the garden

Chance meeting

One of the things i love most about coming to this small island
is how naturally i slow down.
Even when driving.
On the mainland
i can get very frustrated behind a slow driver.
All of that changes
when i get behind the wheel in Madaket.

It used to be that my bike and feet were my only
modes of transportation here.
i confess that i now take full advantage of
the truck that is left for my use
but
here's the curious thing
all sense of speed when driving is immediately
and completely altered.
When driving here i often have the sensation
that i am zipping down the road
but each and every time i glance nervously at the speedometer
i am surprised
almost shocked
to discover i'm going only 30-35mph
often just 25
and that the truck behind me is not on my tail
trying to push me to go faster.
When i go exploring off-road
it's even slower.
Slow enough to notice tiny bluets in flower
and small song birds.

Early on my second morning here
i got in the truck to head out into the moors
and when i turned off the asphalt and onto a dirt road
i took my foot off the accelerator
knowing that i was coming to a one lane bridge
just around the outcropping of scrub oak
blocking it from view.
And, i wanted to approach as quietly as possible
because the creek under the bridge
is a great spot for observing interesting water birds.
both great and snowy egrets like to fish in these waters.
Apparently, so do others...

Dear reader,
i am not exaggerting when i tell you
that when rounding the scrub oak
i was only about 5 yards from the bridge
and the massive bird perched on its wooden railing.

He or she took flight a few seconds after i appeared
but not before i looked into his or her eyes.
And when those wide, wide wings stroked the air
i lost my breath.

There was no time to grab my camera
and so i did what most of us do now
i searched on line and found the marvelous work of Mia McPherson
whose image of a juvenile bald eagle
was almost identical to the magnificent bird i met
(and, undoubtedly, finer than what i could have produced)

 

Apparently
eagles are nesting in Rhode Island
and visit the island from time to time.

i've seen them soaring in the skies above my home in NJ
and marveled at the size of their nests away up high
in the tallest oak trees
but this...
this chance meeting
has altered me to the bone.

And do make sure you follow this link, to Mia's amazing close encounter--with more images, of that incredible face and those eyes.

i flee, i fly

The sun is a beast today.
Thin clouds are doing their best to protect us.

in my next life i wish to be a bird or a cat
so that when the incompatible weather (heat) arrives
i could fly away

Oh! let me be a chimney swift
and live my life on the wing
away, away up so high


or
like the purring fur ball that lives here
let me sleep all day
wake just long enough to stretch, eat a morsel, drink
stretch, then sleep until it's gone.


If i must be human
then let me
when the suffocating heat arrives
flee to a perfect little house
on an island beach at the lip of a shallow harbor

where the thermometer rarely touches 80 degrees F

Come June, i dash in and quickly splash out of the little sea at my door step


 
and in July it is delicously chilly at first but only bracing
and in August my dear friends come visit
and we share breakfast
then body surf in blue green waves
and in September i spend every evening watching the sun drop past the horizon


  
and in October i come back to this home and the turning of the leaves.

ah, well.
Finally, i can take a deep breath.
Because, while i've been composing this
a stiff breeze has kicked up
and clouds are thickening
and is that thunder i hear in the distance?!

Today, with heat smothering my face
singeing my nerves
i did remember some important things:

• i used to live where it was truly hot and many friends and family still do
• i once dreamed of living here

and now, here i am.

i can look out any of my windows
at the 1001 shades of green
and the blue sky and cotton white clouds
at the iris & peonies


allium & grasses and a the buds on a deutzia

and the first roses

i will close my eyes and savor the sweet evening breeze on my sweaty face
and thank my guardian stars that
i could flee that desert before i turned to dust
and live and breathe, here
in this big house with big windows full of trees and sky
and in this garden.

 

another angel flew by

 

July 1st

this sketch is from the garden archives...2006.

June 28th

Thanks to blyber.net for card generator

January 13th

Over the past couple of hours
the temperature crawled toward
then just above freezing.
In the sunshine
the water in the birdbath has melted
a flock of chickadees stops by 
and they take turns
sipping and bathing.

i didn't wish to chance disturbing them
water is a precious find for birds in winter
so
no photo.
Sharing an old sketch instead

January 19th

In the garden with birds.
There are those that walk
and those that hop

July 15th

Sorry about the long pauses between posting
i've been creating another blog
a special one just for some very special young people and myself.
They are nieces who are now free from school days
and a blog was a pretty good way
i felt
for us to connect and get to know each other a bit better.
It's loads of fun getting their comments and
posting their drawings, etc. i recommend it for anyone
wanting to connect to family or friends very far away.

