long, low light

Sometimes, late November light

can take my breath away.

enough is enough

Seems to me...

 a lot of that warm moist air

is coming from numerous hysterical weather people.

Mother Nature is an awesome force.

It's good to be humbled by her once in awhile.

Nothing wrong with staying inside with a good book,

a fire in the fireplace,

some knitting and a battery powered radio.

I'm going to get some hand sewing done!

Stay safe, everyone.

the river in autumn

It sure has been pretty here.

Most mornings, I have celebrated the day

with a walk down to the river.

I've shown you this bridge before.

It was designed and built in 1892

by the Roebling Company--

experts in their time 

in designing and building suspension bridges.

(The Brooklyn Bridge was also designed and built by Roebling.)

Mill workers used it to cross the river by foot 

every day to go to work and back.  

It carries two abreast.

It has been recently restored 

and is enjoyed by many in the area

for its beauty, and for the way it moves with you

as you walk on it.

Downstream about a half mile,

there is another bridge that carries cars and trucks.

Restored mills are on both sides of the river.

Two of my docs have offices in those mills.

The view from the windows is grand.

Don't know if you can make it out,

but in the bluest part of the river above

there is a reflection of 

the black railroad bridge 

which also crosses the river nearby.

Every walk takes me from bridge, to bridge 

to bridge.

Today the water was like glass.

Behind that little rocky island,

I spent some time watching a cormorant

fill its tummy with little fish.

This is a wonderful place to reflect each day.

(Pardon the pun.)

*  ~~  *  ~~  * 

Just wanted to say hi, and thank you for

continuing to drop by and leave your

good spirits and kind thoughts.

I keep up with you all several times a week.

(I sneak in and sneak back out when you aren't looking.)

Sending love.

island girl

I've just returned from an awesome respite!

There is nothing like the right company to get your spirits back.

This is my granddaughter, who turned 2 in late June.

She came to visit Grammy on "Grammy's Favorite Island".

Grammy was there to rest.

...And on the second week, out came the Respite Reserves!

Three wonderful women--

my daughter, my granddaughter,

and a dear friend we've known

 since she was a college student in the area 

30 years ago.

(A second mother to my daughter, a surrogate sister to me,

and dearest Auntie Chelle to Ingrid.)

They each took such good care of my heart and soul.

We had no stroller, but we had good shoes.

No toys, but Mother Nature was all around us.

No electricity, but lots of books--

and a solar panel that lit a bulb or two in each of four rooms.

Beautiful sunsets, and myriad stars on the porch at night.

While the lighthouse light went round and round.

Every morning called us to go outside

to see the world.

When our feet got tired,

we sat down and sang songs or told stories.

We found cool stuff to look at in the woods,

and made little houses out of what we found, for the fairies.

We fed the ducks every day.  

Some would get right on your lap, if you let them.

There was  a shop down the road

that had different ducks to visit.

A little wardrobe adjustment was necessary

every day or so.

Some hikes took us out to the rocks

at the back side of the island.

It was so pretty there, you sometimes

felt like dancing.

The waves hit the rocks in exciting and beautiful ways.

Splash!!   Boom!!!  

"Here comes another one, Grammy!"

This little pond on the rocks tasted salty!

And it was cool refreshment for piggy toes.

Every night, we went out to the porch

to watch the sunset over the ocean.

(You can do that in New England if you are on an island!)

Ingrid would sit with us for 20 minutes or so,

just watching.

Then after bath, it was back to the porch to look at the stars. 

Snuggled into jammies and her fleece sleeping bag,

she could watch forever--quiet, rapt, amazed.

"So many stars, Mama!"

No wonder I am feeling so happy and refreshed.

Thank you, wonderful women!

I love you all so much.

Thank you, Monhegan Island,

...my heart's home.

Did it!

                                                      seasonal repose

After four years, I did it.

I submitted two photographs to a public exhibition.

First time ever.

Aside from this site, I have rarely shown anyone

 who wasn't a friend or a member of my family

any of my art work.

Quite new to the world of making art,

I have had to be persuaded to describe myself

using the term "artist".

I have admired the creations and photographs 

of others for a long, long time.

But, due to many disappointing experiences in elementary school art

about a million years ago,

I thought of myself as someone who was incapable

of such a thing.

