At The Table In My Sunroom

Something About Sunsets

2011-01-23T10:53:00.000-05:00

There is something about sunsets that always makes me melancholy. Dylan Thomas whispers in my ears.

"Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should rave and burn at the close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Yet, nighttime has its own magic, especially in winter. Snowshoeing through the woods at night, with a bright moon on the snow, owls hooting, stars glistening, is so exhilarating that morbid feelings about night fade away. Maybe I can develop a change of feeling about sunsets if I try to perceive them as about drawing in for a pause or respite from the day, for reflection and contemplation.

2011-01-16T21:18:00.001-05:00

Just had to throw this in here. I had the opportunity to grandmother-sit my granddaughter for the whole day on Saturday, and we had a blast. There is nothing like baby cuddles, little hands in yours, and watching the marvels of discovery in a bright new mind and soul.

Weelll...not so fast

2011-01-13T19:15:00.000-05:00

The aforementioned, well loved, but declared nearly dead pet has made an astounding recovery. After vets proclaimed he had hours to live, with a bleeding and ulcerated spleen, Lisbon rebounded. He's up on his feet, eating well, even frisking around. Just goes to show you... that's why I'm not ready to sign a living will just yet.

Another Goodbye

2011-01-12T17:40:00.000-05:00

We're saying goodbye to another dog. Lisbon, 13, seemed off yesterday: he had trouble walking, breathing and did not want to eat. A trip to the vet, some x-rays and ultrasound revealed a malignant tumor in his spleen, and his spleen was leaking blood into his abdominal cavity. Nothing to be done to save him, but he was (so they said) not in pain or great discomfort, so we brought him home. They did not expect he would survive the night. Today he is still here. He is eating and drinking, and even took himself outside in the fresh 22inches of snow to relieve himself.

Although we realized it can't be too long now, this dog has already beaten a prognosis of death by cancer. Three years ago, he was diagnosed with cancer of the nasal cartilage. Then he was given months to live. Well the vets still can't figure out what happened because, they say, dogs do not survive cancer. I guess it's catching up with him now.

Poetry

2010-12-08T20:23:00.000-05:00

Today arrived the first books of poetry I have ever purchased. (And,this the first post I have written from my iPad. Relation?). I bought two disparate poets: Dylan Thomas and Charles Bukowski. I'll let you know how it goes. I can tell you now, though,that typing on an iPad is quite anti-creative. Blah!

The Promise of Spring In November

2010-11-11T12:27:00.000-05:00

The secret is - bulbs. This small patch of bare earth and dead leaves now looks desolate and uninviting. Yet it is one of the places in my yard that holds the secret promise of Spring inside its heart. I planted about 100 bulbs about the yard. As I planted on a sunny but raw and windy day, I thought about the hopefulness of planting bulbs, the belief in the future, in the cycle of life and return of warmth and color.

Those bulbs, those small brown packages of hope. They look dead. All boxed up in dusty packages on clearance racks of large monocultured chain stores, underneath florescent lights, with bits of themselves flaking off like a bag of onions in the grocery store. The bulbs are on clearance racks this time of year because the chain stores are eliminating the outdoor gardening sections to make way for Christmas. The population's attention has shifted, again. But, it's not really past the season to plant bulbs quite yet.

And, there they sat, the silent promises of beauty and scent, of rebirth and rejuvenation, nearly religious chalices, all but ready to be tossed aside. I reclaimed a few packages, knelt in the wind, dug through dead debris and cold earth for hours. I measured the correct depth for each type of bulb, and laid each in its rightful place. And smiled. What better ritual for accepting oncoming Winter and the loss of daylight savings time?

2010-11-09T10:14:00.000-05:00

The arrival. That stroller is loaded with 2 cats in 2 separate cat carriers and a full diaper bag with enough toys and food to address a 7 hour trip. And still she smiles.

The first weekend home, we feel the need for open spaces, sunshine and views. We climbed the hill of the orchard. Aaaahhh. Let New Hampshire sink in.

Big Day

2010-11-02T11:27:00.000-04:00

Today is an exciting day. One of my daughters is arriving by plane today - and she is not going back! She is moving back to New England. No, sadly, she is not moving in with me. My daughter and her family are going to live in Massachusetts with my Mother, a shorter commute to Boston where her fiance has a new job. But she is now only an hour away, instead of 1600 miles and a half day airplane ride away in Florida! Plus, she (with granddaughter Sophie and fiance Joe) might come up to my house on the weekends!

Photos on next post....

Wish I Had My Camera

2010-10-28T15:11:00.000-04:00

I supposed that is nearly every bloggers' lament. How many times do I have to think it before I put my camera bag in the car? The past two mornings have been visually stunning. We have had many cold nights and even frost, so the lakes and ponds have cooled down. Then, the weather turned amazingly warm and humid with rain and thunderstorms. Then, the last 2 mornings were clear skies with thick fog blanketing the woods and ponds. The morning light through the mist setting the autumn colors aglow has been absolutely amazing. Yet no memorable photos here! The best I did was a few terrible shots from my cell phone as I am driving down the highway on the way to work chiding myself.

This is why you should always have your camera with you!

I Feel So Rich

2010-10-24T15:42:00.000-04:00

It's about the ripeness of fall. The garden's bounty. The color abundance. The clear, fresh air.

Combine that with almost liquid pleasure of a good book, its cornucopia of language tumbling into my brain and filling me like rich dessert.

Combine that with the luxuriousness of Sunday, all that time to indulge yourself in doing whatever you want. I get to peruse the garden and gather the vegetables I want. This Sunday I've made carrot cake from the carrots I pulled, potato and beet soup with sage and mint. Orange, cream, purple and green. All creations from things I've pulled out of the ground.

Nourishment for my body, delight for my eyes, richness for my soul.

Wasn't it Just August?

2010-10-18T14:13:00.000-04:00

When I think of posting, I find myself going back to the same theme: time passing quickly. I picked up a carton of something from the fridge the other day that had a "sell by" date of August 28th. I actually started to use it, thinking, "that's not so bad, it was just August a week or so ago!" I practically plopped right down on the floor right there in astonishment when I quickly then realized August was 2 MONTHS ago. I mean, really, what happened to September?

I know I am repeating myself. How many times can I say "where did the time go?" This time, though, I nearly felt as though I must have been in a coma or something. I literally stopped a moment to go over the events of the last few months in my mind to make sure I really did not step through a time portal. And, no, I did not. We went to our local annual fair - which I blogged about last year - and the annual boat show - we stayed at a fancy hotel in Newport. I remembered being sad I missed my granddaughter's first birthday since she is in Florida, but she's moving back to New England next month so I'll get to see her all the time! Weekends were full of harvesting and processing food from the garden and soaking up the beautiful weather and scanning trays and trays full of slides which cataloged my entire childhood. Yes I remember, it was a good September.

This is my Austen Powers impersonation.

I was not responsible for my hair!

All of a Sudden, It's August

2010-08-14T11:55:00.000-04:00

It happens when you awaken one morning and it feels as if it is too early to get up. It's dark. Not night-dark, but dark in some sort of fuzzy, non-specific, sleepy headed way. The pre-conscious impression is that it is still early yet. The light is dim, unformed. The sun has not yet risen. Or, maybe it's very foggy, or overcast. At any rate, one's slightly more conscious mind thinks, I'm going back to sleep.

Then you catch sight of the clock on your way back down to the pillow.

And you know in your bones that it is August. Still warm, even blastingly hot of high summer sometimes, but the sun is rising much later, and with that day shift you almost feel the Earth's weighty glide towards autumn. Propelling you through seasons and time.

The morning's walk in the woods is silent of bird songs. They are replaced by the rattle and plunk of falling acorns. Crickets and cicadas buzz. The light is flat and it, and lawns, are shifting to gold. Nature's energy feels mature, ripe, unhurried.

I think I know why summer seems so short. Constant change. From the first crocus pushing their miraculous petals through melting snow, to milkweed fluffs drifting over browning fields, the passing from spring to summer to fall is ever changing. Series of flowers bloom, each according to its own clock. Pop, fade. Pop, fade. Spot to spot in the garden, like the longest fireworks display imagineable. Fruiting plants emerge colorful buds, to flowers, to fruit growing fuller and more colorful each day, and then drop to the ground. Birds nest, hatch eggs, fledglings grow until they fly away. The summer scene changes every week like the episodes of a television show.

In contrast, winter is still, unchanging sleep. Once the all green turns brown and black, and the snow falls, and the migrating birds have left and the hibernating animals burrow and sleep, the scene does not change. Though birds flock to the feeder, they are the same every day, all winter. No young ones getting bigger all the time. No gradual shift of species from one month to the other, as flowers would: red ones flocking in December; blues ones arriving in January.

Maybe the change is more subtle. The deer get thinner. The snow changes consistancy. I guess there is always the lengthening of days - but we can miss that all together when we rise in the dark, and return home in the dark for several months no matter the change.

How does one feel the passing of time in tropical places where Nature does not sleep? Are there different rhythms of the cycles of life that simply go round and round, skipping that long pause of winter's quiet? Does the light tell you what time of the year it is?

Summer Vacation

2010-08-12T21:22:00.001-04:00

We climbed mountains.

We played games.

We created art.

I had the wonderful experience of having my older granddaughter spend almost two weeks with me at my home while my daughter headed West to visit my son. My granddaughter is an amazing little person, with acute observations and adventurous spirit. I got to play non-stop the entire time.

After the visit in New Hampshire, I returned her back home to Florida. While there, I got to see my other daughter and my younger granddaughter, not yet old enough to spend a week with me. I had more days of amazement at the intelligence, grace and beauty of my daughters and granddaughters all.

I can't say it any better than Delwyn does. Happy Days.

There's a Hole in My Wall!

2010-08-11T20:34:00.000-04:00

This is the very view from the seat in which I began this post, until the mosquitoes attacked.

(Hey, I just wanted a little LIGHT in my house.)

Yippeee!

This is part of a kitchen renovation. The kitchen sink used to be behind this hole, and now it's

on the other side of the house.

This will be French doors, and the room behind them will be filled with light...and repainted. The red trim was "country," circa 1981.

The dogs think it's great!

From the Water

2010-07-21T10:11:00.000-04:00

The view from the water in a busy port city is fascinating. First, it is not the perspective that a typical viewer usually has. Most things are oriented to the street: the door of a shop; its window displays; signs; flowers and landscaping; lighting.

The water side is the working side. The delivery access. The place where the seafood catch is delivered to land. The docks where the gasloline tanker unloads its cargo.

Back doors.

It's the place where ships are built. This is the oldest continuously operating shipyard in the United States.

You get to see the undersides of bridges.

