Painted Turtle

Yertle the turtle came wandering across the road. Some nice people stopped, rather than run it over, and put it on the other side of the road, which happend to be our front yard.

I think it was a "painted turtle". It was also, literally, painted, because it had the letters "PBR" painted on it's shell in pink nailpolish. What does that stand for anyway, "Pabst Blue Ribbon"? Stupid people.

Since we didn't think nailpolish remover would be such a good idea for a turtle, we gently chipped it off with our fingernails. My husband, Dave, my best friend, Joanna and I. It seemed pretty calm about the whole procedure.

We then put it into a galvanized washtub with a big rock to crawl on and some lettuce and peas from our garden to eat. We placed it in the sun. It seemed pretty content.


The next day we brought it to a nearby lake and let it go.


Bye Bye, Yertle. Hope you have a nice turtley life.

Look at that turtle go, Bro!

Frog that came to visit.

 

Mmmmmmm.....Peas.....

Yum!

 

Giant Ichneumon Wasp

The other day I found a very interesting insect which I had never seen before. It was a bedraggled cat toy for the hordes of feral cats that my next-door neighbor feeds. I examined it and found it still alive. It was some kind of very large wasp, with a long tail. I guessed (correctly) that the "tail" was not a stinger, but an ovipositor. I examined it, took some pictures of the poor half-dead thing, and released it in an area with fewer feral cats.

Since the pictures didn't come out very well, I decided not to use them on my blog. The very next morning, as I was leaving for work, what did I find but another one of these weird bugs, right on the hood of my car! I went into the house and grabbed the camera, and here it is!

A little google searching taught me that the female giant ichneumon wasp uses it's long ovipositor to drill into a dead tree and lay it's eggs which then parasitize the larvae of another type of wasp living in the wood. The ichneumon larvae keeps the host larvae alive, while eating it from within. Something which has apparently been disturbing theologians for a long time.

As Annie Dillard wrote in (one of my favorite books) Pilgrim at Tinker Creek :

Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly, and insects, it seems, gotta do one
horrible thing after another.

Still, this living thing was not alien to me, however distasteful it's behavior might seem from a human point of view. Perhaps the mystery of life is not the seeming cruelty or indifference of nature, (the universe, God, etc...) but our own mammalian empathy and compassion. We are the anomaly. Yet we too are part of the this strange mix.

I love nature, and I love the Creator, but I try not to romanticize either. We can't know. Life is bigger than us. That is a hard truth to accept sometimes. Still, it is interesting to study, discover and wonder, in our limited way.

This insect actually looked directly at me, it's head and eyes reminded me of a praying mantis. It looked intelligent, but alien. It's job is necessary. I found it beautiful.

But I'm sure glad I'm not the wasp larvae it will be parasitizing.

Landscape

I've often thought that I would like to paint giant landscapes framed by car windows. This is how we see the landscape now. 

Peonies

These came from our garden, and I wish you could smell them. They smell *so good*! I had never grown peonies before, but the people who owned the house loved them and planted them all around. When they bloomed that first year I was amazed, and I still feel that way every spring.

Peonies are fleeting. The blooms are over-the-top fabulous for only a week or so in early June, and then they shatter and turn to lots of wet pink kleenex all over the place. Very messy. But I think they are well worth it.

It's Nettle Time Again

I began this blog a year ago at nettle time. One of my first posts was about gathering nettles at my friend Liz's house last May. Here I am again! Last weekend I went to Liz's to get some more nettles.

Don't they look lovely and healthy? And nettle tea helps keep me healthy. I knelt down in the grass to meditate and communicate gratitude to the plants. I gave them a pinch of tobacco. I felt a little self-conscious, since Liz stood nearby, and I know she doesn't share my view of plants. But even so, I felt the plants' particular energy. Having drunk nettle tea all year, it was easier to tune in to their beauty.

As I gathered them I wore gloves, but my arms were bare. Liz was surprised that I wasn't bothered by the stings. I got a few on my wrists and forearms, but they were mostly just itchy to me, like mosquito bites. I guess to her they are very painful.

She shook her head at me as I went about my work. I showed her (again) how the dock plants growing nearby can be used to stop the nettle stings. She commented that she was always trying to get rid of the dock and how hard it is because it has such deep roots. I told her that the young dock greens could be cooked for food and how the roots could be tinctured. I told her they were nutritious and excellent for building iron in the blood. Her son, Joel, who is 8 stood nearby. He said: "Those are weeds. We don't eat weeds". I could tell that was Liz's view too.

On the other hand, Joel seemed interested in my little ritual, and asked if he could give the plants a pinch of tobacco too, so I showed him how. Despite his declaration about the "weeds" maybe he will see another perspective later on.

I asked Liz if she had tried eating any of the nettles last year, or making tea out of them. She said no, and told me that after I left, her husband would mow down this patch with a weed wacker. I was kind of upset by that, but she said "Oh don't worry, they grow back. That's prob. why these are so healthy, they get mowed all the time!" And I guess I can understand that she doesn't want them to spread, since her kids play in the yard.

Then we went inside to make some mint tea (apparently a "weed" that makes acceptable tea!) and brought it outside to drink under the tall lilac bushes. We observed a little bird going in and out and discovered 2 nests in the bush. I don't know what kind of bird it was, maybe a flycatcher? It was too quick for me to get a picture. We also watched a swallowtail butterfly in the lilacs. Our kids played together. We had a nice visit.

I like Liz, and I like her land. I do appreciate her sharing it with me. I hunt there in the fall too. We've known each other since High School. We used to always talk about having a farm. We both have big vegetable gardens. Liz studied sustainable agriculture in college. She worked with the Heifer Project in Africa.

But I feel sort of bad sometimes when I realize that she probably thinks I'm a little crazy. Well, I suppose I am. But not as crazy as I may seem. The things I do are things our ancestors did, it's only recently (in span of human existance) that we don't do these things anymore and we find them strange.

While I keep a garden, I guess I am also incorporating a kind of hunter-gatherer spirituality in my life that seems alien to most people in our culture. Maybe she thinks it's phony or something. It's not phony to me, though. It seems like the most natural thing in the world to me. The more I express my true feelings and self, the more strange I must appear to others. Even those who I thought would understand.

