Canada) have passed through, leaving delightful snow flurries and light coatings of powdery snow. The bitter cold snaps have been more remarkable. The lowest temperature we’ve had here by the shore so far was 2°F (-17°C). Inland has been much colder. Today I will start putting away the solstice decorations. It would be nice to have at least one big snowstorm, a nor’easter, this winter…

everything is flowing

Blue Marble image of North America by NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring

In the belly of the furnace of creativity is a sexual fire; the flames twine about each other in fear and delight. The same sort of coiling, at a cooler, slower pace, is what the life of this planet looks like. The enormous spirals of typhoons, the twists and turns of mountain ranges and gorges, the waves and the deep ocean currents – a dragonlike writhing.
~ Gary Snyder
(A Place in Space)

Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have a clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.
~ J. R. R. Tolkien
(The Return of the King)

Contemplating the lace-like fabric of streams outspread over the mountains, we are reminded that everything is flowing – going somewhere, animals and so-called lifeless rocks as well as water. Thus the snow flows fast or slow in grand beauty-making glaciers and avalanches; the air in majestic floods carrying minerals, plant leaves, seeds, spores, with streams of music and fragrance; water streams carrying rocks both in solution and in the form of mud particles, sand, pebbles, and boulders. Rocks flow from volcanoes like water from springs, and animals flock together and flow in currents modified by stepping, leaping, gliding, flying, swimming, etc. While the stars go streaming through space pulsed on and on forever like blood globules in Nature’s warm heart.
~ John Muir
(Meditations of John Muir: Nature’s Temple)

Happy Earth Day!

a sap run

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

Before the bud swells, before the grass springs, before the plow is started, comes the sugar harvest. It is the sequel of the bitter frost; a sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter.
~ John Burroughs
(Signs & Seasons)

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

We had no idea what a treat we were in for when we checked into a motel in Orange, Massachusetts Saturday night. Our plan was to spend the night, grab a breakfast somewhere, and head over to a family reunion in the neighboring town of Athol on Sunday afternoon. In the morning we discovered a great place to have breakfast, on Johnson’s Farm, a restaurant, sugar house, and gift shop! Maple syrup production was well under way, the old-fashioned way.

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

Sugar weather is crisp weather. How the tin buckets glisten in the gray woods; how the robins laugh; how the nuthatches call; how lightly the thin blue smoke rises among the trees! The squirrels are out of their dens; the migrating waterfowls are streaming northward; the sheep and cattle look wistfully toward the bare fields; the tide of the season, in fact, is just beginning to rise.
~ John Burroughs
(Signs & Seasons)

If only some way could be found to share the smell of New England in maple sugar season on a blog post! Our olfactory receptors were tickled with delight to whiff in the aromas of wood-burning stoves and sap boiling down into syrup. We bought a couple of jugs of pure maple syrup! Mostly we’ll be using it in marinades, since pancakes are no longer on our grain-free diet…

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

It was if we had been transported back in time to a place in the heart of New England. It made me appreciate anew that there are more “seasons” than the four four we normally notice as the year goes around. The gnarly old tree in the above picture caught our attention – what an amazing life it has had. And I loved the knotty pine interior of the sugar house in the picture below – so typical of New England.

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

When we got home Sunday night Zoë and Scarby seemed a little angry with us (ears pinned back, ignoring us) for leaving them overnight, but they’re back to purring and following us around, rubbing our legs and talking to us again.

feeling the light

“Brook in March” by Willard Metcalf
“Brook in March” by Willard Metcalf

A Light exists in Spring
Not present in the Year
At any other period –
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn
It shows the furthest Tree
Opon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay –

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #962)

the light is winning

“Enclosed Field with Rising Sun” by Vincent van Gogh
“Enclosed Field with Rising Sun” by Vincent van Gogh

Over lowland, over snow and tundra
span arches, raised by the rising sun.
See: the light is winning!
And the stream is streaming
towards open minds
and towards seeds dreaming
of growth.
~ Einar Skjæraasen
(The Nordic Light)

Strawberry Fields

1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
imagine ~ 1.28.12 ~ New York, New York

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.

1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
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
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?

1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York

photos by Timothy Rodgers