Anyway...that's where i've been
and
oh yes
taking a weekend to drive up to Mt. Washington...more about that soon.
For now
i'll share some of the photos i posted for the nieces.
i'm no great wildlife photographer
but i could not resist taking snaps
of the baby wrens getting ready to fledge.
Here are three:

Mom or dad (it's impossible for me to discern)
delivering a tasty morsel:

The young thing squawks at me:

Just how far down is it, anyway?

March 16th

click to see a larger version

they say
that the biggest storm of the season
is on its way...
hmmpfff!!
we'll see.
no'reasters are notorious
for their unpredictability.

if
however
the level of activity at our
bird feeders is an accurate prediction
then yes! gather ye stores while ye may!
but i think all it means is that
we have put fresh seed out
and fresh cakes of suet
and it's cold
and there are no predators about.

this little fellow
a Carolina wren
was staring intently at the woodpecker
on the suet cage
trying to decide
i suppose
when to jump on over.

in certain light
the warm colors of his body glow.
he pondered long enough
for me to grab a pencil and sketchbook
but i had to wrestle the colors on my own.

because scans of my color drawings or sketches
are so washed out or distorted
i've taken to coloring in with a mouse-pen in photoshop
inspired by Elaine's (monkeypaints) birds of yore.
(she is not currently blogging but promises to return one day
and i am eager for that day to come)

in the meantime
i enjoy experimenting with the new skills
Elaine encouraged me to explore.

And a heap 'o thanks (i guess a touch of St. Pat's Day jocularity has infected me) to all of you who left such skind comments of encouragement on the last post, re my project. i'm gathering the photos, cropping, drawing, designing and writing...i hope to have something to show in May...which may be overly ambitious but the stretching and eagerness feels good. Very good.

P. S. to Marly: the title, "Her Front Door" came into my head, along with a yet-secret-story that spontaneously imprinted itself onto my imagination as i stood on the side of a road one August morning, in East Sussex, England and viewed the door through my camera's viewfinder. My front door...or i should say, the door we use most often, will most likely appear in the project that now fevers my brain. i loved the "seedy" front garden, cottage and door, too.

January 20th

a busy fortnight
spent keeping body and soul tethered
and functioning
i didn't realize how intense
how long it had been
until i looked to see the date
on my last post.
hope you haven't given up visiting!

glancing up from the computer the other day
only the second day of typical January temperatures
i saw the neighbor's golden boy
that's what we call him
he's a ginger tabby who
likes to sleep on our sun-bathed bench
roll in our freshly tilled garden soil
(and leave us unwanted deposits)
and yes
drink from the bird bath.

a tiny sketch from the small, fat sketchbook with the
Blue Ridge mountain sketches in the last post.
finally discovered that the luscious, soft, toothy paper likes my 2B pencils.

Click to Enlarge

watching golden boy
i realized that he was desperately thirsty
that the boys (two bachelor brothers) who own him
and who are generally caring
must have forgotten about putting out water
frequently
during freezing weather
(their barn cats have never known the inside of a house)
golden boy came again and again within minutes to our birdbath
so
i went out and dumped the ice
poured in fresh water
and he drankanddrankanddrankanddrankanddrank.

and i immediately felt guilty about the birds needs, too.

we now make sure
to keep water available/melted
for them both
who
surprisingly
now that the cats are older
pretty much ignore each other.

speaking of birds:
a wonderful community of crows
has settled in the trees of the hill behind us
and around the neighbor hood.
i frequently am privy to their
charming, if raucous, confabs.
yesterday
walking past the tiny little
clay court tennis club set incongruously amongst
modest, 100 year old houses
i met a very confidant
handsomely glossy fellow
examining the small lawn outside the clubhouse.

he could not have cared much at all
that i was a mere six feet away
even when i stopped
and turned to face him.
he simply continued walking
back and forth
glancing down
then up at me.