Oh well, I guess that's part of getting older. Things that are in us just have to come out eventually, whether or not other people find them odd.

swallowtail

 

nest 1

 

Heron....almost

Sometimes I think I should call this blog: "Things I *almost* got a picture of"!

You can sort of see the blurry great blue heron as it flys off. This was right behind my garden, in my backyard.

I was getting ready for work when I heard Betsy give an excited little bark that sounded different from her normal "Let me in" bark. I went to look and there was the heron, fishing in the creek. I snuck around to the back porch with the camera and just caught it taking off.

Sorry this is such a totally crappy picture. It was taken through the porch window at a distance of about 100 yards, and the bird was in motion.

I've seen them in the creek many times, but I've never been quick enough to get a picture.

Sadly, this in no way captures the feeling of seeing this huge bird in your own backyard. I wish I could have shown its shrew efficient zen stillness as it poised looking for frogs and minnows. I wish I could have shown it's narrow tallness, it was as tall as Danny. I wish I could have captured it's nervous awareness that it was being watched, looking around, not seeing me but feeling me watching it. I wish I could show you it's grand prehistoric wingspan as it flew up. But this blurry image is all I have to show.

BTW: If you should ever want to help an injured heron, or one trapped in the ice or in a net: be aware that their first instinct is to aim that dagger sharp beak right for your human eyeball, and pluck it right out of your head.

Corn

Maize Festival by Diego Rivera

I had a dream last night that I was having a long conversation with President Bush about GM corn.

Now, believe me, if I had a chance to have a real life convo with Bush, I'd be giving him a piece of my mind on *many* subjects, and corn would probably not be one of them! However, the person we are in dreams is different than the person we are in waking life, it seems. Shadowy, vague, unsubstantial, yet powerful in ways that we are not, and having motivations that are different from the motivations of the person awake.

So I talked to him about GM corn. Corn is the grain of this North American continent. The original wild strains of maize are thought to have come from Mexico. People there call it "Teosinte" and "Mother of Maize". I told him that this plant was very important, spiritually, to this continent, and that genetically modified transgenes that contaminated it could have a very negative, even disastrous effect on our country.

He actually listened and took this seriously, which surprised me. Perhaps he is different in the dream world too.

Bridal Veil

Pretty, isn't it?

Aphids. Do they really harm roses?

Because we've got a lot of them. Do I need to spray them off with a hose, or some kind of detergent/cayenne pepper/tobacco type thing? If I leave them there, what will they do?

These days, my gardening motto seems to be "wait and see". Watch. Observe. Wait. It seems like those aphids are food for something. They have their own reasons for being too. Why disturb them? The bush looks very healthy and it's covered with buds. It looks so healthy I think it wants to take over the front garden!

Besides, the truth is, I'm curious to know more about these tiny green suckers. Georgia Okeefe said: "No one ever really looks at a flower." I wonder, does anyone ever really look at bugs?

Poppies

These may be Opium poppies. They came with the house. Big reddish-orange things. I used to try to dig them up but they always came back. I've grown to like them.

The buds seem kind of phallic to me.

Weedy weed.

I have a big affection for this fuzzy weed growing by our old well. I think it's mullien? If so, it can be used as a smudge, like sage. Used to treat bronchial inflammation. Also good to make into an oil for earaches. I'll save some for the winter.

When our old well failed in 2004, it was a big trauma/drama for us, so somehow I feel this plant is growing right there as a sign of healing.

Hosta, one of many.

I like this variety, with the big thick leaves. I'm not sure what it is. My garden markers have washed away. Plenty of forget-me- not's growing there too.

Bush on Global Warming.

Will Ferrell - Bush on Global Warming (from Transbuddha) This is so hilarious.

You have to turn on your speakers for this one. It gets funnier and funnier as it goes along.

Nature's first green is gold...

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
-- Robert Frost

Cherry Blossom Time

I smelled the cherry blossoms today and they didn't smell at all the way I thought they would. They smell a little bit like honey, and oddly: a little bit like pepperoni!

Lots of honeybees buzzing around them. The peaches are blossoming too, they are pink. I'll take some pics of them later.

Taking a break from blogging...

Hi guys! Sorry I haven't been updating my blog. I have been so busy with the Environmental Biology class I'm taking, I don't really have the time to keep up with it. However, I will return at the end of the semester, in early May. And when I do, I'll have a lot to say about nature and ecology. I'm learning a lot and thinking a lot, and I will be back. So please don't forget me! :-)

I may post a few things between now and then, but only sporadically.

One thing I'd like to say that I learned in my class is this:

If global warming continues as it's expected to, there may not be any more sugar maples in NY State. They need a cold period, apparently. No more maple syrup industry in NY, no more brilliant color in the fall, no more little "helicopter" seed pods fluttering to the ground. No more sticking them to your nose. No more canopy of green leafy maples arching over the streets. I can't imagine that.

I'll be an old woman by then and my son will be 48 years old. We'll be the old farts telling younger people how beautiful the maples used to be in NY, and they'll think it's normal that you have to drive much further north to see them.

Maybe this isn't as drastic as some of the other predicted harm that may come from global warming, but it struck home with me. I am intimately connected with the plants in my little area of the world. The sugar maple is that ubiquitous tree we all love, yet take for granted. How could it leave us? It hits me hard. I feel so sad about that.

UPDATE: Hey, guess what? I just came from an awesome workshop with this old retired veterinarian, Alcott Smith, who is FULL of woodslore and natural history knowledge, and we talked a bit about global warming and I asked him about the maples and he said it's not all the maples that will be affected, just the sugar maples. They need a temp of 34 degrees F to germinate. He said it's prob true that they won't be in this area anymore, but at least we'll still have some other maples, like red maples. Just thought I'd let you know. :-) Love to all of you.

X Country skiing pic 9

The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

X Country skiing pic 8

X Country skiing pic 7

Still some green moss and ferns under the snow. 

X Country skiing pic 6

 

X Country skiing pic 5

Many of the trails go right along the rushing creek. 

X Country skiing pic 4

Pretty, eh? 

X Country skiing pic 2

That's little Danny skiing ahead of me on the trail. 

X Country skiing pic 1

 

My new exercise machine!