At best, I could follow directions in a sewing, quilting or knitting pattern.

To me, following directions did not amount to art.

I got tired of all that somewhere in my late 50s.

People I knew and loved were venturing forth

into creativity with oils, pastels, paper, fiber, and photography.

They were having so much fun.

I could no longer resist.

Our town hosts a yearly benefit for the arts in our schools 

called the 10x10 Art Exhibit and Sale.

Artists in the community enter pieces in the show,

and people come for miles around to see what's "up".

It has come to be in the last several years that the exhibit

has outgrown its original single venue.

These days, it spills from the local library

to the church next door and back again.

This year, instead of three works,

submitters can only enter two, 

due to the growing number of entrants.

Not a juried exhibit, everyone's submission will be on the walls.

Each piece is in a 10"x10" format.

Each is framed in a plain black metal frame.

Each is offered for sale at the same price,

with half of that going to the arts program

and half to the artist.

I have no fancy notions of selling anything.

The accomplishment here is taking the leap.

Having to prepare a couple of photos ready to be framed,

and write an "artist's statement" and bio,

and open myself up to the risks 

of other people's judgment.

All childhood stuff.  All very real and powerful, nevertheless.

What I wouldn't have done to have had Christie from Fine Lines

for an art teacher.  What a difference it would have made

to my sense of self.

But I'm not done yet. 

Some things just need to be refused, overcome, laid to rest, 

you know?

If you are in the Midcoast Maine area the last week in Sept.

come on down to the Brunswick Library and

 St. Paul's Episcopal Church

to see the show.

It never disappoints! 

                                                                         puddle moon

Mandala meditation

Here's something I found

while enjoying some respite time today.

It comes from the website:

http://premaspace.com/index.php

...which they've asked me to mention as I share this

beautiful video.

Find yourself five minutes for a mandala meditation,

grab a pen or pencil and some paper.

Don't worry about perfection.

Just be...

Find peace.  Create beauty. 

Enjoy.

pause

 A cool breeze is filtering into the room 

after a long stream of hot and humid days and nights.  

Summer windows flung wide open, 

soft rain gently patters on leaves, 
pavement, skylights, roof.  

It is almost dark at 8:05, 

and one of 'my' cardinals is chipping 

just outside the window near the porch feeder.  

This lovely creature visits several times a day.  

Here in the gentle rain, she says  goodnight.

Before I am ready, winter will be back. 

These sounds 

and these whispers of sweet fresh air 

will be a thing of memory. 

This is time to savor.  

Amidst myriad chores, 

obligations, and countless caregiving duties, 

here is our lovely, peaceful world 

inviting me to slow down and participate.  

Quiet, Mike.  Breathe.  

All the rest will be here tomorrow.  

But this here, this is NOW.   

This is what I need.

wise words from Nora

You have made my life richer, Nora Ephron.

Rest in peace.

simple gifts

The pleasures of a summer evening...

It doesn't get any better than this!

a miracle in the woods

They float.

If you look on the ground, you are likely to miss them.

Look about ten inches above the ground,

and there they are.

Amidst the leaf litter and the pine needles,

in the dappled sunny spots

where new growth takes a chance,

they surprise and delight.

Lady slippers.

The best secret in the Maine woods.

some thoughts about being away

You've probably noticed.

I've been away from blog-land for a bit.

Sometimes I've dropped in for a comment or two.

Mostly I've visited, but made no noise.

I'm not sure I can fully explain it.

Except to say I've been trying not to make 

personal 'rules' about blogging, which has been something

that has given me joy.

And at the same time I've been a little

more reluctant to be online in any way.

My life is more complicated than many of you 

probably think.

My husband hasn't been well for several years.

He is declining in health in small steps,

but in significant ways.

I've been trying to figure out how best

to spend my quiet time in ways 

that really "feed" me without tiring me.

Much of my days find me doing "maintenance"

and "taking care":  fetching and finding

and ever "adapting to new levels of 'normal' ".

And then there were income taxes, and medical appointments,

and more resultant fatigue on my part than

I usually experience.

This winter, I found that when I'd finally have time

to get online it was rather late at night.

And although I am often quite tired at the end of the day,

I think "screen time" was jazzing me up a bit.

Falling asleep was beginning to be a challenge.