And all the while, you're on the sea, smelling the sea and its air, feeling its power and majesty.

The Gift of 50

2010-07-14T20:32:00.004-04:00

I thought that turning 50 meant the gift of a wakeup call. Here was a shockingly clear marker defining the last half of my life. There were 50 years of life spent, spent, spent. "Wake up," 50 said. "It's slipping away." "Pay attention." Although happy and feeling saturated in the moment, I also sometimes felt as if my hands were outstretched, fingers grasping at the ephemeral substance of time, trying to hold it still. It was the primary reason I started this blog. I needed to pay attention by recording my days and experiences through words and photographs. I marked time by trying to remember details and focus on the moments of my day.

It came to me the other day, that the very act of that grasping makes time even more evanescent. The energy it takes to notice the fact if its passing chases it farther instead of keeping the moment close. The bittersweet irony of time. Like a dream. Instead, immersing oneself in the moment by living it, and forgetting about how quickly the moment is passing, makes the moment the most realized. Just gulp the moment and swallow and love it and move on to the next.

More Adventure

2010-07-12T21:48:00.000-04:00

I am so excited about this little beauty.

No, not my dog (though she IS cute). I have been wanting to kayak for years and years. Now the adventure begins.

I live in a place that offers so many opportunities to get outside and explore by water. There are so many lakes, ponds and waterways, as well as a gorgeous rocky rugged ocean shorelline (this kayak is too small for that, though). I can't believe it! Now I can throw this on or in the wagon and head out for adventure whenever I want. The potential is tingling in my fingertips.

You Can Tell It's Hot When the Pool is 85 Degrees

2010-07-08T20:51:00.001-04:00

...and the vegetables and flowers have to be watered every day.

...but, the dog still just wants to play.

Red Eft

2010-07-07T23:16:00.000-04:00

I started this post nearly one month ago! What has happened to the time? This was June - perfect weather days with occaisional rain. These adorable little creatures are called Red Efts. They appear on the forest floor after rain, turning my morning walks with the dogs into a tiptoed dance as I try to avoid stepping on them.

I've seen them summer after summer, but did not know until now that what you see in this photo is but a stage in the life of a Eastern Spotted Salamander. At other times in its life, it lives in the water. It is born in the water and lives there in a larvae stage, with gills, for several years. Then it leaves the water and lives on the land for several more years as this bright red teenager. Finally, this flamboyant creature returns to a pond and turns a more camouflaged olive green. This little thing can live for 15 years!

For some reason I am delighted to have discovered this fascinating and unexpected life journey of this unassuming little creature who so bravely stands its ground on the damp leaves as the dogs and I clamber past. There truly is wonder all around us.

And now, nearly a month later, this photo can make me smile, feel the cool morning dampness and hear the quiet of that morning, even as I sit now in the nasty clamour of air conditioners in the middle of a heat wave.

review - Last Night In Twisted River

2010-06-02T21:28:00.001-04:00

Several of you have asked me what I thought about John Irving's latest, Last Night in Twisted River. Unfortunately, from the very first pages I was disappointed to realize that his writing simply isn't very good. John Irving's talent instead lies in his imaginative plots, where characters do unexpected things and are very colorful. Mr. Irving describes the North Country, as people from New Hampshire call the Northern parts of the state that border on Canada, very robustly, if not stereotypicallly. The rougue North Country spirit is embodied by one of the characters, and he is facinating. The other two main characters are not as interesting. The son turns out to be a writer, educated at Exeter in New Hampshire, just like all of Mr. Irving's other books.

Because I was not inspired by the writing, though, I neglected it. I let it sit for long periods unread and unloved. So much time passed between resting and reading (it's a long book), that by the end I finally became fond of the main characters and wished I had paid more attention to them. Still, I have to say, bad writing, bad plot, but loveable characters who grow on you.

These are the days...

2010-06-02T20:10:00.000-04:00

These are the days. These long, lustrous, and luscious days. I think nearly this whole month of May shone with glittery sunshine. Fitting then that this long weekend, marking the end of May and the beginning of summer, was spent luxuriating in the perfection of the landscape and weather.

Even the dog had a roll in the ferns and wore them for the rest of the day like a fairy crown.

When it rains, the skies present a gift, as if in apology for the momentary loss of sunshine.

I've been so bedazzled by this time of year that I can hardly bear to come inside to post.

2010-04-29T10:12:00.001-04:00

I seem to be having difficulty getting on blogger during the day. I either can't log at all or it's slower than molasses in January. Is any one else having problems, or is it just my network?

Garden Time Around the Corner

2010-04-28T20:28:00.002-04:00

This is a stirring sight in our household.

It means that it is almost garden time. The growing season is short up here in the Northern side of the US. So, to help ensure that the vegetables have enough time to produce their goodies, we give them a warm head start inside. When the weather turns to snow in April, these infants stay safe. When freezey breezes toss the apple blossoms into the air, these pampered babies stretch their roots in their pre-garden sanctuary. By the end of May when there is no more chance of frost, we give them their chance to feel direct sunshine and rain at last - that is until we eat them!

Stepping Stones

2010-04-21T20:38:00.000-04:00

I found

that someone had placed

two stones,

centered in a muddy puddle

along the path.

The unexpected discovery

made a touching impression,

that along the path of my

morning walk

in a place that creates

some struggle,

some inconvenience of stride

from having to jump or

feel a cold dampness soak my socks,

someone went out of their way

to place two rocks,

flat and level,

just so.

I can continue easily.

Step. Step.

I'm over the mud

and on my way

to the song of the wood thrush.

The stranger's anonymous kindness

feels like a friendly hand

stretched out

just when I needed it.

Save the Oceans - Buy Seafood Wisely Using Your iPhone

2010-04-18T12:59:00.022-04:00

Formerly titled, Worthwhile "App" - Seafood Watch.

I've known for some time that what seafood I chose to buy could have an affect on our oceans. Yet, I was often confused about what I was supposed to buy, or not buy. Farm raised? Wild caught? I thought I heard somewhere that it is better to buy smaller fish; they're lower on the food chain, I guess. I thought I heard somewhere that talapia was a good choice. Then I heard that it was not. How was I going to find real answers in the midst of so much misinformation?

Then I discovered a resource to answer my questions - an app I could get for my iPhone! I guess I should have known. Yes, there is an app for that!

I only got my iPhone because my husband was crazy to get one, and if he got a cool new phone, I was going to get one, too. As anyone who has one knows, there are hundres of thousands of useful, no-so useful, and downright stupid "apps" to buy and add to your iPhone. Well, here is one that Everyone should dowload and Use! And, it's FREE!

"Fishing practices worldwide are damaging our oceans—depleting fish populations, destroying habitats and polluting the water. Informed consumers can help turn the tide."

This tool, from the Monteray Bay Aquarium, is a must have for all your seafood purchases, whether at your grocery store or restaurant. We consumers have the power to save our oceans. It seems hard to imagine that our vast oceans, which have been a boundless source of food for all of human history, could be on the verge of destruction, but they are. Our growing human population and technological advances in the fishing industry are taking their toll. We must pay attention to what we consume to ensure the continuing bounty of the seas.

I am now using this guide whenever I choose seafood. Before I used this guide, I found it difficult to remember which seafood was appropriate to purchase, and which purchases were contributing to ocean destruction. For example, some farmed seafood are good choices, and some are not. So, simply following a farmed or no farmed, plan does not work. Similarly, the same kind of fish or seafood can be sustainable or damaging, depending on the type or location of its harvest. But, the mere fact that your choices are complicated is now no excuse for not using your purchasing power to restore our oceans. You do not even need to have an iPhone to get the guide. The aquarium's website had a downloadable pocket guide containing the same information.

2010-04-16T14:35:00.000-04:00

It always amazes me how miraculous Nature is, and how tenaciously living things persist in their existence.

It snowed a bit here this morning. Yet, the early grass, leaves and blossoms appear to be taking it in stride. It is not unusual for it to snow in April, and Nature in this area is not quelled by it. Delicate flowers and infant sprouts bend under the weight of damp snow, but do not die.

They seem to me to be saying, "I am here, and I will remain and grow no matter what you throw at me."

Morning Mist

2010-04-15T14:17:00.000-04:00

I took this photo a few weeks back, just before I left for Florida. The mornings were misty then. I believe it was because the air was so warm yet the ground and water, still barely recovered from ice and snow, held on to their nearly frozen temperatures.

There was little green showing a few weeks ago. It is the time of the year where one most appriciates moss, for its oasis of color amidst the drab. Fairy dust, or garden of forest elves, giving the promise of spring to come.

2010-04-14T20:51:00.000-04:00

I left New Hampshire early on an irrationally warm day for the beginning of April - it would be 80 degrees that day. I was on my way to Florida, the Promise Land for survivors of Northern winters and raw muddy springs. When I got to Florida it was - tah dah - 80 degrees! Now THAT wierd coincidence does not happen often.

But I was not going to Florida for the weather. I was going for my heart.

You see now.

This is the unbearably irresistible call.

2010-04-05T07:31:00.002-04:00

The music of life. That is the theme if the book I just closed.
There it is, on my "tray." This is a signed copy, a gift from the author whom I know. I love his phrase - music of life. Think about that. I've considered life many ways, but not as music. But it is. Yes. A simple tune, or a symphony, melodic, jazzy, plaintive and timid, or bold and full.
There is music to our actions in the way we treat others and carry out our beliefs. What about the music of holding a baby, play, and of course making love. There is music in the work we do, especially if it is meaningful. There is even music in sorrow.

What music are you creating?

2010-04-03T11:49:00.001-04:00

Travelling today. This post is being sent via texting from my iPhone. I'm on my way to visit my grandchildren in Florida.

I have four unfinished posts saved, lingering unposted. Where did the month of March go? We've gone from piles of snow to 80 degree weather, stoking the woodstove to casting open all the windows to relish the warm breeze. Our appetites have gone from hearty stews and other comfort sustenance to salads and outdoor grilling. Winter to summer.

A bear has visited the bin in which I keep the birdseed. Twice. I find it turned over and broken apart in the early morning when the dogs and I burst out of the house to greet the day. A telltale bag of seed, ripped apart and dirty, is found yards away from the bin, into the woods.

I wish I had stopped to photogaph the sunrise through the mist which graced my early drive to the airport this morning. It delighted me, made me pause in my "gotta hurry," preflight frame of mind. Still, I chose the airport rush and ended up, as usual, with plenty of time to spare. The beauty I beheld this morning only captured in my braincells.

Spring is in the air

2010-03-06T08:40:00.000-05:00

I decided to celebrate the feeling of Spring

by bringing flowers to the office.

Flowers are such a happy luxury - necessity.