This is my birthday and Christmas present - the Country Living Grain Mill. I've wanted one for years, I'm so excited! Dave also bought me the cute little cabinet it's mounted on, and I have already filled it up with grain.

This is what the whole wheat flour looks like after grinding.

Why would I want to grind my own flour? It is a lot more work then buying bread in the store.

But, it's tastier and healthier. I tried the low-carb diets, and I lost weight quickly, but I couldn't stick to it. Bread is the staff of life, but the kind you buy in the supermarket is made from flour that is old, has lost most of it's nutrients, and has often had the bran and germ removed. Also, the way it is ground heats it up to the point that many nutrients are lost. It also loses flavor. This flour is fresh, it contains all the parts of the grain. I bought organic hard spring wheat from Sun Organic Farm.

Homemade bread, right out of the oven.

The smell was soooooooo yummy. Nothing like that smell of baking bread!

I used a terra cotta breadpan for one of them. I love the way it makes the crust nice and crisp and the inside steamy and tender. I plan to get another one soon.

Mmmm. Fresh bread.

It didn't rise as much as I wanted it to, but I'm still learning. I have some plans for geting my next batch to rise higher.

It was delicious!

Sorry I'm not around as much lately!

Hi Everyone! I'm taking a Biology class this semester so I'm kinda busy, but I'll try to get some blogging in soon. I want to tell you all about how Dave bought me a grain mill for Christmas and I've been grinding my own grain and baking homemade bread, and stuff like that. Also, I want to show you my knitting, and take some pictures of the beautiful spot where Danny and I are going cross-country skiiing lately. I hope to post some stuff this weekend.

In the meantime, my dearest pal Joanna has a new blog I want you all to read, called Teach Choice. Check it out!!! :-)

Ok, now I must go look at tiny little creatures under microscopes. Yay! See ya later.

I am a margarita! :-)

You Are a Margarita

You aren't just the life of the party, you are the party!You mix a good drink, bust out some great music, and know how to get down.

What Mixed Drink Are You?

Borrowed this quiz from "Do Not Enter the Tearoom". :-)

It says I am my favorite drink! Mmmmm. Wish I had one right now. With salt.

Tulsi Tea

Tulsi is a new friend to me. She refreshes me, smells and tastes good, clears the mucus from my lungs, nose, and throat, calms my cough, makes me feel warm inside. What more could I ask for in a friend?

http://www.yogitimes.com/12_2005/aromatherapy.html

http://www.omorganics.com/product_pages/teas.htm

http://www.horizonherbs.com/tulsi-seed-plant.html

Sick

Sorry I haven't posted. We have the flu.

Not the pseudo-flu, but the real-honest-to-God-used-to-kill-people-fever-of-103-body-aches--teeth-chattering-chills-headache-hacking-unproductive-cough-choking-on-phlem-can't-breathe- sleep-all-day-in-sweaty-sheets-and-beg-for-mercy-influenza.

All three of us.

Yuck.

Send us some good thoughts, will ya? Thanks.

Soldiers-per-gallon

http://store.pomosideshow.com/

I just received these bumper stickers. I put one on my car and one on the door of my office.

Carl the cataloguer says my tires might get slashed. Ah well, you gotta do what ya gotta do! :-)

3 Quick Things To Say...

I have just a few minutes and 3 things to tell you guys.

1) Danny and I started cross-country skiing on Sat and we love it! It's so fun and it's great exercise. It was a beautiful, sunny, cold day with snow, and pine trees, and a half-frozen creek, and little birds all around. When I woke up the next day I had pains in muscles I didn't know I had. :-) We will do it again next week.

2) You know you truly love someone when you hear these words in the middle of the night: "Mommy, I threw up in my bed!" and a little boy in pukey pajamas comes into your room and wakes you from a sound sleep and tells you his bed is "covered in throw up", so you get up and help him clean up and get new pajamas, sheets and pillows, all the while gagging yourself. And no matter how gross it is, you are more concerned with how that little person feels than with your own discomfort. That's love. I did that last night.

3) I'm taking a class in environmental biology this coming semester! I'm a little scared. I'm an arts and humanities type so wish me luck!

That's it! Gotta read bedtime stories with Danny.

January 8th Will Be Guerilla Impeachment Day!

Jan 8 is the day to tell everyone you think Bush should be impeached. Make some stickers and/or signs and stick them in public places.

I'm planning to participate in this. In fact, I couldn't wait so I've already made some stickers and placed them around my town. I've given out stickers to some friends who say they'll do it too. It only takes a few minutes to do and it made me feel better.

I recommend it - if for no other reason than it provides some much needed stress-relief. :-)

Frozen Lake

 

Winter sunset

 

Hahahahahaha!

We saw this giant woody-woodpecker in my Nana's backyard in Northern New Jersey.

Gray Christmas

 

Foggy Christmas

 

Missing Mink

Tried to get a pic of the little mink who was playing in the water of the creek on Christmas Day. He dove under water and popped back up again, but I never could capture him with the camera. Still, it was cool. Pop! Goes the weasel! 

Happy Holidays!

These crazy little snowmen were made by Danny and his friend while they were waiting for the schoolbus the other day. They got a little melted before I could take their pictures, but I thought I'd share them anyway!

Hope you are having a wonderful holiday, however you celebrate. Peace. 

Red-tailed Hawk Returns...

Remember how I told you guys a few weeks ago about the red-tailed hawk that flew down from a tree and over the hood of my car, right in front of my windshield, for several minutes? Well, the SAME THING happened again on Sunday. Isn't that weird?

I was in the passenger's seat this time, and it flew directly in front of me, I was so afraid we would hit it. It was really close.

The oddest thing was, Dave, (who was driving), didn't even see it! He had his sun visor down and I guess it blocked his view. Danny was in the backseat and he saw it though.

What's up with that? Do hawks normally swoop down into traffic and fly right in front of the windshield of cars? If so, why?

Maybe this is a mysterious hawk-message I need to investigate.

We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout... [UPDATED]

I have that song stuck in my head today. I was singing it in the car on my way to work. I loved these guys, who didn't? Who could NOT love them?

I think I'm going to go see "Walk the Line" finally. I know nobody but nobody could really play either one of them, but I think I want to see it anyway.


