I had some quiet moments by myself as the sun set this evening. A somber day, but the calls of playing children wafted in on the wind. A sliver of moon rose above the trees. The quiet thrum of life buzzed all around.
Long may she wave . . .
Knowledge is power no matter the time or place
Wisdom stands sentinel
After each dusk, comes a dawn
On a rare morning on which my husband and I found ourselves alone (as he put it: all three of our children in school = mind blown), we traveled to a nearby town for a supremely delicious and grossly oversized breakfast. After which, we took a stroll in the park. How provincial of us. Certainly a change of pace.
So many secret paths and warrens
How many bees can you find?
Love this
A step back in time?
Ironically not right on the shore
I first noticed these art deco mailboxes in a little country post office several months ago. I, like so many other times before, wished I had my camera with me. I vowed to return and take pictures if I could do so without looking like a nut job. Don’t know if I succeeded in the latter (I jumped when I realized the clerk watching me from the window), but I got the pics.
Functional art deco
They don’t make ’em like they used to . . .
Baking soda is my new best friend.
After a tragic red wine incursion on my husband’s part on the kitchen counter, I thought for sure the white laminate was done for. Alas, baking soda is my new savior. I don’t think I’ve ever before accessed its truly miraculous cleansing powers. Nor have I so closely examined my kitchen counter, though we’ve lived here for a year! Or maybe it’s just never been clean enough for me to notice the subtle pattern in it 😉
Red wine disaster averted (for the time being – don’t ask 😕 ), we enjoyed a homemade ‘gravy’ from homegrown tomatoes (thanks to my husband’s coworker) and a loaf of delicious peasant bread from a local farm. Good stuff.
Red wine, meet baking soda. Baking soda, red wine.
Am I the only one who sees the flying nun looking back at her!?
Yesterday we celebrated my daughter’s birthday, leaving me with no time to poke around the local environs with my camera. I did, of course, take pics of the blowing out of candles and opening of presents, but not of something different after having moved here – or so I thought. This is the first birthday of hers we’d celebrated in our new home; her last being a mere two weeks before we moved out of our last home. Our house had already been under contract for almost two months so I thought for sure the first soiree we hosted in Chez Noveau would be her birthday, but the best laid plans and worst real estate stipulations . . . in any event, sweet memories now.
Welcome to my new bow-tique
My oldest and middle daughters used to hold their breaths as they passed this graveyard, something the oldest picked up from one of the other kids on the school bus. As they learned the lay of the land, but hadn’t quite mastered it, they inadvertently forgot to do so one day. When she lived to tell the tale, my oldest announced, we don’t have to hold our breaths anymore; nothing bad’s going to happen.
Not that I thought anything bad was going to happen, but I think I was holding my breath for quite sometime before I felt I had the lay of the land. A year later and we all breath more freely. (except when we have trash for the dump in the back of the car, which was where we were headed when I made my husband stop for these photos 😉 )
Tell me when the cemetery’s coming, Mom!
Small is the gate . . .
Dappled quiet light from above
Scenes from September 5
The light pouring in the windows of this house is what sold us on it. The view through those windows didn’t hurt either.
Where the treetops meet the sky
As Hurricane Sandy rolled through, we woke to the tallest, skinniest pine bending back and forth in the breeze.
The solar hula girl whose hips squeak with each gyration.
The day of the insect.
I didn’t know it would be. I hadn’t planned on it.
But as the sun peeked over the trees this morning, it illuminated a huge spider web stretched between two branches. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they were everywhere. And big. And beautiful.
I know this is the time of year when I tend to find spiders smooshed into the smallest spaces and corners of our warmer-than-the-chill-outside-air house, but it seems like they are proliferating like crazy. Or just enjoying a last hurrah at the end of the season.
Then there were slugs and fuzzy caterpillars lining the driveway.
So insects and arachnids abound. They are my muse today.
I love the way this one seems to be floating through the air.
My children’s literature experience with slugs is the ones fireflies suck the life out of and My Buddy Slug – revolting and endearing. Don’t know about this guy, but I do love his little antennae poking up!
fuzzy wuzzy was a hairy old man who wreaked havoc on plant life . . .
The first day of school dawned misty and mournful, just like the groan that came from my daughter’s bedroom as the alarm’s buzzer issued. But the drive in was filtered by sunlight and these moments of clarity on the way home.
Bi-way
I loved the way the trees and various shades and textures of green filled the frame
Time flows on, just like water, but there is the moment just before the plunge; the pause, the reflection, the leaves poised on the brink. And then the plunge.
Baby frog (or toad – the girls and I have not sorted that out yet) that started out on our porch, then hopped under the chairs, off the edge under the rail, onto the grass from the raised flower bed – all through which we gave chase. Then most likely a heart attack as my camera flashed at the poor little thing as I focused. He looks huge here, but so tiny and delicate.
I’ll climb the walls if I have to in order to get away from you people!
A few mosquitoes, damp grass, the softly falling first leaves of the next season, a photographic excursion the night before the first day of school where time seems to stop, the season of summer suspended in its last breaths.
Chopping Potatoes 