I can't help but smile in the florists' shop,

the damp, fragrant air,

the sound hush, somehow,

maybe from all the leaves, petals and dirt,

singing their own soft song.

I celebrate the feeling of Spring on

Morning walks so balmy,

that vernal pools from the day's melting snow,

remain unfrozen overnight,

to welcome sleepy eyes with glittering reflections,

and whispered trickles.

New Lens

2010-02-28T09:28:00.000-05:00

My daughter has helped understand the source of those luminous still life photos one sees in magazines and some blogs: a portrait lens. I couldn't resist - I bought one. The play of light on texture and color is irresistible to me. It draws me in an unspeakable way, as if I were a helpless moth.

One of my favorite coffee mugs. I've not quite gotten the hang of this lense yet; please bear with me. I will be posting lots of photos as I go along.

My son made this dish in pottery class in high school.

What is your favorite lens?

Can't We Think of Something Better Than Plastic?

2010-02-27T12:29:00.000-05:00

Somewhere In the beautiful Pacific Ocean, a gigantic ugly mass of garbage floats. It's bigger than a landfill. Bigger than a couple of landfills. Think about this - this mass of garbage is twice the size of Texas.

Picture it.

(National Geographic)

David de Rothschild is using his name, influence and engergy to bring the world's attention to this astounding unseen tragedy. Mr. deRothschild has built a catamaran from 12,500 plastic bottles. He will sail from San Fransisco, California to Sydney, Austrailia, investigating the plastic pollution inthe Pacific Ocean along the way. The Plastiki Expedition not only seeks to bring attention to the incredible pollution caused by the use and irresponsible disposal of plastic, it also highlights the many alternative uses for recycled plastic. The entire boat is created from recycled plastic.

I'm taking stock of all the garbage, especialy plastic, that I use. I think it is amazing how much trash one person can generate! While, yes, one solution is to recycle, and we do. But, think about how many products we buy in plastic packaging! Cleaning products, personal hygiene products, hardware, automotive, all those little things that are wrapped in so many layers of plastic you need heavy duty scissors to open them. Why can't we minimize our waste right from the very start? It is hard, if not impossible, to find these products contained in anything other than plastic. There should be other alternatives to plastic packaging? Isn't there a way to make biodegradeable plastics? Yes to both of these, I am sure. So, why isn't this happening?

Thoughts for Those Who are Ill and Recovering

2010-02-25T15:28:00.000-05:00

Here we are, a February day in New Hampshire, and it is so warm that the heavy participation is falling as rain instead of the usual snow. It's been raining so hard that most of the snow is gone. This is the kind of weather we usually have in April! So, it's raw and dreary, and I have a headcold. I'm never sick, and feeling less that 100% is just plain strange. It's almost like I am experiencing myself as some sort of strange experiment: "And here was have an example of 'sick.'"

And yet it isn't. I am not really ILL. These moments of slight discomfort will go away all by themselves. In a few days, the stuffy, foggy headed feeling will be forgotten, not even a memory, because my fortunate, healthy me will be back at it and going along - living - and (hopefully not) taking it all for granted.

What I do NOT forget is that there are so many others who ARE ill, or have suffered hard through illness and recovered: Renee, Maggie May, Barry, Janine. And so many more.

My thoughts and prayers are with you. This is for you.

(kuddleyteddybear2004 - Flickr)

A Good Day

2010-02-21T16:12:00.006-05:00

For February. The sun came out and melted snow. It was strong enough to sit outside without a jacket and feel it on your face.

A flock of robins swarmed the crabapple tree.

And, for the first time ever, cedar waxwings joined the feast.

The dogs played tug o' war.

And I attempted an Olympic feat...

Spinach and Ricotta Ravioli

2010-02-21T14:53:00.000-05:00

I feel so satisfied and accomplished - just for cooking a simple meal. Partly because I figured out something delicious and special from ingredients already around the house. Partly becaue it was my own recepie. Partly becaue it was so yummy. Spinach and ricotta stuffed raviolis.

To a non cook, the idea that a regular person could make pasta, and without too much fuss, is astounding. Pasta comes from factories, I believed, some unknowable process that involves machines spewing forth a hard substance that must be boiled soft. I have come to understand that a not-particularly-talented-cook can create tender, tasty delights. Lola, and Lidia have shown me that it is possible.

I realize now, that magic is always there, waiting to be born from the innocent and ever present flour in the cupboard and eggs in the refrigerator. Mix, knead, press - tah dah!

Saute some garlic in a little butter, add spinach, ricotta and prosciutto. Plop little piles in intervals along a long rectangle of pasta. Fold, seal, cut, and boil. And there you have it! I made a dinner fit for a cookbook, for a cooking show. If I can do it, you can do it, too.

sounds of love on Voyager

2010-02-14T10:44:00.000-05:00

Friday morning I heard a touching love story on NPR (public radio). As I was going about my usual morning routine, I became enthralled by the voice of the woman telling the story. I later learned it was the wife of Carl Sagan, Ann Druyan. She was telling the story of how she and Carl Sagan fell in love and married, and how a part of that process is now travelling through space on the Voyager spacecrafts.

Druyan-Sagan Associates, Inc.

In the piece from Morning Edition, by Soren Wheeler and Jad Abumrad, Ann tells of the comaraderie between herself and Mr. Sagan as they worked together to create the golden record which was placed in the two Voyager spacecrafts launched in 1977. "The records on board were meant to survive for a billion years, in the hope that some day, against enormous odds, they might cross paths with an alien civilization." They were created to educate that alien civilization about Earth. (see link to story below.) Mr. Sagan was in charge of the project and Ann was the creative director. The record included recordings of people saying "Hello" in 59 languages, the song of the humpback whale, a mother's first words to her newborn baby.

Ann and Carl worked together as nothng more than acquaintances colleagues for 18 months. In one night that changed. Ann had been working hard to find just the right piece of Chinese music for the record. She excitedly called Mr. Sagan at his hotel when she discovered it. During the conversation that ensued when he returned the call, they became engaged. They had never even kissed.

Ann then had an idea for the record: if they could record electrical impulses in the human brain, perhaps whomever discovered the records sometime in the future could decode the information and understand our thoughts. Two days after Ann and Carl became engaged, Ann had her own brain impulses recorded. Of course at that time, she was feeling ecstatic and tremendously in love with Carl Sagan. During the recording, she meditated on "the wonder of love, of being in love." That recording was included on the golden record, still continuing its journey at 35,000 miles per hour through space, carrying the sound of a human body in love.

Listen to the show, or download the transcript at:
Carl Sagan And Ann Druyan's Ultimate Mix Tape

2010-02-07T08:55:00.001-05:00

The sun just this minute slid its rays around the piney curtain barring its earlier climb above the horizon. It was almost a flash, or like someone turned on a spotlight. One minute it was dreary gray and cold outside, and the next - light. Let there be light.

I had been sitting in my sunroom feeling... well, gray. No reason. No justification. Nothing to do with my previous post. In fact, I was sort of wondering at it, feeling somewhat more wretched because I am a very fortunate person and have nothing to justify the self indulgence of blah. Then the sun slapped me in the face.

Remembering

2010-02-05T19:57:00.000-05:00

I found out today that a client of mine passed away a few days ago. I myself had been trying to reach her last week. I had wondered about how I would find out if something happened, and whom I should call to check on her. She had moved to another state, so was too far away to check on myself. Today I learned that my concerns were real. She was my age.

I am not able to talk about her in any detail, but I can tell you that she had a good heart, was generous, so outgoing and funny, and she was very brave through hard setbacks she had to endure. I am thinking about you, L. I hope you have peace now.

double black diamond

2010-02-05T10:47:00.000-05:00

Last night I made a milestone: skied the double black diamond trail on our little mountain. What fun! The snow these days is hard and fast - so easy skiing. I am getting used to skiing fast, and last night felt loose and easy. That's the best part. No, wait, the best part is being outside on a sparkling night and feeling the wind tear your eyes (the only part of my body not covered).

Just a tiny funny, a photo memory for myself - just one of the many new chewed items in my home. At least she did not get the phone!

on the trail

2010-01-31T13:19:00.000-05:00

It's fun to discover small wonders while out on the (almost) daily woods-walk with the dogs. This is a growing pile of pine chips a woodpecker has worked out of that tree.

Up the tree about 15 feet are several large holes. I did not have my camera with me, just my iPhone, so the photo is not as clear as I would like. And, because of the backlighting, I could not adjust to get a better image of the holes - but you can see, just barely, the pale tan of newly exposed pinewood. I think that the animal's ability to find food in the winter is amazing. The woodpecker, especially, drilling through solidly frozen wood, hammering its beak with such force. As I sit here, inside, in front of an electric heater, with a full tummy, while the wind sings outside, I know how easy I have it in comparison.

New Things

2010-01-30T12:32:00.000-05:00

A year or so ago we decided we wanted to learn how to ski. As New Hampshire residents and native New Englanders, it is almost a birthright, or rather, birth-obligation. So, we bought equipment and season's passes to the local hill and snapped ourselves on - we became "skiers" of the "just do it" school. Now, I have had skis attached to my feet at other times in my life. When I was 6 or so my older brother caught the bug, and my family supported his interest. I got to tag along until he grew old enough to continue his passion without parents and a little sibling cramping his style, or until I grew out of the ski boots bought for me in the initial parental expression of enthusiasm. My brother's son is now an internationally acclaimed and well known snowboarder, and my brother wins "senior" amateur races himself.

I was left behind. I "matured" without much further experience, but for a time or two on rented skis in another effort towards acheiving skill. It always just seemed like one of those things one should just be able to do and experience. A mysterious ability that seems to spring from nothing, like swimming or tennis, but that actually either develops effortlessly in childhood, or more painstakingly in adulthood. So, when one can not swoop and swoosh as one can clearly see all those other cool people on the slopes do, it gets discouraging, and expensive. Still, I decided that as long as I live here in the Northern reaches of the country, where snow covers the landscape for 4 months or so a year, I'll be damned if I'm not going to get out there and enjoy it!

Mastering a new physical skill at age 50 is a different experience than it as when I was young. Not bad. Just different. Progress is slow. It's about keeping at it, and trying not to be afraid of speed, lack of control, or of breaking a leg. Ha! But then, suddenly it seems after all, I'm sking down black diamond trails. It might not be pretty, really not pretty, but there I am, and it seems like the "just do it" school is worth enrolling in.

Leah

2010-01-18T20:33:00.000-05:00

I finally got the new puppy to stand still long enough to get a few pictures, but just barely. So, here is the lucky puppy from Polk County Animal Shelter in Florida. She's still fairly thin, but I'm working on it. She gets double what the other two dogs get in food each day.

Digging for apples in the snow (underneath an apple treee). She's obsessed with apples.