UPDATE:

So we went to see Walk the Line last night. I liked it! I had this mental block about the movie because I said to myself: "nobody can play them", but then it dawned on me:"Well, *duh*, so what? Get over it." So I did.

I think Joaquin Phoenix really did a very good job. He was actually better than I expected him to be. Dave didn't like the movie and said he thought that Phoenix overacted and "chewed up the scenery" throughout the movie. This is kind of true in a way, yet it somehow worked for me. Yes, he did a little too much brooding, snarling and lip curling, yes he swaggers and poses a bit too much... but he kind of had to, in a way.

It's ironic, since I associate Johnny Cash with a kind of understatement and substance-over-style... yet he was also so naturally charismatic that in order to give him that large presence that most people just don't have, Phoenix had to overdo it. Does that make sense?

And, as Rusty points out in the comments below, Cash was a performer, and I'm sure at least some of his own gestures and mannerisms were studied. It's just that he was subtle enough in doing it that it seemed utterly convincing. Phoenix may fall short at times, but I think he does as good a job as any actor could do in that role.

Those are big shoes to fill, and a big voice too. As for the singing, Phoenix's voice isn't as deep as Johnnys, so he has to reach for it. He missed a few notes, but he does a decent job. At points, it's great!

Now, I'm biased, since I hold her in even higher regard, but I was a little disappointed in the choice of Reese Witherspoon to play June. I know the critics loved her. I think she's a really good actress, she obviously gave it her all, she had tremendous energy, skillful timing and even sang like June.

The thing is, Witherspoon is just too cute to play June. She doesn't have that slightly goofy-amazing-grace that June had. I kind of wish they had picked some unknown actress who had that quality instead.

June, (even more than Johnny, and that's saying a lot!) personified that quality of wabi-sabi that I love. She was both hillbilly-homely and radiantly beautiful at the same time. She was so unapologetically herself that she embodied the essence of "cool" to me, whatever that is.

I think Witherspoon made June seem too perfect, a little too calculating. Watching Walk the Line, it's obvious that he is crazy about her, but not that she is equally crazy about him. They do have chemistry on screen, but it mostly seems to flow from him to her. He comes across and a psycho-drug-mess, and she as an hard-headed angel. I know that's part of their mythology, but I think they could have tried to show a little more than that.

If you listen to the lyrics of "Ring of Fire", you know she was totally madly in love with this man who was married. It was an inner moral struggle. I think she really feared going to hell. The movie gives me the impression that she was just afraid of public disapproval for being perceived as a "homewrecker". I think that sells her short. I also think Vivian, Johnny's first wife, is shown in a poor light.

Still, overall, Walk the Line was enjoyable. There are some great moments in it, it's funny and touching and and the music is rocking. It's T-Bone Burnett just as much as it is Johnny Cash, but it's still good.

Of course, nobody could really be like Johnny and June, they were each so unique and so authentically themselves. But I've decided that's ok with me. I see the movie as sort of a tribute to them, and I'm glad there is one.

Uncle Kevin's Socks

I finally finished these giant socks for my Uncle Kevin. I've been working on them off-and-on since about last year at this time. (People often ask me how long it takes to make things and it's hard to say, since I knit a bunch of different things at once, and often stop a project for months, only to pick it up again. )

Kevin is my favorite uncle (even if he is a Republican!). He's a charming and lovable guy. He tells funny, colorful, unpredictable stories with ease, and he has a fine singing voice too. Both of these qualities are enhanced by a few beers, which he does enjoy. At every family gathering he and my dad would get a little buzzed and sing very loud. For some reason this upset their wives, who would try to get them to shut up, but we kids loved it.

I can't hear: "Bye-bye Miss American Pie", "Blue Moon", "Molly Malone", "Sea Cruise" or any Beatle's tune without thinking of him. He gave me my first record albums: the Beatle's Abbey Rd and Sgt. Pepper's, and I listened to them a million times.

He's very Irish, and I love that about him. He's a lifelong local politician and attorney. Also a former judge, so he married my husband and I. He also helped us with the closing on our house, and always gives me legal advice for free. I'm happy to be mature enough now to recognize that he won't be around forever, and I should do something to show him I love him and I appreciate how much he means to me. He's had a bad case of Lyme disease lately, so I worry about him.

When I first tried to learn to knit there was much cursing, ripping back and feeling discouraged, but my uncle was very interested in my progress, and always asked me to knit him some heavy wool "hunting socks" (he doesn't hunt, he just calls them that). He described watching his grandmother knitting such socks for him, and every so often taking a sip of the whiskey she kept in the cabinet.

He kept pestering me about the socks, but back then I wondered if I'd ever learn to knit at all, let alone make socks on 4 double-pointed needles, or "turn a heel". I did want to though. I appreciated that he cared, and didn't just say: "Why don't' you just buy some socks, what's the point of trying to make them?" like the rest of my family did.

"What color should I make them?" I asked. "The color doesn't matter, any color. But really thick socks" he'd say, "made of wool".

As I persisted and was frustrated, and one night, at a certain point I felt my hands guided, as though by another pair of older woman's hands. Was it the hands of my sock-knitting, whiskey-drinking great-grandmother, from Co. Galway, who I never met? Or just developing muscle memory and motor neurons? Who knows? But I like to think it was her, and maybe she taught me so that I could finally make these socks for Uncle Kev. After that, my knitting improved dramatically.

Kevin is over six feet tall and has size 13 feet. These socks are so big they look silly! But I had him measure his feet, so I think they are right. Even if they are a little big, it's not hard to shrink them in the wash.

There is a story my mother always tells about how my uncle came to visit us when my dad was stationed in the Air Force at Waco Tx, and our dog, Rain, a German Shepherd puppy, chewed up his shoes. He had to go home on the plane wearing a pair of my dad's shoes, which were way too small. His heels hung off the back.

He's very skinny too, so I hope I didn't make the calves too big. (I have huge-former-waitress-calves, so I tend to make them on the big side, but he has string bean legs. )

The pattern was from my favorite, and most used knitting book: The Knitter's Handy Book of Patterns by Ann Budd.