Anyone who has ever been a caregiver knows

that self-nurturing

and sleep are two essential ingredients to remaining sane.

I miss you guys, however.

I really do.

So, although I am not posting as much, I hope

you will understand,

and not forget me.

I'll be back.  I'm sure of it.

xo 

shaking out the cobwebs

There is nothing like an art workshop

to shake out the cobwebs

and inspire the soul.

I posted about an art workshop

last year around this time.

Today's workshop, like that one, was taught by my friend

Natasha Kempers-Cullen

who is a fiber artist extraordinaire.

Natasha makes amazing art quilts assembled with

fabric which she dyes, paints, stamps

and then embellishes using beads and stitches and all sorts

of beautiful charms and other magic stuff.

I have always wanted to see 

how she created that gorgeous fabric.

You can't get stuff like that off the shelf.

I like to sew, I like to make quilts,

and I LOVE to fool around with paint.

I've longed for some lessons in fabric painting and stamping.

It was a dream come true for me.

Wa-hoo!

This weekend we brought erasers, brayers, foam paint rollers, 

exacto knives, lino tools,

sponges, rags, a bucket,

lots of torn up sheets, plexiglass,

and anything we could find with a raised surface design

that might lend itself to fabric painting and stamping.

Tasha supplied the know-how,

the paints, the tricks, materials for stamp making,  

use of her many self-made stamps,

great music, the chocolate and the encouragement.

There were five of us, including our teacher/mentor/muse/mom/ friend.  

First, we all painted fabric, 

using various techniques which Tasha demonstrated.

We hung them up to dry when we had background covering,

and later took them down 

and added paint, stenciling, any little thing our hearts desired.

Went home Saturday late afternoon.

Got up Sunday and came right back to do some more.

Want to see the results?

I thought you would.

Here are some of the many fabric designs created today.

The artists are Nicole, Becky, Anne, Tasha, and moi.

Before you go, check this out:

Natasha produced a really nice lime colored linen shirt

which she had dripped a little bleach on sometime in the past.

Drips and drops of blah-colored fabric

not very attractively dispersed along the front.

Don't you hate when that happens--

a perfectly good shirt that acquires a 

stain and it is no longer wearable?

Well, this shirt was one of them.

Or so we thought.

She took out the fabric paint,

a brayer, scrunched up the blouse, rolled,

repeated often...

and Voila!

Ready to wear again.  

Better than new.

They should teach fabric painting in every high school!

harvesting clams

Clamming is hard work for folks.

You head out with some white spackle buckets, 

a plastic snow sled or a small boat, 

wearing big tall boots that go to your knees. 

You carry a heavy hand rake that looks like this:

You walk in the mud as far as you can go.

...and you bend over, for hours, no matter 

if the sun is hot or the wind is freezing,

while you turn over the mud and look for clams.

As the tide goes further out or in,

you travel with it.

If there are two low tides when it's light out,

you just might return the same day for another harvest.

(I figure a lot of Ibuprophen gets ingested

by clammers in these parts.)

When the tide comes back in,

or when you've had enough,

you take your clams back to shore,

often leaving your boat at anchor on the mud, or in the water.

It'll float on high tide,

sit in low tide,

and be there when you come back the next day.

When you go out to do it all over again.

Then you drive to the dealer, 

and hope for a good price.

A price which, after you pay for the gas 

to get to and from your grounds,

will adequately compensate you 

for your hours bent over in all weather, raking.

Any cracked or broken clams,

no matter how alive they still are,

will not be part of your sale.

But you can bring those home and make chowder.

Or fry them, or make clam cakes.

Maybe until you never want to eat another clam again.

*   *   *

Clamming is easy for gulls.

You gather on the flats, and look for the spurts

that clams make in the mud.

You poke around with your beak, and haul one

to the surface.

Then, you take wing.

One might think it would be hard to make a meal

of a live clam, one who has his shell locked shut

and will not willingly give up his innards for a gull's dinner.

If you are a gull, you have all this covered.

You put the clam in  your beak, and you

glide over above the nearest rock.

Then, you slow, bank, hover, and let go. 

You might have to do it more than once,

but sooner or later that clam

breaks, and your dinner is yours.

No chowder, no truck, no haggling, no clamcakes.

Just pure, sweet clam meat

there for a poke, a soar, and a drop or two.

Tell me, who has the better life??