The usual, playing with the other dog (why it's so hard to get a photo)

The dog in the foreground has dropped a stick at my feet to throw. Leah is chewing, as usual. Lisbon is off with his own toy in the back, so these foreground two don't get in his way.

How Do We Change the World?

2010-01-11T22:32:00.000-05:00

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about what positive change I can make on the world. I feel I have a responsibility, more than that of just being kind and doing good. We have it in us. And if it is in me, too, then I need to use it. (Is this just a middle aged version of a biological clock ticking: babies created and my genes passed on - now to make a larger impact on the world?) I heard Greg Mortenson's name in the media regularly last month as he promoted his new book, Stones Into Schools, and his continuing mission to build schools and promote peace. At the airport, I picked up a magazine, Outside, that was devoted to people "who are changing the world." and how they are doing it. Weeks later, as I drove to skiing one evening last week, the BBC's One Planet was on the radio discussing the status of several people's efforts to stop the use of animals in medical and other scientific research (it's not going very well).

So, these stories are swirling around in my head. People, ordinary people, yet with a spark to make something happen, create something that had not existed before, change something that their gut and mind cry out is WRONG and make noise about it until the rest of us listen. Wow.

What can I do?

Travels With Charley

2010-01-07T21:05:00.001-05:00

I picked up this book by chance. You know the scenario at the bookstore: eyes caressing the books on the shelves like loaves of fresh bread while slightly salivating at the possibilities of delight in their contents. Strolling dreamily. I was Christmas shopping for a particular book, and about to take a trip and needed a book of my own for the airplane. The visual "Steinbeck," along with a picture with a PWD type dog were sitting on the shelf staring at me like the Geico dollars. "I am for you, " it called.

(Photo from Amazon)

This book is thoughtful, middleaged version of Kerouac's "On The Road." In addition to the marvelous writing, I found it fascinating to read about someone rediscovering a changed, more modern America - in 1960! His view was fresh, seing the plastic infused hotels and roadside diners with disdain of their anitseptic modernism. Same with the self serve (read oderless and tasteless) food kiosk in motels. Interstate highways were new. Mr. Steinbeck took his trip about the time I was born, so I was reading my unremembered history through the eyes of a veteran observer. Here is his description of autumn leaves as he drove into New Hampshire: "The climate changed quickly to cold and the trees burst into color, the reds and yellows you can't believe. It isn't only color but a glowing, as though the leaves gobbled the light of the autumn sun and then released it slowly. There's a quality of fire in these colors."

His writing is unpretentious, but deep, thoughtful and so observant of the characters and scenery he encounters. John Steinbeck's writings are most often the stuff of high school English classes - but now I can't wait to revisit or discover his other jewels.

2010-01-02T13:34:00.001-05:00

Not too much snow around this Christmas. Enough to let those in the family who are not regularly around snow enjoy its unique beauty. It's snowing again this weekend, all weekend. The lightly falling flakes, relative warmth, soft air and ethereal light are so invigorating. I can't stop admiring the view.

Last night was our first skiing of the season. It felt smooth and easy. The lights on the mountain, the snowfall, light fog off the snow, created such a glowing effect. It was like skiing in a star. Yes, I fell. On the last run of a quick, "warm up" trip. Hyperextended my knee and am hobbling now. But no serious injury.

Some more of the family went home yesterday and there is no more child laughter and energy.... Still, all is well and the new year seems bright with promise, and I wonder how you all are doing.

2009-12-27T22:12:00.000-05:00

I hope that everyone had a wonderful Christmas. Here, the puppy arrived a week before Christmas, along with my father and step-mother who drove her here from Florida. They stayed a few days, and then two of my three children and one of my granddaughters arrived from Florida and Montana. Holiday activities filled our days, from game playing around the table, to Christmas shopping. We cooked amazing meals and baked delectible cookies. My mother arrived, then my step-son, then my step-son's girlfriend. We Skyped with my daughter and granddaughter who stayed behind in Florida this year. The new puppy joined the joyous melee, playing keep away with anything she believed we did not want her to have. Happy liveliness.

The Season Begins

2009-12-16T21:38:00.000-05:00

Actually, by now this is old news. The snow of which I speak is more than a week old now. Another storm has swept the country from Arizona to Maine with deeper snow, then rain, and now a deep freeze to put the hard edge of ice on all the beautiful, gentle, white fluff. Here's the "before"...

When the snow is light (as in these photos of last week), the animals are more easily able to dig around in it to find their food. Now, the hard crusty ice pack is is not a thing to rejoice in, not a minor barrier to life. I've found deer tracks near the house, and patches of digging where they have been trying to find acorns. Sigh. I wish it wouldn't start the season like this, 'cause that ice layer will be there now until May.

Yet, my new puppy should be here by tomorrow, and the children and grandchildren who are able to come home this year will follow in a couple of days, and I was just in Florida to see the ones who can not. The world is singing for me, despite the ice.

New Puppy on the Way

2009-11-29T18:19:00.000-05:00

Between business at work, evenings at the gym, coordinating a trip to Florida to visit my granchildren, and time spent on the New Puppy, I've missed blogging and visiting. For this post, I'll describe the serendipitous, or maybe, spontaneous, or maybe jumping before one thinks, events that lead to me getting a New Puppy.

It started out on a random day, a Tuesday I think, during which I was struggling. I wanted to make something good happen. Yet there I was, lost in a sea of negativitiy. Without any planning or foresight or even any thought, I suddenly stopped what I was doing, opened my web browser and typed in "petfinder.com." I wanted to save something. Change a life. Rescue a loving heart from a cement floor, cage and likely death.

The page showed hundreds of thousands of animals needing adoption - where to begin? All I knew was not much - I "heard" that shelters in the South are likely to euthanize unadopted animals. I also knew that the shelters in this state did not. Okay, well my dogs are Portuguese Water Dogs, my dog of choice: no shedding, no smell, smart, and trainable working dogs. Not likely to find any of PWDs at a shelter thought, didn't President Obama already say that? Only 13 dogs of that breed left in the 70's, few even heard of them before the President's gift from Senator Kennedy, surely betweeen scarcity and new found popularity, what is the likelihood that one would have been so carelessly discarded in a shelter?

My search for a PWD resulted in about 14. Huh! More that I thought. As I looked at the sad pictures, like innocent line-ups, I saw that they were all mixed breed (not that there is anything WRONG with that!), or from California (too far!)... except wait a minute.... There was the worst line-up photo I had every seen. Just the top of a black head, one white toe peaking out from the body in a weird, floating photo angle. But, the flash on the cell phone that took the picture caught the unmistakeable sheen and wave of PWD hair on the top of that little girl puppy's head. It looked JUST like my dog.

(That's my dog - not the line-up photo of the dog on the shelter.) Sheesh, I could not believe how terrible that photo was. I mean really... these photos are posted to try to SELL these wonderful animals who so desperately need a home. So, what possible justification is there in posting a photo of the top of her head? It's bad enough that these dogs are black. Black Dog Syndrome is a known phenomenon to shelters. A local shelter even ran an ad before Thanksgiving for a "Black Friday Special," 50% off an adoption of a black animal, along with an explanation of Black Dog Syndrome as the reduced likelihood of a dog being adopted if it is black. They believe that it is because it is more difficult to see their faces and eyes - and that a black dog does not photograph well. Whatever the reason, fewer black dogs get adopted.

I called the shelter to ask about my top-of-the-head photo dog. The shelter was in Florida. The person who answered the phone could not give me a lot of information. Just a few facts and assumptions plugged into the computer: female; arrived October 12th; stray; believed to be 6 months old. The person did not know why she was "still there." I asked why? They just don't usually keep them that long, she said. They have so many dogs, she said. They must be saving her for the Pet Fair they were having in December, she said. She did not know the dog. The shelter was huge. It held 600 to 800 dogs, 50 or so new arrivals each day. You understand, she said. We just can't keep them all.

My father lives an hour or so from this shelter. I decided to call and ask him the huge favor of going to check this dog out. I just wanted him to see what she was like - after all, I could only see the hair on the top of her head. To his credit, he and my stepmother took this on as a project. They are animal lovers, too. It became a mission to save a dog, at least 1 dog of the tens of thousands who need love and a home. They drove there the next day and adopted the puppy on my behalf. They decided it was no question that we would rescue her. If I did not want her, then they would keep her. Aside from being skinny and smelly from a month of kennel living, she seemed to have a sweet personality. She had to be spayed, so my father had to leave her and come back a week later to bring her home. The shelter was exceptionally clean, and she was as well cared for as she could be.

Now she's been at my father's for a week. He's graciously offered to drive her from Florida to New Hampshire for me so she does not have to be crated in an airplane. He and my stepmother have bathed her, walked her miles, cleaned up puppy accidents, monitored her for chewing mishaps, and taken her to the vet's for lingering diarrhea. She's had hookworm and tapeworm, and they can't travel with her until she heals from the spaying and diarrhea. She's good natured and exhuberant and energetic and loves people and just wants to play.

So, my whim turned into a whole chain of events, which will soon culminate in a new addition to our family.

Saying Goodbye to the Geese

2009-11-05T22:22:00.000-05:00

The other morning on the way to work, another round of Canada Geese were in the cornfield, resting and eating what they could find before they continued on their journey. I look out for the geese every day. Somehow, they are a comfort to me. This day, I decided to stop and take a photo. Unfortunately, by the time I got my SD stick out of my laptop and into my camera and out of the back seat of my car, the geese had moved off, too wary of me to continue scavenging in the harvested cornfield. They retreat to the grass farther away from the road. So, the photos are not good, but if you click on the photo, it will fill the screen and give you a better view if you would like.

These geese are just passing through. They came from somewhere farther North, but even here is not the end, not their Winter's resting spot. Snow will likely cover this field in a month. There was, though, a small flock who make their Summer home just a mile closer to my home on this same road. Each year they arrive, perhaps a half dozen pairs. Not long after they arrive, dozens of small grey goslings follow behind their parents. I am always amazed at how quickly they lay and hatch their eggs. This flock of geese spend the whole Summer in ths spot just down the road, where a small pond nestles in the middle of a few acres of grassy field. In another amazingly brief amount of time, the goslings are indistinguishable from their parents. Then they fly off, and it's Fall.

Right now, I can not describe why I feel so strongly about these geese, or even what I feel. It's almost like all the rhythm and power of seasons and life are condensed into these migrating geese.

Since the photos were taken, I haven't seen any more geese. I think the last of them have passed on through, but I look forward to their return.