The yarn is a strand of gray Icelandic wool from Tongue River Farms (this is awesome yarn BTW, I bought it at the NY Sheep and Wool festival a few years ago, and I liked it so much I bought a bunch more of their yarn this year). and a strand of natural Brown Sheep Nature Spun sport weight held together to get that rag-wool look. They are really, really soft and not scratchy at all.

The idea of making the cuff, heel and toe natural and the rest of the sock gray came from Folk Socks: The History & Techniques of Handknitted Footwear by Nancy Bush. It's a traditional Irish/Scottish/Welsh type color combination. The author describes knitting a pair of socks like this in Wales, and an older man coming up to her and saying "My mother used to knit socks just like that".

I plan to wrap them with a big red satin ribbon and send them soon. I hope he likes them!

Voices of Katrina Survivors - Race, oppression and murder.

I try not to dwell on politics, world events, etc., not because I am apolitical -- actually just the opposite. I have a tendency to get so caught up in worry, rage, despair etc. about these things that sometimes I can barely function in my own personal life, and I have to make an effort to avoid that state of mind. That's one of the reasons why I made this blog, to focus on the positive, on my spiritual side and on my connection with nature, which gives me strength.

However, once and awhile I have to make an exception, and let my feelings out because I can't hold them in, and this is one of those days.

Amy Goodman is my hero and role model. I try to listen to her radio show as often as I can. I feel she is one of the only journalists who has any integrity these days. This morning I listened to her show in the car on my way to work. As I listened to the voices and stories of black people who survived being kept in an armed camp, dehydrated, threatened and starved by our federal government, during a crisis in which those very government agencies were supposedly "helping" them, day by day white people selected out of the crowd to be relocated elsewhere... a piercing pain split my head and tears seeped from the corners of my eyes. I feel so enraged by this. My head is still killing me.

One woman said: "They really left us there to die, and the only thing that they didn't expect was how many of us did survive.."

Once again, as I have felt so many times, I am ashamed to be white in this racist country. I am furious. After all we've been through, after the Civil Rights movement haven't we learned one fucking thing?

And once again, the mainstream media doesn't allow the voices of the oppressed to be heard.

Please listen to the download of this program if you have a chance. We need to hear these voices. Only by shining light on these things and talking about them openly can we ever hope to get to a better place.

The Master Key

I think this is interesting. A little New Agey, but hey, that never stopped me before! :-)

www.GiveMeTheMasterKey.com

Check it out!

Weekend Update (no Tina Fey, sorry!)

On Friday Danny was a play at school that he and his friends made up. It was called "Utica on a School Night". It's about a group of kids who go to Utica (on a school night, natch) to see a rock concert, by a band called "The Centipedes". The band is late, and when they do arrive, they suck. The audience heckles them. The band apologizes and says they will play at their house for free. The audience is placated. The end. Danny played a "Rockin' out Grandpa". He went up to the band and said: "You Suck!" in an old-guy voice. It was pretty silly.

Saturday we just hung around in our pajamas all day and relaxed by the woodstove. I hennaed my hair. I should have been hunting but I didn't feel like it. At night we watched a documentary called "Hell House", about the Christian Right making these "Haunted Houses" to show what happens to sinners in hell. It was wacky.

Yesterday we were going to go with some of our friends to cut down a Christmas tree, but Ginny's father (who lived with them and who they were taking care of, he was very old) passed away in Sat. morning. The poor things. They really loved him.

It's so weird because Joanna's dad died last year right around Christmas too. What's with people dropping dead around the holidays? This is corny, but I had the radio on Sunday morning, listening to Christmas carols at breakfast, and James Taylor was singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas", and he changed the lyrics a bit, to "Throught the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow, if not we'll have to muddle through somehow..." and I thought how sad that was, then I called Ginny and heard her sad news... Ah well.

We put up the artificial tree we had in the garage and decorated the house. I put eggnog in my coffee. It was delicious. I tasted the fruitcake, alas: it was soggy. Too much booze perhaps? :-(

I went to the pet store and bought Danny a beta fish and a little tank to put it in. He named it Charles.

I also went to the supermarket and bought roasted chickens and mashed potatoes and other stuff to bring to Ginny's house, since no one wants to cook when they are grieving. And all those neighbors stop by and you have to feed them something.

This morning I discovered that my wallet is missing.

I went back to the supermarket this morning and they had the transaction on video, and it shows I put my wallet back into my pocket as I left. So it either 1) fell out of my pocket in the parking lot or in my car (I've searched my car 500 times) 2) was pickpocketed on my way out of the store or in the parking lot (I don't remember anyone following me, but I guess it could happen) 3) fell out of my pocket somewhere at Ginny's house (she can't find it) or 4) it's somewhere at home, although this seems unlikely since I normally keep it in my jacket pocket and had no reason to take it out (plus I've searched everywhere). I went to the bank this morning and cancelled my debit card. Bummer, but it could be worse I suppose!

How was your weekend?

UPDATE: I found my wallet! It was in my friend's driveway, all frozen, like a wallet-cicle. Everything was in it. What a relief!

Random stuff...

Too busy to blog much lately you guys, but here's a quick summary for any who may be interested:

Thanksgiving: We visited some friends in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont and it was a really nice time, very relaxed and comfortable. We took a long walk in the snow, if you want to see pics, visit my pal Fangmonster's blog.

Deer hunting: No venison yet. For those who might find it offensive, fear not... I'm not very good at it. :-) Also, I haven't had as much time to hunt this year, I've only been out a few times.

My method of hunting is called "still hunting" or "stalking". It's one of the most difficult types of hunting to master. Deer, like cows, must chew their cud, so after feeding they lie down and do that. I move very slowly and quietly, into the wind, and try to sneak up on them in their "beds". I managed to do just that a few weeks ago. (I'm actually kind of proud of myself because this is the first time I've actually done it. Deer are hard to sneak up on. )

I only saw the big rear end of a deer, and the flashing white tail as it leapt away from me! It was close, only about 10 yards or so. I didn't shoot because I will only shoot if I get a clear shot at the vital area. But I thought: "What an excellent rump roast that would be!" :-)

Rather than try to follow it directly (which I decided would be pointless, as deer are a lot faster than humans and always watch their back trail) I decided to follow it along a parallell path, hoping to meet up with it at another point further ahead. But no, that deer was too tricky for me, and dissapered entirely. I tried the same spot a week later, hoping to catch it in it's bed again, but it wasn't there.

