Tuesday, 28 July 2015

rainy afternoon

Greetings from a rainy afternoon.  It's been threatening rain for a week now with barely a drizzle so I thought I'd hang some laundry to dry, and of course, it rains! Wasn't I the sight running out to gather two pairs of jeans. I left the socks and underwear on the line as it was raining so hard, hoping to come out later to rehang the jeans, but still it rains.  I wonder if the rainwater will have any softening effect on the laundry out there.

In the meantime, what better way to amuse oneself than with watercolour painting. I only just finished this, the better of two:

 "Talking on the phone with Leona"
because that's what I was doing with my dear friend in Toronto
A sweet last Tuesday of July to you.  Remembering to find the gift in each moment.

Saturday, 25 July 2015

wildflower walk around the hayfield

I'm so grateful today as I write this.
On Monday I fell against the kitchen counter, my foot asleep, and slammed my arm and wrist, saving myself from a complete fall.  I twisted my ankle, barely saving it from a fracture. Ouch!

I got my foot up, slatherered in Arnica cream, and then remembered to put on a bandage with castor oil, both old-time healers. Muji is more concerned about being cuddled than my foot, believe me.

By the next day I was so much better that I could wear shoes, and suddenly found myself out in the hayfield on a breezy, overcast afternoon. I honestly don't know what propelled me except for the delight in being able to walk at all. Here's the back side of Forget-Me-Not Cabin as I depart.

I slowly walked the perimeter where bits of mown hay still lay

happy to see the wildflowers like this daisy

and these cinque foile

These are a form of wild aster called Fleabane

Fleabane up close

a wild rose blossom

The sweet smelling flower of an unknown tree

Now I've come around the back edge of the field, its eastern corner,
 where you can see Forget-Me-Not Cabin in the distance

There is a surprise stand of milkweed here, main food source of the Monarch Butterfly (that we never see out here) and how it smells, so sweet that I'm constantly amazed that it has never been bottled

Really, it is as wonderful as any rose!

These little babies, I've learned, are very common in this part of the world.

They are called Longleaf Starwort.

Another variety of wild rose

a heavenly blossom

a tender beauty

Here is a berry I have not identified

It has the leaf of a cherry, but the fruit doesn't grow like cherries

It is just beginning to ripen 


a happy snail

I turn around to capture home

a pretty pink/violet flower

There is a sudden profusion of them

It has the appearance of a thistle but I don't detect thorns

a little bumblebee enjoys them

Keys! I've only seen them on maples and this is not a maple

This sweetly perfumed, pretty fluffy flower grows on a tree
that seems somehow familiar to me, as if we used to see it on our old property

Like a bit of natural fireworks. its name is unknown to me 

nature girl
I pluck one of them and slip it into the hole of my zipper. 
This little venture around the hayfield has made me so happy.

The scarlet underside of a yellow leaf

A Thistle for real.

A grove of Sumac that makes me think of childhood visits to my grandmother's cottage.
With this I turn to make my way back across the field. There is an ominous feeling about the air.

A Queen Anne's Lace unfurling, a typical field flower

The globe seed head of a a large weed

I decide to head back on a diagonal toward home, heading north to Forget-Me-Not Cabin

Behind me, the fan of trees that I admire from home

I hold up a mitfull of hay as a token to my walk made easy by its cutting

The house looms closer

Home beneath the clouds
Muji awaits my return

a little romp around the garden. Behold the beautiful onion flower

and the hollyhocks on one side of the composter

almost black

heart of a hollyhock

an asymmetrical echinacea on the other side of the composter

and the rain comes down of a sudden.

Have a lovely weekend, grateful for all our working parts,
 our senses, our innate connection to the sublime

Tuesday, 21 July 2015

two Sundays

Hello again.  I'm back after 2 Sundays.
The first Sunday after I last posted, I suggested that Wally and I go out for a picnic.

Here's Wally well rested after our reprieve from reality. We rested in the cooling shade of these trees while I read to him from Henry James' gothic tale: The Turn of the Screw. 

On Monday morning I woke to the tractor baling the mown hay.

Here he comes scooping the windrows into his baler.

About to poop a bale out, I mean release one..

and there it's gone, rolling away.

Rounding our end of the field

Coming back past our yard

The closest bale

and there he goes again in the summer heat

I turned to go back in, snapping this shot of an echinacea flower about to bloom

As I played with Babu, Muji came bounding in to grab the string,
something he rarely does

It pleased me to see him in such good form, but what's with the tongue?

After supper, the hay all baled, this ambitious farmer came out to retrieve all his bales

Scooping one up,

he turns to take it back to the hay wagon.

One of the crows in the field seemed somewhat curious about me

but he never came close enough for me to get a good shot

Here he is in context to the tractor

his mouth open to cool himself in the heat

So, any other blogger would probably save these shots for another day, but as I've got so many favourites, I'll share a few more with you to round out the 2 Sundays:

like this funny one of Muji. Wally called me to see Muji sleeping in this unusual position

Even this one, minutes later is unusual

This is the 2nd Sunday. Wally begins to open the wall up to pack it with insulation.

What to do with the telephone wire attached to the old telephone box...

Salvaging the telephone box. I was thinking it might make a neat altar.
Underneath old cupboard that he'd already removed lay a strip of old wallpaper

A charming strip of vintage wallpaper made to look like tile 

The windmill image up close

The faint remains of more wallpaper that could not be salvaged

Wally at the end of a good afternoon's work

As he went to rest, I pulled out my watercolours and painted for the first time since February.
The spell is broken.

Sweet dreams.