Not Like I Used to Be

2009-11-03T19:56:00.000-05:00

(Photo from Flickr by Tomcat)

It shattered all illusion. Illusion of fitness, that is. Smugness. Oh, I exercise almost daily, I said. I am fit. I'll just take this indoor cycling class because it's dark now after work. I can't go for a walk during the week until Spring. I guess I'll do a couple of these 45 minute cycling workouts for maintenance. Hah! I got so tired tonight at one point I almost fell off the bike - and I wasn't even working as hard as everybody else.

On top of that, I got nauseous from drinking Pine-Sol tasting water. Why, you might ask? Because this morning I pulled my old bike's water bottle off the cobwebbed bike in the garage. It looked kinda moldy, so I thought I would "sanitized" it by soaking it in water with a bit of disinfectant - Pine-Sol. I had no fear; I could rinse it out. Mistake. I think I poisoned myself.

I'm still coughing from the strain on my lungs. I used to do high impact aerobics regularly just, oh, 10 or 15 years ago... hmmmm. The first step back is the hardest.

Cowgirl Philosophy

2009-11-01T14:58:00.000-05:00

"The way I figure it, Heaven and Hell are right here on Earth. Heaven is living in your hopes and Hell is living in your fears. It's up to each individual which one he chooses." Bonanza Jellybean. Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, by Tom Robbins.

Yes, it Really Was That Kind of Fall Day

2009-10-25T17:55:00.000-04:00

These are the kind of days to that you want to last forever. I think this color blue only exists in the Fall. Of course, it is made that much more brilliant from the contrast of the yellow and orange of the leaves.

Even the delphinium leaves are turning.

2009-10-23T11:12:00.001-04:00

I'm trying a new gadget - a post from a text from my phone. May e it's my age, but typing with my thumbs, even with the super technologiclly ad vanced keypad on this thing, is not as easy as a keyboard. Note the typos.

First Snow

2009-10-20T20:20:00.000-04:00

This was Sunday. The first snow of the season. Always a noteable event. It gathered on the grass for a bit, then quietly melted. It still is resoundingly Fall, with half the leaves on the trees and half off, so that you are surrounded by an orange glow as you walk through the woods. And the smell! The wonderful unique dusky dead leaf smell. Dry. Woody. Earthy. Swooshy. Just makes you want to roll around onthe ground and bury yourself in a pile of leaves.

I wonder why no one has figured out how to record smell. We can take photos of what we see, and recordings of what we hear, but there is no way to capture smell. Mmmmmm. Wouldn't that be wonderful? What kind of smells would you record if you could?

Thank You

2009-10-18T09:04:00.001-04:00

Oh My Goddess has created a Goddess Award. Each Friday, she chooses several posts from that week which she considers noteworthy. Last week she chose my post about sailing. Thank you OMG! I am honored. Everyone, please check out her blog and the other award winners - quite wonderful and worthy of reading.

Saturday Treat

2009-10-17T17:09:00.000-04:00

I've already written about how much I love the promise of Saturday mornings. This Saturday, I got to tickle my sweet tooth and heat up the oven to address a very frosty morning. These scones were perfect - crispy, crumbly and moist. The recipie is from Montana Cooking, by Greg Patent (a gift from my son out at MSU).

Huckleberry Scones

1 1/2 c fresh or frozen huckleberries

2 c all-purpose flour, plus more for shaping

1/2 c, plus 1Tblsp sugar

2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

Grated zest of 1 lemon

1/2 c very cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1 c, plus 1 Tblsp heavy or whipping cream

1. Adjust oven rack to center position and preheat oven to 425. Line large baking sheet with parchment or silicone baking pan liner.

2. Pick over the huckleberries and discard stems. (I believe any berry would substitute - but I did not have any fresh berries on hand, so I used dried cherries.)

3. In large bowl whisk together flour, 1/2 c sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and lemon zest. Add the butter, and work into flour rapidly with your fingertips (I used a pastry blender. Don't work too much. Add the berries (or dried cherries), and toss to coat with dry material. Pour in 1 c. cream and fold until just barely combined.

4. Dust a work surface with flour, and scrape out the dough onto it. Knead the dough a few times just until it holds together (I did not - I believe this sort of batter is better the less you mix it up. I just shaped it). Shape dough into a disk about 7 inches in diameter and about 1 inch thick. Brush top of dough with remaining cream, and dust with remaining sugar. Cut dough into 8 wedges. With wide metal spatula, transfer dough wedges onto baking sheet, about 2 inches apart.

5. Bake for 18 to 23 minutes, until tops and bottoms of scones are golden brown. Cool 10 minutes before serving.

2009-10-14T11:12:00.001-04:00

First frost of the year last night.

Not so hard that the flowers winced,

They still bravely hold open their petals,

Unguarded.

The leaves fell, though,

And now the wind is herding them into drifts.

I hope they pile onto the the trusting blossoms,

And shield them from tonight's unsympathetic freeze.

Columbus Day Tribute

2009-10-12T11:02:00.000-04:00

You could see the wind approaching  by the patches of darkened ripples and tiny whitecaps on the lake surface. When it hit, the spray hit our faces and the boat heeled over until the whitecaps splashed into the cockpit. We flew across the water, seemingly in pace with the skittering clouds overhead. The dogs slid against the sides of the cockpit. The sound of scrabbling played a duet with the windsounds. There was no purchase for their lenghty claws in the smooth fiberglass. I took to bracing them with my legs and arms when I saw the wind approaching. They shivered.

At the first strong heel, one of the dogs went overboard. He was just behind my back, so I did not see what happened, though it felt he just decided to jump. The dogs are good swimmers, so I was not too worried, but I did not want him to be frightened.

We went into our first "man overboard" drill. Circle back. No, that doesn't work because the dog kept swimming towards a moving target and we both end up circling each other.   At last, the circling worked moderately well because the boat eventually slowed to stop as we were facing the wind. We got the dog back into the boat wthin minutes. We knew, though, that we need to get much better at the 'man overboard' maneuver. We should have simply turned to the wind and dropped the sails; one of us at the tiller and one scrambling foreward to untie the main halyard. Just stoppped. Forget circling back - that's how one retreives a downed waterskier. Next time we'll do better, kowning of course, there will be a next time. I put on my lifejacket. For the first time ever I think, John put on his, too. I am going to order two doggy life preservers.

We were the only sailboat we could see from this part of the lake. Pity. What a day for it! The surrounding hills and mountains were vibrating with "peak" autumn display. At Wiers Beach, hundreds of tourists lined up for the Mount Washington ("scenic boat tours") and the Winnipesaukee Scenic Railroad. But few dared the lake on their own. I guess the people who owned boats on the lake had already packed up for the season. How shortsighted.  Though at an air tempurature high of 55 degrees F, and water tempurature at just under 60 degrees F at the surface, I would not go swimming for fun, the day was still a gift to experience. Don't they realize that in a few short months this lake will be so frozen people will drive trucks across it? Where is the lust for discovery and new challenges that stirred Christopher Columbus?

Something Else

2009-10-09T11:19:00.000-04:00

I am supposed to be doing something else right now. Late morning of the Friday before a long weekend. Gray overcast, rain coming, but gorgeous sunny weather expected for my next three days off. Orange, yellow and crimson hues are popping in the scenery, which just makes that sky look more blue (except today).

The only way I earn money is if I work. If I sit and tell my thoughts here, I am not earning. That's what I am supposed to be doing. But I just want to sit and have a cup of coffee and chat with you all. I want to read your words, write back, talk things out. I feel so full of unfinished thoughts of life, pursuit of happiness, meaning, beauty. Things too big to capture in my small mind. Talking helps sort it out. Or not talking, and looking out the window at the colors.

Precious Daylight

2009-10-07T20:30:00.001-04:00

I have been despairing at the shortening daylight. I rush out the door at the end of work. I make sure I am parked at the end of the driveway so no one is blocking me in. When I get home, I run upstairs to get changed, and right back out the door with the dogs to get outside for a walk before the sun goes down. My daughter suggested I flex my time - why not switch my hours around? Great idea.

So, starting today until Daylight Savings Time ends at the end of the month, I shifted my day at least a half hour earlier. Yippee, I was off to the fields to enjoy the sunshine and changing leaves.

I love the color

of these berries, and the ladybug.

The most

vivid red I've seen so far this Fall.

I loved the way

the setting sun made the ferns glow. Thank you, Daughter, for the afternoon sunlit walk.

On Life

2009-10-05T21:43:00.001-04:00

Precious Perfect Creation II appeared in my life September 16th at 10:45 am. Even now I cry. Maybe it's the sunset happening as I write. A few days after she was born, someone asked me how I was. I said only, "overwhelmed." My listeners seemed surprised. I think they thought I meant in the negative sense, as if I were tired. Oh my, no, not that.

I believe that life feels more beautiful and precious and fragile and fleeting as we get older. So the arrival of this new life feels intense. First, there is joy to the 4th power. I have two daughters who each now have a daughter. When one's daughter gives birth one feels the joy of your own child's experience, knowing that it is the happiest of her life. Your heart is full to bursting with joy for her. On top of that, one feels the joy of your own grandchild being born. That's cartwheeling joy for yourself. On top of that, there is the this new person experiencing the beginning of her life, seeing her mother's and father's face for the first time and being held in their arms. Multi-tiered x multi-person joy. You see what I mean?

Then there is the all the worry and excitement for each of their futures. From the perspective of age, I am achingly aware of the possible hardships, accomplishments, hurts, and laughter ... all that damn LIFE ahead of them. It's so big it hurts. I am overwhelmed.

The Fair

2009-09-13T21:06:00.013-04:00

Labor Day means The Fair in my town. Yes, I know that was LAST weekend - I am behind. I've been to The Fair nearly every year of the 28 years I have lived here, yet I do not think I have ever taken any pictures. So this year I hauled the camera along. I have just uploaded the photos to my computer, and some I just had to share. This is my favorite: This ox was massive and stunning. I believe he was over 6 feet high at the shoulder, and had a deep chest and neck. He stood very still, and patiently assessed the many people passing by. He seemed to possess a true dignity. There were sheep, and pigs, rabbits and mountain lions (sadly in a cage). The 4-Hers groomed and showed their animals, and food stands dressed up in their gaudy advertising. I can't believe it's September already!

Time on Julie & Julia

2009-08-27T21:05:00.002-04:00

I read a thoughtful review of the movie "Julie & Julia" in Time magazine the other night. The review was written by Mary Pols. The writer was somewhat harsh to writers of lesser talents, but true and honest. She was describing the abilities of Julie Powell, as well as the movie's portrayal of her as driven by the desire to compete with her friends and obtain recognition, as compared with the success of Julia Child, which was driven by her inner fountain of talent and joy in what she did. Ms. Pols writes: "There are memoirists like Child who write about what made them famous, or infamous. There are unremarkable people who write about a remarkable thing that happened to them. And then there is the 21st century memoirist, who makes him- or herself interesting in order to write about it, usually through a time-centric gimmick, like spending a few months at, say, an ashram." Ouch! Has anyone read Julie Powell's book and felt the same? Or perhaps, Elizabeth Gilbert's book?