My husband says I am making things too hard for myself and that I might be better off next year to get a tree stand. He thinks the chances of being able to shoot a deer while still-hunting are pretty slim. Maybe he's right. I like still-hunting though, plus I think I would be totally cool if I really learn to do it well. I do get a little discourged at times though. Plus, I do actually want some venison, so... maybe next year I'll get a tree stand.

My class: It's almost over, thank God. I'm working on their final exam.

Knitting: I finished a pair of giant wool socks for my dear Uncle Kevin, and I'll put a pic of them up soon. I need to make Dave another pair. I need to knit a hat for my neice, Grace, too.

Now I'm caught up in a flurry of Christmas shopping. Danny wants bongo drums. :-) I just bought some boots for a certain someone I know... :-)

Soon we'll be cross-country skiiing, if we get any snow!

Almost Rifle Season

It's almost rifle season for deer hunting in Upstate NY. About 3 years ago I got this intense desire to hunt whitetailed deer. I have no idea why. The thought had never occurred to me, but it became a persistent thought that wouldn't go away.

As an animal lover, a former vegetarian and member of PETA, and as a mild mannered middle-aged mom and librarian, this seemed completely out of character for me. I didn't grow up in a hunting family, and I didn't know anyone who hunted. I was afraid of guns. Yet I couldn't shake this feeling that this was something I was supposed to do. I feel the earth speaks to me sometimes, and in this case, it was something I couldn't ignore.

When you get to your mid-30's a weird thing happens. It's like these buried parts of yourself you didn't even know you had come to the surface, and you can accept them. Maybe you just realize that life is ephemeral and you might as well enjoy whatever weird thing it is you really like, no matter what anyone else thinks about it.

I started reading about it and became even more obsessed. I went to a workshop called "Becoming an Outdoors Woman", and fired a rifle for the first time. I was a good shot. They gave me a little pin as a award for being the best shooter. They called it "the Annie Oakley Award". It said: "Girls with guns have more fun". LOL.

I learned how to gut a deer. None of the other women who signed up for that part wanted to do it, so I did it. I was surprised that I wasn't shocked or upset by it, but I didn't like the smell!

I learned about the natural history of deer, their habits, ways to track them. I'm still learning that.

I bought a Ruger .243 and joined a hunting club. I practiced despite being intimidated by the old guys there who seem to think I'm a curiosity and stand behind me while I'm shooting with their arms folded, just staring. I need to practice more, though. Being able to shoot from the bench is very different from shooting in the field, offhand, kneeling, sitting or lying down.

I bought hunting clothing that I only wear once a year. I wash it with special soap and hang it out in a tree to dry.

I take time off from work for this. But not as much as I wish I could! :-)

I love it. I still haven't actually shot a deer, but I will. Maybe this will be the year. There is a lot more I want to write about this, but I'll save it for another post.

One thing I was to say is: the hours I've spent deer hunting have been some of the happiest of my life. The way I feel alone in the woods, just observing, smelling, listening... it's a kind of alive like no other.

I will try to share some of this with you guys over the next month or so.

November

 

October in Upstate NY is so colorful, but November is beautiful in another way. Maybe I prefer it?

 

I think this is called teasel.

 

I'm always facinated by the way the light illuminates the dried grasses and seedheads, but it's so hard to capture.

 

Can you see the doe? (This is actually a closeup, she was about 100 yards away).

 

Here she is!

 

Old field grown up... deer can melt into this without a trace. Who knows how many are hiding here?

Oak leaves are the last to fall.

 

Mysterious seedheads....some kind of fern?

These are rose hips, I think?

Crabapples?

Hypotenuse

 

Magical Almost-Twilight

 

Whoosh....

 

Milkweed pods with fluff

 

Milkweed pods

 

Milkweed fluff

 

Empty milkweed pods

 

There I go again I'm all verklempt. Talk amongst yourselves. ...

Ok, I just got an email from one of my students asking me for help and at the end of his email he wrote this:

"...I don't want to do something wrong and get a bad grade on
this paper. It seems like out of nowhere I have 5 papers due all
at once. If it wasn't for the information literacy class I would be
totally lost. Thanks for the help."

I literally started tearing up. I'm really verklempt! LOL. I'm such a dork.

I put a lot of work into this class and sometimes I wonder why I do it. The students generally complain about the work they have to do, it's so rare that someone says my class is helping them. Jeez. Thank you kid, you don't know how much this means to me.

Children's Picture Books I Have Loved...

Dear Cjblue asked me for children's book recommendations. Being a librarian, how can I refuse? :-)

Besides, it's getting near Christmas, and you may know some little people who you'd like to read some books with.

Danny is almost too old for picture books now, (which is sad, because I love them so much). But there are still some we read again and again.

These are ones that come to mind for me as really beautiful picture books for kids who are about 5-8 years old.

The Gullywasher (Chaparron Torrencial) by Joyce Rossi
Pink and Say by Patricia Polacco
Somebody Loves You, Mr. Hatch by Eileen Spinelli
Old Turtle by Douglas Wood
Old Coyote by Nancy Wood
The Tenth Good Thing About Barney by Judith Viorst
Thinking About Ants by Barbara Brenner
The Lady and the Spider by Faith McNulty
The Paperboy by Dav Pilkey
The Nightingale by Hans Christian, illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline

Also, anything by Joseph Bruchac or Paul Goble.

And of course, we loved various illustrated versions of Alice in Wonderland, Robin Hood, King Arthur, The Wizard of Oz and all the Greek, Roman and Norse mythology. The Bible too.

For littler kids, you must get:

All About Alfie by Shirley Hughes (any of her Alfie and Annie Rose books are awesome, actually)
Only the Cat Saw by Ashley Wolff

and of course: Voyage to the Bunny Planet [BOX SET] by Rosemary Wells

Danny and I are reading a lot more chapter books these days, there are many good ones I could mention, but I'll save that for another post. :-)

What are some of your favorite children's books?

Election Fraud

My boss just told me about this:

"The latest critical confirmation of key indicators that the election of 2004 was stolen comes in an extremely powerful, penetrating report from the Government Accountability Office that has gotten virtually no mainstream media coverage."

