Taken two months ago (nearly to the day) a few miles southwest of Carrington North Dakota. The *ridge* or what passes for one on the prairie, seen in the far distance where the radio towers are barely visibe, is a couple hundred feet above the surrounding plains.
Visit here for more Skywatch posts.
hot hay-scented breath in your face brings on fits of giggling…
homemade peach ice-cream fixes a belly-ache…
busy bees fly off with your troubles…
pausing to admire a ladybug is sure to make you smile…
silly puppies with their first-ever bandana will cure anything that ails you!
No… not one of my pampered housebunnies, but a wild one caught freeloading in the veggie garden.
The neighborhood cottontails seem to know they can get away with it here. The groundhogs still haven’t figured out they’re not welcome, after many years of well-aimed flip-flops tossed in their direction.
😉
Relax, Susan.
😉
Silly me didn’t plan far enough ahead to schedule visits for this week; which means I’m chained to the desk, to this view, for the whole long week. It’s a good thing, really. I’m feeling almost caught up now, ready to cope with whatever curveballs my clients try to toss my way.
I sort of moved in today, finally, after a year at this desk. I brought some things I love… things to make me smile, things that comfort me, things that let me feel content in this place without a view of the outside, things that remind me of happy times spent elsewhere. Honestly, I’m coveting the recently-vacated window cubicle, tho the view is far from spectacular; at least there is sight of the sky and some green and growing things. I’ll stay here anyway, on the aisle, subject to whoever happens by with something to amuse me. The distractions are constant… homemade brownies! … bochinche (gossip) that I’d missed… the boss asking me into her office, the phone forever ringing.
😉
What I’d really like is to be free of all of this… to have the summers I remember as a kid… the sun and the sand and the ocean. Freedom… freedom from being responsible to anything but what brings joy and makes me smile.
(Dreaming)
This morning, on my hike from the parking lot, there were coworkers gawking and pointing at the dozen or so turkey vultures warming their wings on the roof of the building, waiting for some warmth to lift them aloft… waiting for something to carry them away from the needs and obligations of their mundane everyday life.
Blogger was behaving badly this weekend and rather than fight it, I gave in to my occasional tendencies to be a lazy bum and didn’t even bother trying to post anything. Summer doldrums, maybe.
I made it to the Farmer’s Market in town this morning – that’s were I found this drop-dead gorgeous crocosmia – I love the burnt orange flowers. I hope this one’ll fare better than the one I planted years ago; the nice lady who sold it to me said it’s winter hardy if well-mulched. We’ll see. The hummers should appreciate it as long as it lasts.
The Red Bank Farmer’s Market is an odd mix: part traditional market, part craft show, part kitsch. Today there was a huge display of silk (plastic?) flowers next to a table with the sweetest organically grown herbs, a vendor peddling a dozen varities of pickles, someone selling tacky t-shirts, etc. all surrounded by fresh Jersey produ
ce. All I bought with my $20 was the crocosmia; the rest went towards one too many cups of coffee in the park down by the river. Plus, I got sunburned, again.
😉
Cucumbers and eggplants and squash and peppers are in – as are peaches! No donut peaches, yet. Ever tried them? They’re a favorite in my house – the flesh is white and the skin really thin – and they’re very juicy (definite kitchen sink snack) and they taste just slightly of almonds. Yummy. Maybe next weekend.
Click for a nicer view!Are you wondering what a parterre is? Don’t speak French?
😉
A parterre is a symmetrical garden, often with roses or perennials and boxwood hedges. They’re meant to be viewed from above, to better appreciate the pattern of the design, but I preferred the ground-level view of this still young planting.
I’ve been watching this one take shape for a couple years now at the local horticultural park. It was nice the other day to find that the park system had reached the final stages of restoring this treasured part of the many display gardens at Deep Cut.
I think the view will be gorgeous in the wintertime from the top of the hillside by the rockery – the weeping hemlocks there laced with snow – and the curving lines of the boxwoods in the parterre outlined in white, too.
A pic of the parterre from two summers ago is here. I can’t imagine how much nicer it’ll be two years from now.
Update: Susan had a bit of fun at Delia’s expense also. Delia, of course, knows we make fun of her only cause we love her so. You know that Delia, right?
This pic of Delia, unashamedly stolen from her blog (and a definite contender for next month’s cover of “Field and Stream”) reminded me of this pic of the DH:
Apparently the size of the fish has nothing whatsoever to do with the goofiness of the fisherman’s grin.
😉
It’s the Spring of your life,
I laugh at your foolishness,
protect you from danger,
make sure you grow and glow with health,
practice and play until…
It’s the Summer of your life,
What a beauty you’ve become!
You’ve (almost) grown into yourself,
You live at full tilt, with a passion for life.
– – – – – – – – – – – –
It all started innocently enough. Heartbroken and dog-less for the first time in 12 years, we found this adorable pup to ease our lonesomeness. He’s brought joy and a good amount of laughter, but also a sense of déjà -vu; that we’d done this all before, that we know all the pitfalls, have fallen for these same tricks and devilment sometime in the past. There is no better way to forget, or remember, than a puppy.
I imagine I’ll always think of them linked this way; the leaving of one so close to the coming of the other. Today is Luka’s Gotcha-Day and this past Friday marked a year since Buddy passed away.
Dogs, especially old dogs, are a treasure. They are more than themselves, they are us. Part of us. They live our life, are the calendar of our joys and sorrows. We run our fingers through our past when we caress their broad chest and velvet ears.
– – – – – – – – – – – –
In the Autumn of your life,
you grew more sedate;
your troubles so far in the past,
I’d almost forgotten
the Spring of your life.
Your colors still vibrant, but
a tinge of silver frosted your muzzle
and foretold…
The Winter of your life,
your eyes as clouded as a December sky,
You passed as gently
as snow falling on frozen fields.
I weep now and remember all the seasons of your life
and the years of mine that you carried away with you.
*Poetry adapted from Pieces of My Heart by Jim Willis
Summer has its windows open: listen to the crickets and smell the thick breath of the sea. There’s not a cloud in the sky and miles of warm sun-scented beach ahead. We could walk for hours… leave our shoes on the boardwalk, skip stones by the jetty, trace our dreams in the sand.
That magic place where the sea meets the sky… I want to look at it forever, watch the slow progression of waves and listen to the dune grasses strum, laughter carried across beach blankets, the laughter of gulls rivaling ours, that old longing in me now so familiar as the waves roll in.
My sense of time and distance is lost to the lullaby of the surf, to an egret stalking the salt marsh on angel’s wings, the beckoning breeze and its thoughts of you.
Take my hand, stay for a moment, taste the sea’s kiss on my lips.
A postcard scene… wish you were here.
It rained today, all day.
I daydreamed.