2009-08-19T20:45:00.004-04:00

I am back from my trip to Florida for my daughter's baby shower, feeling ripe from the infusion of love. I got the opportunity to see all of my children together, happy, and laughingly happy to be with each other. I got to be loose and silly and singy with my granddaughter, and feel the elbows and heels of my granddaughter to be. I got to meet warm and generous friends. What a great trip!

I even got to sink into the Florida August - similar to New Hampshire Augus - yet more vibrant and moist. That joint-loosening, hair dampening, skin glistening, languorous, sensuous heat. Puddles from passing thundershowers steaming in the sun. Brilliant bright sunlight and colors, and icy air conditioning and tile floors cold on the soles of your feet. That was my Florida this trip. I'll ask my kids if it is okay with them to publish a picture of the three of them together in these days.

Goodbyes

2009-08-13T12:31:00.003-04:00

Beau continued to go downhill during the night. We were able to get him to the vet's first thing this morning and release him from his pain. Goodbye Beau.

The other Journey

2009-08-12T21:19:00.004-04:00

Our Golden Retriever, the one with lymphoma, is going downhill more quickly than I had anticipated. It has been a few weeks of unexpected emotion. We are animal lovers, I would say, yet had not elevated the importance of our pets beyond deep fondness, I guess love, appreciation, protectiveness, and wish to take good care of them and give them good lives. Beau was the largest example of that, as our adopted, rescue dog. I've described our challenges with him, I think, along with my concern that he would possibly hurt a child somewhere along the way (he was aggressive towards small children) if we were not careful. Then he was diagnosed with this cancer. Another dog of ours has been living with cancer for nearly two years, and is fine (another story). Perhaps I was in denial. But when Beau got sicker so fast, I was very impacted by his decline. Seeing him weak and wobbly when just a week, even a few days ago, he was running around, stealing the stick away from my dog as usual, brought the fragility of life right to my face. He is a very joyful dog and seemed to love his life here. I wish I had taken a picture of him lying on the floatie in the pool, keeping cool in the hot afternoon. It was just this past Saturday, and tonight he can not quite stand. I am crushed that he is losing his happy existence; he reminds me that death is inevitable even for me. Tonight when I got home from work, he seemed fairly energetic. We got a ball and headed outside to see if he could run after it a bit. I tossed the ball just behind him, so he would not have far to go. But, Lisbon, the jealous alpha dog, came out of nowhere and attacked him, biting him over and over. I finally got Lisbon off of Beau, and closed him into the house. I got Beau up on his feet, gave him the ball, and tried to soothe him over. He suddenly got a strange look in one eye - it is hard to describe - like it disconnected from him. I do not mean it separated physically, I mean it did not seem to coordinate with him. Then he stopped walking, turned down his head, started shaking all over, and crumbled down to the ground. (Sigh) So, here we are, trying to do what we can to make him feel better: hand feeding him some food (he was interested), water, carrying him outside to pee, pain meds, and carrying him upstairs and onto the bed. I do not understand. He has a shallow bite wound, but no physical injury from the fight that would cause this. I am guessing that he was already so physically compromised by his illness, that the attack was very stressful to his body. Emotionally, I was so distraught at seeing him attacked like that, I felt ill myself. sick at his suffering; sick at the apparent cruelty; sick with anger. The vehemence of my anger at the dog who attacked him was so strong it surprised me (he's just a dog, after all - he did not understand). If I had something heavy within my reach at the time, I may have even hurt him, I was so angry. Where did that come from? So, all of this longer than really necessary story is about ... life, and its loss, the effect a creature can have on me, how I am more susceptible to it than I thought (Beau has really been a pain the neck at times). Also, I have been extremely fortunate in my life in that I have not suffered any significant losses. So, I feel this. I recognize that this is a dog, who would have died several years ago if we had not adopted him, whom I myself had considered putting down when he nearly attacked my infant granddaughter. I know others have suffered from MUCH more significant, soul crushing, life altering losses. That is not this. Yet, I feel this. This creature who has endured suffering at the hands of his former owner, and possessed his own grace and sweetness despite it, has given a lot of himself in the few years we have had him. He deserves acknowledgement. He will be missed.

On becoming...

2009-08-11T20:53:00.006-04:00

...a sailor. Even claiming it here seems more than I deserve, a little self aggrandizing. But, I guess if I am in a sailboat and somehow or other maneuvering it through the water and actually getting from one place to another, then I am.

(I was not able to quite capture the serene mountain setting of this lake - I will keep trying.)

I also like the "becoming" part. Isn't it hopeful? And true. We are all becoming one thing or another. We are can not be static. If nothing else, then we are becoming decrepit, right? But, I love knowing that I am becoming ... smarter, wiser, stronger and am acquiring skills and experience in more and more things. That's what new experiences give you.

(Posing next to our little boat while the Mount Washington pulls out of the dock behind me.)

Update

2009-08-11T13:25:00.002-04:00

FIRST - I must give credit for the photo leading my last post. I received several compliments, thank you, but it was taken by my daughter. I'm sorry that I had not noted it in my post. SECOND - In a few days I will be off to see said daughter and pictured granddaughter, AND my other daughter and granddaughter to be (8 months pregnant) for her baby shower. Yippeee! Heavy workload here, as well as weekend days taken sailing on our little boat. Photos and more in a bit....

Do unto others...

2009-08-04T21:06:00.004-04:00

I have been thinking quite a bit lately about the way people treat each other, and the way I want to treat other people. Most of me, or the spiritual part of me, believes in a generous approach to people. I believe in idea that there is some measure of good in everyone, and as Randy Pausch said, if you are patient, you will find it. I believe in maintaining an openly, expectant happiness to discover the humanness of each person I meet, like the Dalai Lama. Even aspire to love my neighbor, as Jesus taught.

I know that the world is so full of kindness, altruism, sacrifice for others, heroics. There is such power in what we can do for others and the world!

On the other hand...oh, there are so many other hands. People can be real jerks, and worse. In my line of work, I see people selfishly hurting others regularly, people hurting children, too. I see smirks of pleasure and gloating at another's pain, meanness, dishonesty. I just want to "call 'em like I see 'em" and dismiss that human being, that life. No patience; no understanding; no acceptance. I want to assign consequence for the darkness that humans can spread on to others.

Just on Monday, I dealt with one person taking a child from the other parent through the use of mistatements to authorities - and watch the vicious giggles at the anguish he caused. The same day I dealth with a sexual assault on an eight year old daughter. More the same day a person maliciously withholding money owed to another, while they fall more and more ill with stress and poverty. All that pain purposefully, even gleefully inflicted from "human" to human. My resolve to look for the good crumbles.

I should know that life, lives, being human after all, is just not that black and white. Yet, I still struggle at reconciling the two perspectives. I don't know why. What are your thoughts?

And why the picture above? It doesn't really have anything to do with this topic, except way down inside me. The meaning of life in some way always comes down to one's children and grandchildren. Here is my granddaughter, joyously and unselfconsciously skipping through the maze of her life towards her future.

Saturdays

2009-07-25T13:06:00.006-04:00

Aren't Saturdays just the BEST day of the week? I am in love with the day from the first moment I open my eyes and its realization sprinkles on me like a fine waterfall. I do not have to go to work. It is a day to set aside "routine" and "required." I have a all the opportunity and possibilities of a day opening ahead of me like a light filled forest path. I can do whatever I want. Just now, typing on my computer in my sunroom, a hummingbird fed off the Bee Balm just outside the window. But, my camera was just out of reach. I had to halfway get up to get my fingers around the strap, and I scared it off. Here are the flowers it just visited. There is the old sailboat my husband has just restored. See, just there through the sunroom door? We were going to head out to Lake Winnipesaukee this morning, the biggest lake in the State. The sailboat is not quite ready yet, though. There are a lot of fittings, lines, sheets, etc. on a sail boat, I guess. The engine is not running right yet, either. Soon! My husband is working diligently. We are both looking forward to exploring a new area and sailing on our own little craft. I am excited to practice my new found sailing abilities. Yet, since this is SATURDAY - I don't mind. Instead, I get to write, visit, cook, bake, swim, and clean all of the mud out of my bed and bedroom floor from the dogs.

2009-07-25T10:08:00.002-04:00

I have been honored by Angela by a new award. Thank you. Her blog is graced with the touch of an artist, combined with honest and thought provoking words, and a love of animals.

Pets

2009-07-21T20:15:00.009-04:00

This week we received news that pet owners everywhere ultimately hear, especially with older dogs - a likely fatal illness has developed. Our Golden Retriever, Beau, suddenly exhibited symptoms of lymphoma. These were taken the morning he suddenly started acting very sick, lethargic and dull, the day he went to the vets. One of the other dogs, the "pack leader," was licking Beau's eyes (he frequently does this). Immediately after starting Prednizone treatment, Beau felt much better. But, now, after a few more days, he is acting sick again, didn't keep down his dinner. Will be calling the vet tomorrow. Pets hold very special places in our lives, yet they live such a short time compared to us, we end up loving and saying goodbye to so many. A cycle of joy and grief. Beau came to our little dog family of two Portuguese Water Dogs. His former owner kept him chained outside, behind the garage, we think at least most of the time, if not all the time: night; day; summer; winter. We believe he was beaten. His health was badly neglected. He had ulcerated ear infections, about 100 ticks, Lyme's disease, and heartworm. He also had food aggression. I found this behavior problem one night soon after we got him when he was licking his food dish under a cabinet and I reached down to pull it out for him and was attacked. I still have the scar on my arm. But Beau is also very sweet. After all the terrible experiences he must have experienced, his love for people is extraordinary(NOT, however, children). He craves being physically close and being touched. He must have suffered in loneliness being chained alone. Now, he loves to lounge in our little pool on a "floatie," lie on his back on our bed between us in the morning, get his belly rubbed while he plays with a tennis ball. Do you have a pet story to tell?

Do we have Free Will?

2009-07-15T21:52:00.004-04:00

I watched the film “Knowing” last night, and actually the night before as well. Although I do not feel it was a good movie, it has got me thinking. While mostly I am just trying to figure it out (the pieces do not seem to fit together), the smarter side of me is letting go of the specific nonsensical parts of the movie, and consider the bigger question presented: determinism vs. randomness. Is there a purpose to our lives and events, or is it all a convergence of a random set of accidental occurrences? And, if one believes in determinism, then who or what is making that determination?