You can read the whole article here:

http://www.freepress.org/departments/display/19/2005/1529

It also has a link at the end to the actual GAO report.

God. Searching Lexis Nexis I can barely find any mention of this. What the hell is wrong with journalism today? What is wrong with our country that we can't impeach/overthrow these crooks?

And what is wrong with me that I sit here numbly staring at the screen feeling blindsided?

Red-Tailed Hawk

Today was the second time when driving along a certain stretch of road on my way to work that a large red tailed hawk has flown low right in front of my car.

Today it was flying just in front of my windshield for at least 3 minutes. I could see it's reddish brown tailfeathers as though it were guiding me. But to where? Then it landed in a tree. I looked over my shoulder to see it. It's a nice specimen of an adult raptor, very healthy looking.

I wish I could have taken a picture of it, esp as it was flying right in front of my car, but I didn't have the camera, so you'll just have to imagine it. It was cool.

Danny and I just read a good book about hawks.

It's fruitcake weather!

Here's a little quiz for you:

1) Do you love the Truman Capote story: "A Christmas Memory" and read it every year, crying at the ending each time?

2) Do you like hard liquor?

3) Do you enjoy tangy desserts made of dried fruits like "mincemeat pie" (the kind without the meat?)

4) Are you in favor of lots of actual butter and actual sugar in your desserts (as opposed to margarine and some fake sugar substitute?)

5) Do you like an opportunity to overindulge and be a hedonist at times?

6) Do you have a stubborn perverse desire to learn traditional skills that most people would find old fashioned, pointless and too much work (such as knitting your own socks or growing your own food)?

7) Are you brave enough to try things that others make fun of?

8) Do you think holiday parties need plentiful booze in many formats?

If you answered and enthusiastic "Yes!" to 2 or more of these questions, you might be a candidate for my new campaign to inspire a love of FRUITCAKE in an apathetic world!

Yes, you too might, in fact, grow to love fruitcake, bake it each year and foist it upon unsuspecting relatives and neighbors.

At least, I'm going to try.

As a kid, all family gatherings involved booze and plenty of it. Sure, we had many family members who were alcoholics, but that was just part of our charm, as far as I was concerned.

I remember fondly how my maternal grandfather always smelled of Dewer's Scotch, and he always had a glint in his eye and a tinkle of ice in his glass. I remember how my paternal grandmother always smelled of Tanqueray and cigarette smoke. They'd always give me sips. I remember how my favorite Uncle liked to drink his beer in a glass. I would sneak behind the back of his chair and drink the amount left in the bottle after he poured it, and soon he would need another. I'd do the same to that one and after a short time I'd be pleasantly high. I loved the strong rum balls my grandmother brought to Christmas and I associated that taste with a good feeling of mild relaxation and giggling. The adults thought it was cute if we kids got a little buzz on, why not?

So the taste of liquor never bothered me. I grew up with it. And it seemed to me that when my family drank at least they weren't so nasty and angry and stressed out and mean as they were sober.

One year my mom made homemade fruitcake. Now, since she was a nurse, afraid of germs and constantly making us wash our hands with Dial antibacterial soap, I think she might have had some fears about the fact that real fruitcake sits wrapped in cheesecloth in the basement for months. Sure there is lots of rum and brandy and sugar to keep it from spoiling, but perhaps a little more alcohol would kill off more germs? Hell, let's just douse the thing with more booze every time we go down into the basement, just to be on the safe side, eh? Don't want to be accused of poisoning anyone!

So the fruitcake was brought up and tasted, and oh, the relatives found it tasty. Strong, but tasty, and tipsy!

And I got to taste it, and I LOVED it. Because it was sweet and spicy and decadent and best of all, boozy. And I've been dreaming of it ever since. But each year, around Christmas time, when I long for it, I remember that you have to make it in advance. It needs time to cure.

So for any of you who've heard many fruitcake jokes over the years but have never tried real fruitcake, let me tell you a little secret: it's all about the booze. I don't care what anyone says, who doesn't love food soaked in rum, brandy, butter and sugar? What's not to love? :-)

Seriously: don't knock it till you've tried it.

This year, I'm finally doing it. I used this recipe I found online, and I have them all wrapped in cheesecloth ready to go. You might even get one. You never know.

Enthobotany is so cool.

I"m home with a lousy cold today, but I just wanted to share this with you guys:

Following up on the discussion (in the comments section of the "galinsoga" post) of poisonous plants and their potential uses, I found this very interesting article.

Someday maybe I'll go back to school to study enthnobotany. :-)

Today's entry is short and sweet.

SOS: Students for an Orwellian Society

Galinsoga

Using field guides, I was able to figure out that this weed, growing so abundantly in our garden, is galinsoga. It's also known as quickweed, gallant soldier and guascas. It's native to Central and South America.

I found out that it's edible, and I also discovered, through a little web research, that it is a very important part of a special Columbian soup called Ajiaco. Maybe I'll try to make it.

A google search turns up a mix of information about this plant. Homesick Colombians and American foodies are seeking this "guascas" to make the soup properly, while farmers are trying to get rid of it, seeing it as a pesty weed!

I cooked it up as part of tonight's dinner. I boiled it for 20 minutes and put some butter and vinegar on it. It was very tasty. How many times have we pulled this plant out and thrown it in the compost heap, not knowing it was food? But it patiently grows back. I'm glad I now know it as a friend.

Any recipes for green tomatos?

We have 3 bowls full like this. Any suggestions? 

poke berries

These are poisonous, BTW. 

bark2

 

bark

 

seedheads

 

fall creek2

 

This one came with a washed out yellow light that I thought was kind of cool

fall creek1

 

Mushrooms by the woodpile

 

Mums and rose leaves

 

Honeybees on Oct 30th.

 

We still have roses!

There are still roses, parsley, green beans (although we let them get too big and tough), celery, kale, a few carrots, lavender, mums... it's such a weird fall. Very warm for the end of October. 

What a beautiful day it was today!

 

Can you see the lettuce peeking out from under the dead leaves?

Some volunteer lettuce. 

I have no idea how to use the digital camera!