This movie certainly muddles the answer to that question – or, opens us up to wider possibilities. This movie seems to suggest that it is not God! “Knowing” begins with the protagonist depressed over the idea that there is no purpose to our lives, yet in the end is reassured that aliens have whispered frightening catastrophic events to a disturb a child for her entire life, so that that child can warn someone in the future… so that they can do nothing about it? Roger Ebert, film critic for the Chicago Sun Times wrote a blog entry in which he explored these theories much more deeply. He also included You Tube clips of several philosophers discussing determinism and free will. They seem to find a convergence. Certainly, some sort of combination of these opposite theories is the only palatable choice for us. Either determinism or randomness in its absolute leaves me depressed and unsatisfied. Their absolutes leave no purpose for our lives, and that is not the way I want to live. The other reasons I chose to watch the movie again on consecutive nights were not so high minded. First, the little girl in the movie looks EXACTLY like my granddaughter! I was riveted, and missed my little grandbaby badly. Second, it was pay per view and I was still within the 24 hour window of viewing time! So life comes right down to the little things, doesn't it. And, that may be all the purpose I need.

2009-07-13T21:23:00.002-04:00

The magic about wildflowers and perennials, I think, lies in the variety in which they bloom. The yard is ever changing. It's almost like fireworks in very slow motion. It's life. It's also a lesson. We all have our time to bloom.

Thank You

2009-07-12T19:32:00.005-04:00

Thank you Lianne from At My Kitchen Table for your kindness and recognition.

As I understand the rules, I am to pass this along to 5 other lovely blogs. Please check out the following special people and their places:

From The Desk Of Bee Drunken

Southern Cross - Crux

2009-07-06T09:55:00.005-04:00

Travel. After my trip, I've been going through various emotions about my trip and travelling, unfinished thoughts sloshing loosely around in my head. I've had a blank page open on my computer for a day or two. I hoped if I left it open while I worked, over time I could make those thoughts concrete and cohesive. Just now, before I opened this page to write tonight, I stopped by some friends' blogs to read and say hello. Sallymandy had four wonderfully thoughtful quotes about travel.

The best I can explain it, is that travel both expands you and brings you closer. It's dizzying in its juxtaposition. New people, sights, smells, experience,s tastes, discoveries. These new experiences add layers: memories; knowledge; awareness; interest; viewpoints; culture; tolerance; understanding; curiosity.

I feel that with travel I get closer to understanding myself, my purpose in the world, my potential, my abilities and limitations, prejudices, and preferences . What does travel mean to you?

The picture at the beginning of this post is the constellation Crux, or Southern Cross. Some of you can view this every night. Some of us have gone a lifetime without a glimpse. One of my favorite songs of all time is Stephen Stills' Southern Cross. "When you see the Southern Cross for the first time, you understand now why you came this way." I believed the fallacy that one can only see the Souther Cross from the Southern hemisphere, so I had absolutely no expectation of seeing it when I was in BVI (the most Southern place I have every been). Yet, one early evening on our trip, I happen to glance at the sky just after sunset as we left a restaurant. I knew it immediately! It took my breath away.

The constellation was low on the horizon, directly South. It slipped out of sight too quickly, and was not visible most of the night. I looked for it every night thereafter, but every evening after that surprise glimpse, clouds covered the Southern sky during the brief time after sunset it would have been visible.

Now, I was not sure that what I saw was the Southern Cross. I had never even seen a picture of it, and as I said, I believed what I had always heard, "only in the Southern hemisphere." After all, what I saw was just a set of 4 stars in a kite shape. Was that a cross? I mentioned my discovery to a couple we met. "Oh, no," they said with certainty. "You can only see the Southern Cross...." They smiled a little at my naivite. But I knew I was right.

The Baths

2009-07-05T16:21:00.009-04:00

On another day of our excursion we visited The Baths on Virgin Gourda.

This is a national park in which piles of boulders lay heaped upon one another. One can crawl under and over, as much as you dare. They tumble into the sea, so that as you make your way over and under stone, you come across pockets of water, like jewels in the mud. Some are protected and calm, others churning with waves.

The informational sign at the park says that these are granite boulders which had been encased in lava, perhaps even formed in the lava. The softer lava was worn away, leaving the hard granite.

Scampering about these rocks was like being on a treasure hunt. The treasure was what we could see: the striking formations; the colors; the cool(er) air. Rounded granite rock also felt very homey, much like our worn, rocky New England coastline.

Snorkeling

2009-07-02T19:34:00.005-04:00

Along this island's coast there were caves inviting exploration. We picked up a day mooring and jumped into the water for our first snorkeling excursion of our trip. It was fun to follow the fish into the caves. This is Pelican Island. I could envision sailors from hundreds of years ago taking their skiffs in to explore, their massive wooden sailing ships anchored nearby. Was treasure ever hidden here? It is known that treasure was hidden at least somewhere on these islands. The local literature says that millions of dollars worth of treasure was found in a cave on nearby Norman Island, hidden there by pirates. On the other side of this tiny island, Saba Rock, was a wonderful reef. You can see, just there, looking towards that sunset, where the water turns dark, is the edge of the reef. We took the dinghy out there, and took a look. It's open ocean from there. Only little Anegada between us and Africa. I'll admit I felt exposed out there on that reef. I am a child of the Jaws generation, after all. It's just not good when you are out there, floating on the edge of the black abyss of open ocean and the Jaws theme suddenly comes into your head. Dah dum.... I had to concentrate on counting the different species fish I could see. In truth, the beauty was so spectacular that it was difficult to tear oneself away. I wanted just to float there, looking and looking, to discover the well camouflaged, to remember the the rest of my life. Just to note - I am home now, back from my trip. It took 4 days to stop feeling as though I was rocking. I am writing to capture some special moments and memories, and share a laugh.

The Begining

2009-07-01T21:40:00.006-04:00

My camera was unused to the humidity. Upon its first release from the luggage, it fogged in response as if it was not ready to begin. But we were! The anticipation to begin, to take one of those boats and head out to the sea and adventure was incredible. waiting excruciating. After we had travelled an entire day, we had to sleep in a hotel over looking the boats, teasing. You can't sail on the boat at night, and you can't get on the boat until after the mandatory briefing. They would not even tell us which one was going to be our adventure vessel, our Black Pearl, for the week until noon, the appointed time. 32 hours after leaving home, we finally got underway. Within an hour or so, I was losing my lunch over the side of the boat.....

We're OFF!

2009-06-17T18:46:00.004-04:00

Can you see me? Just there behind the wheel? Well, not YET, but by Friday that will be me! Tomorrow we'll be on our way to Tortoal, BVI for a week of sailing on a sailboat Just Like This! We'll be bareboating, which means we rent the boat but sail it ourselves.

This is one of our steps in our choice to spend an extended period of time living on boat (months, years?) I figured that if I am going to sell my house, leave behind my practice and live a nomad's life aboard a sailboat, I'd better see if I actually like spending my nights at sea (or at least at anchor in a sheltered cove of a Caribbean island).

I hope to take a lot of pictures, but won't be able to post until I return. I tried to obtain a waterproof, clear bag so I could take underwater photos. Unfortunately, the "large" waterproof bag I ordered which purported to be big enough to fit a 35mm camera - isn't. So, perhaps I'll pick up a disposable underwater camera while there.

Yet, there should be a lot of above water shots from our kayak or hiking jaunts. Wow - This is going to be so cool!

I hope everyone has a very good week.

Coyote

2009-06-15T21:47:00.002-04:00

Photo by Greg Cope (Flickr)

On our walk the other morning, I came across a fellow like the one above, a coyote. He or she was just trotting along, perpendicular to our path. It did not notice the dogs, and the dogs did not notice it. Then it noticed us, started off for a few yards, and then sat down to watch, just like above.

It can be such a startling, yet moving experience to see wildlife like that. We who live here know that coyotes live around here - a lot of animals live around here, and walk through our yards at night. Yet they are rarely seen. Mysterious, magical. But, this time, I got to see one.

More Beauty

2009-06-09T21:39:00.005-04:00

These are some of the wonders in my yard, That gave rise yesterday to my teary sense that the beauty that surrounds me is so strong that feel I could burst. Not that it's all about flowers - not at all. It's about the vibrancy of life, its fragility, its impermanence. But, this place....

There's so much Beauty

2009-06-07T13:58:00.008-04:00

These days here are so beautiful, it is almost painful. Everything is so green and lush and full. Flowers are everywhere, light fills the day for so many hours, birds never stop signing. The blue of the sky is vibrant. Bees, butterflies, hummingbirds. The Canada Geese on the pond I see every day on the way to work trail their fluffy ducklings along behind as they waddle. Everyday I try to hold on so tight. It hurts.

Yet, I am reminded of the closing lines from the movie, American Beauty. "It's hard to stay mad, when there is so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I am seeing it all at once, and it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that is about to burst." (I am not yet able to let it go and let it flow through me - next lines.) As I listen to this movie clip now, tears are in my eyes.

Though this photo was taken a month ago, this is another place that usually makes me feel that wash-over-your-body sense of the world being so beautiful. (Where are the flowers you say? They are in my yard!) This is a view from our town's public library looking out over althletic fields. The town purchased this farmland a dozen years ago or so, and built a beautiful, Adirondack style library looking over these fields, facing West to the sunset. I have spent many happy late afternoons watching my children play soccer and the setting sun.

You may be saying, well, in the world's scheme of beautiful places, this is far from outstanding. I know, and agree. It's just a place the somehow makes me swell with that feeling, even though it is not spectacular. Maybe because it is simpler than spectacular. Maybe because it is just a place in my town, just a place to pick up and drop off library books, swoosh down slides with my granddaughter, watch kids playing their games. Maybe it is the expanse of sky.

This screened porch of the library has rockers facing the same view. And this gorgeous barn is to the side. And on the other side of the barn, a playground which is now a favorite for my granddaughter when she comes to visit in the warmer months.

This life...our lives...our children...our grandchildren. It's so beautiful, it's too much.

Thoughts for Others

2009-06-05T21:13:00.003-04:00

My assistant's husband had a major heart attack last night. She said that the doctors said that if he had waited a second longer to call 911, he would have died. And, as it is, he had immediate surgery and is not safe yet. He is 45. My thoughts and prayers are with them both.

Strength of Women

2009-06-04T21:44:00.002-04:00

I’ve been considering what it means to have strength as a woman. Obviously, I believe that there is a particular strength that women have. Yet, the (now) old fashioned theme of feminism from the 60’s and 70’s has become a relic of an older generation (yes, mine). “I am woman, hear me roar” is just so… unnecessarily zealous, it defeats its purpose. When you possess real power or strength, you do not need to proclaim it so loudly. And if you do, the strident proclamation belies itself. Expression of strength lies in the strength itself. One should not talk about being capable: be capable. One should not talk about being independent: be independent. One should not talk about being a leader: lead. I recently saw an example of my idea of the expression of strength in women. Time Magazine recently named is 100 of the world’s most influential people. One of them was France’s Finance Minister, Christine Lagarde. Her write up is by the US Secretary of the Treasury, Timothy Geithner. He wrote: “As president of the New York Fed and as Treasury Secretary, I’ve met Largarde a number of times. In each encounter, her lightning-quick wit, genuine warmth and ability to bridge divides while remaining fiercely loyalty to French Interests have been a source of admiration.” I also saw Lagarde on The Daily Show during the weeks after President Obama’s inauguration when the world’s financial markets were near collapse. She graced the screen with such calm reassurance and intelligence, I thought then that she was the epitome of the strength of women. Watching her one could believe that the all those gigantic and risky financial decisions were being made by people who knew what they were doing and would carry the world through to safety. Watching her one could feel that women can have that greatness about them formerly only felt about men.

Florida Adventure

2009-05-29T18:59:00.013-04:00

I had a wonderful time in Florida. I got to spend time with 2 out of my 3 children and my granddaughter. They are talented and wonderful and I admire them so much. My daughter graduated from college, Florida Atlantic University, with honors. Congratulations!

In addition to the beach, we headed to Miami to see Vizcaya Museum and Gardens. This is a mansion built from 1914 to 1916 by the head of International Harvester, James Deering. He built it to look like a 400 year old Italian estate that had been renovated over generations. So, he created overlapping historical periods with antiques and specialized craftsmen. At the same time, the technology was state of the art, with central heating, refrigeration, butler call system, and a telephone.

I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane

2009-05-14T13:28:00.003-04:00

I'm off tomorrow night to visit my girls in Florida: two daughters, granddaughter and granddaughter on the way (eta Sept 26th). I can't wait to see them. This is the view of the beach very close to where one of them lives, and the other not far away. I believe this is also one of the places where the recent movie Marley & Me was shot.

In the meantime, I my head and heart are full from several provocative posts from you all. Ideas about art, self expression, womanhood, strength of identity and altruism are working away inside me. Unfortunately right now, it's just a confusing mess and nothing worth sharing. I hope to come up with worthwhile writings, or at least responses to your thoughtful challenges.

Flowers and Blue Skies

2009-05-13T10:33:00.004-04:00

Maybe it's been worth the wait. At least, the dearth of color and life enables me to first appreciate subtle colors of white, greys and browns. Then, when the flowers burst forth under the newly gifted warmth and light - it can take your breath away.

These are apple and crabapple trees in my yard. The air is now filled with the scent of these blossoms, as well as the lilac. The sky is perfectly blue, 60 - 70 F during the day, 40s at night. Looonnnggg exhale.

A Little Charmer

2009-05-12T20:35:00.008-04:00

The other day I watched this unassuming movie. I had actually received it from Netflix, and as usually happens, I could not recall why I had chosen to place it in my queue or what it was about. So, without knowing whether it was a suspense thriller or comedy, I slipped it into the player, and was charmed. It is very funny and well acted. While the ending is not surprising, it is still well worth watching.

Discovered Signs

2009-05-07T20:27:00.008-04:00

I had to travel for work today. I decided to take the back way to see what I could see. I thought this was the most interesting road name I've ever seen. There must be a story! Unfortunately, so far my Internet searches have not given me any clues.

Across the street from Devil Steps Road is an historic marker:

If you click on the picture, it will blow up large enough to easily read the sign. Molly Stark was the wife of a Revolutionary War general, and this house served as a hospital during the war. Molly herself was made famous by her husband's remark before a battle in Vermont, "There are the Redcoats," was his battle cry just prior to the battle that morning, "and they are ours, or this night Molly Stark sleeps a widow."

The American's won that significant battle which is believed to have led to the surrender of the British general Burgoyne in Saratoga, New York two months later. It is believed that General Stark is responsible for New Hampshire's state motto: "Live Free Or Die."

Does This Look Like the Face of a Thief?

2009-05-06T20:50:00.003-04:00

Last night, as I lay cozily in my bed, feeling oh so wonderfully comfortable and sleepy, at JUST that perfect moment when you feel yourself teetering on the tipping point between awake and asleep, with my limbs loose and my pillow perfectly cradling my head - I heard it. Thud. Crinkle. Rattle. Crash.

It was the sound of my dog in the kitchen. Prowling. I heard a dish being pulled from the sink and dropped to the ground. I heard her paws up on the counter and silverware being knocked off. Now all of this did not bother me until I remembered that I had put a loaf of bread on the counter to so that I would remember to take it to work in the morning for lunches.

Just at that time, I heard the crinkle crinkle of plastic and I knew that she had gotten the bread. I jumped out of bed and ran downstair after her. She's a black dog in the dark, so I can't see her, but I can hear the bread wrapper. As I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn to the dark kitchen, I heard the dog door flap - she escaped outside with the bread.

The dog door opens to a fenced in area of the yard that can also be accessed by gates for those who can't fit through the dog door. In the winter, those gates are blocked by ice and snow, so when the dogs, my dog, have a stolen treasure that they don't want us to take from them, they are free and clear once they get out of the dog door. There is nothing we can do.

But now, the snow is gone and the gates are free, so I ran out the door and through the gate in my night clothes and got my loaf of bread.

Gifts to Pass Forward

2009-05-06T20:28:00.004-04:00

Thank you!

From Aglio, Olio & Peperoncino and Lizzy Frizzfrock

I understand that this recognition is to be passed on to 15 good looking new blogs. I would like to revisit this in a few days so that I may have some time to consider.

Monday Morning Commute

2009-05-04T19:46:00.004-04:00

For fun, I've started to take my camera with me in my car. I decided take a few photos along the way. This time I only snapped a quick two. More another time.

The view this morning on my way in to work.

I took a quick shot at a stop light around the corner from my office. I've always thought the color of this church was interesting, and unusual for this area.

2009-05-03T15:23:00.006-04:00

Here it is, the season we've been longing for for more than six months now. It's the outdoor season. It's when we can go outside and relax (vs. shiver with parka, mittens, scarf and hat while we wait for the dogs to do their business so we can get back inside where it's warm for goodness sake).

We have our favorite lawn ornament - our ugly pool. In the past we have planned to install a real pool, the kind that is dug in the ground with excavation equipment like a pond, with polite and upscale flagstone paving its "banks," and charming patio furniture and accessories from Pottery Barn completing the scene. But, we've decided we are going to abandon the land in a few years, and spend out time on a sailboat. So, our old, mouse chewed, ugly-as-sin "Sofpool" went back up in the yard this weekend instead. It's our "sacrifice." But, we actually love the old girl and we and the dogs have enjoyed a lot of fun and games in her. She doesn't have to be pretty or to add joy to our lives.

We hauled the old firepit back out, too. Out from under a tree that fell across it in the ice storm of December that left most of the state without electricity for weeks. John chainsawed the downed tree into manageable parts and hammered metal firepit back into shape. Here it is, a blaze with the branches and debris of the yard again felled from the storm. The fire keeps us warm as the sun sets and the air chills, and the smoke keeps away the black flies that otherwise swarm around our heads.

I wish I could share the sound of the birds in Spring, as I sit in my gazebo in the early weekend mornings, crisp air, warm coffee mug in my hands. We marvel, really, nearly every day it is warm enough to sit outside, that we can. Sit. Still. Listen. Calm. Relax. Feel the air-that-is-warm-enough-to-stay-in. This is the season. The season we can go outdoors.

Corrective Post

2009-04-30T10:37:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I spewed out all my frustrations onto this startled page, and posted it. I had a wonderfully supportive comment from Rosaria, thank you. But, it's been bothering me to leave all that anger and negativity out there. It does not need to go outward from me (nor inward either, for that matter, but that's another story). So, it's gone. Instead I want to pose the bigger questions: Does the world operate with less integrity these days? Has it always been the same? Do I also have "integrity deficit disorder?" And, most importantly, what can I do to make a difference?

To the Ocean

2009-04-27T21:35:00.011-04:00

FIRST - Happy Birthday to my youngest child, my son. You are 21 today, and I am so proud of the man you have become. _______________________

Yesterday we took and adventure day to the ocean. New Hampshire has but 20 miles of coastline. Yesterday I neeeded to see it. I needed the air, open view, rythmn of water. I've been at The End Of My Rope, and needed the vastness of sea and sky to reset. I had a great time looking and looking, from the endless horizon to the tiny periwinkles in a tidal pool.

2009-04-26T22:05:00.002-04:00

Will be back soon. My computer died on Friday - rather the light in the monitor dimmed to unuseable. I've been trying to get it's replacement since. I spent quite a bit of time driving around to get the one I wanted. I think the only one in the entire state was in Seabrook! JUST got home with it. Still setting it up - but it's time to go to bed. I missed everyone this weekend!

Thoughtful Poetry

2009-04-21T21:26:00.006-04:00

This is what my yoga instructor read in class this evening:

Go in and in.

Be the space,

between two cells,

the vast, resounding silence in which

the spirit dwells.

Be sugar dissolving

on the tongue of life.

Dive in and in

as deep as you can dive.

Be infinite, ecstatic truth.

Be love conceived and born in union.

Be exactly what you seek,

the Beloved, singing Yes,

Tasting Yes, embracing Yes,

until there is only esssence;

the All of Everything

expressing through you

as you. Go in and in

and turn away from

nothing that you find.

~~Danna Faulds

From her book of poetry

Go In and In

Random Thoughts Monday

2009-04-20T11:58:00.008-04:00

I love this tree in my backyard. Even though its top half broke off, it found another way to keep growing. It persevered. Outside of the picture, it continues straight and tall for many feetabove the other's nearby. I went back to take the photos of those stone walls I wrote of earlier. This is our other, elderly PWD, about to jump off. He is another inspiration in our lives. Two years ago he developed a strange nasal blockage. His nose would bleed, and he would sneeze and sneeze blood. One night, awakening us from sleep, he sneezed so hard and so long that out came a marble sized piece of tissue. We took him and the tissue to the vet's and they determined that the tissue was malignant that he had cancer in his nasal cartilage. Because the nose is so close to the brain and eyes, they felt it would spread quickly and he would die in less than 6 months. Since his cathetic sneezing episode, however, he has not has one nosebleed, not slowed down, not exhibited a single sign of illness, confusion, blindness, nothing (other than old age weakness in the hindquarters). Two years. Here is a question that my yoga instructor posed one night after class: "How do you reconcile the two seemingly inconsistant views that one should always strive for self-improvement and that one is perfect just the way you are?"