This pic, taken at the same time as the one below it, came out so differently. I randomly play with the settings on Dave's camera as I actually have no idea how they work. I think it's interesting how the lighting came out so differently. If anyone knows how I did this, let me know, ok?
:-)

Jalapenos

These jalapenos are the first ones I've ever had ripen till they turned red. They are getting a little dried out now, they've been sitting in this bowl for a few weeks. None are moldy so I think they are still fine. I want to make Lousiana hotsauce out of them if I ever get around to it.

Applesauce.

We like to make this applesauce in the fall.

Here's how we do it.

Put a canning pot full of water on the stove and add 5 empty pint canning jars. Put the lids and rings in a seperate smaller pot of water but don't heat it yet.

Peel, core and chop 1 peck of apples.

It works best if the apples are crisp, tart and sour. You have to add more sugar, but the end result is better. Our tree produces rather tart apples of some unknown variety. I think they may be cortlands.

This year, our apple tree didn't produce any apples, and the ones I bought at the farm stand were a little mealy and overripe. So, I added the juice of 2 lemons and a few dashes of cider vinegar. I added only a teaspoon of sugar or so. If the apples were tart I might have added up to 1/2 a cup.

I put 1/2 the apples into a pot and cooked them over a medium heat. If they aren't juicy enough, add a little water.

As they cook down (and this is variable too, sometimes they cook down fast and sometimes it seems to take forever. This time they cooked down pretty fast) mash them with a potato masher. When they are a pulp, add the other half of the chopped apples. Let that cook down too, and mash it as well. There should be some little lumps of apple in the pulp.

Some years I leave the apples almost all in chunks (like apple pie filling) sometimes it's more of a sauce. This year it's more saucey. Again, it depends on the apples. Mealy apples are better this way, crisp apples are better in chunks. I have fears that the chunky apples could leave air bubbles in between the fruit, causing it to spoil, so I add more water when I do it that way, and more sugar too. This year I didn't have to worry about it.

Spices: I put in a mix, which also changes from year to year. It tends to be mostly cinnamon, but I also add nutmeg, allspice, ginger, cardamom, salt, a tiny pinch of cayenne pepper, all kinds of things... BUT, the trick is, not to overdo the spices. I have an empty jar labled "apple pie spice" and I add the mix of spices to the jar, put the lid on and shake. Then I put it into the sauce a pinch at a time, tasting it all the while. I want the spices to just make the apples taste a little more "appley", but not to take over. I think I put in about 1/2 teaspoon all together this time. Maybe even less. Sometimes I get all carried away and put in too much spice but this time I was careful, and I like the result better.

By now your canning pot should be boiling. If not, wait till it is. The water should almost fill the pot, BTW. In the smaller pot, heat the lids and rings but don't boil them.

Spoon hot sauce into the jars (I use a sterilized funnel to make it easier) and wipe the edges of the jars with a clean, damp napkin. Put on the lids and rings. Lower the jars into canning bath, put the lid on the canning pot and set the timer for 20 minutes.

When the bell rings, take the jars out with tongs and set them on a clean dishcloth on the counter overnight. Don't tighten the lids. Don't turnt he jars over. Just let them sit there and admire them. When you wake up the next day, put them in the basement. When it's spring and you're dying for a nice apple but there aren't any left that really taste like apples, take the jar out and open it. You will be happy.

Rasta sheep

Yes Sir, Yes Sir, Three Bags Full...

As a knitter, (and most knitters can relate to this) I am obsessed with yarn. I love to feel it, smell it, look at it and adore it. I have trunks and closets full of wool yarn and I just want more and more. My favorite kind of yarn is that made by local sheep farmers who spin and dye their own wool. Therefore, better than Christmas for me is the day I visit the yearly New York State Sheep and Wool Festival. And guess what? That day was yesterday!

Now, another thing that adds to my anticipation and love of this event is that, traditionally, I attend it with one of my favorite people: my best pal Joanna, (who taught me to knit and who also loves yarn). Joanna lives in Manhattan and I live Upstate, so the Sheep and Wool Festival (which takes place in Rhinebeck) is a half way point for us.

Traditionally, we meet at the Poughkeepsie Train Station and traditionally, I am late. This time I brought a thermos of (still hot) Earl Grey (J's fav) tea with me to pacify her and I think it worked.

We get to hang out all day talking about and enjoy sheep, alpacas, goats, bunnies, border collies and most of all YARN. We get compare and love yarn from all over New York State and meet the people who make it.

There are people spinning, knitting, and wearing handknitted sweaters, scarves, hats and shawls. There is delicious locally grown lamb to eat (although Joanna is a vegetarian so she always gets a baked potato and steamed spinach with garlic instead). Joanna is also a little freaked out by the many sheepskin/shearling things for sale, but I happily bought some slippers that are amazingly soft and cozy. (We are both animal lovers, but my love of animals doesn't keep me from eating and wearing them, I guess!) There is yarn galore, of every type and color, and roving and fleeces for spinning. We compare, contrast, discuss, smell and touch, and also: BUY. We always spend more than we should.

This year we also got to see the sheepdog trials, which I always want to see but never seem to get to. It's so cool how the prey drive is so controlled in those border collies, they can chase the sheep in such a way as to get them to go where they want, but not frighten them too much and curb their natural instinct to bite them. Joanna and I agreed that border collies are the coolest dogs (well, except for my dog, Besty of course!). There were adorable border collie puppies for sale too but we had to resist them. We both know they would need more space, land, time and attention than we could give them.

One of the best things about the Sheep and Wool Festival is, we have a good excuse to hang out together ALL DAY doing something we both like to do without anyone to bother us or interrupt our happy knitting obsession. :-) We love our husbands, and I love my son, but it's so rare we get a chance to be "just us". This year we even stayed late and went to a delicious dinner afterwards at the Terrapin Restaurant.

I have tons of cool pictures, which I will try to post later this week.

I now have bags full of beautiful, sheepy smelling, handspun yarn. Better still, I have even more happy memories of a great day spent with my best buddy. I am a happy, happy woman.

Yeah, it's yarn. We love it.

 

Angora yarn is soooooo divine. That's Joanna's lovely hand. :-)

 

Llama puppets!

 

Mittens

 

Angora rabbit

 

I want....

 

Who could resist this face?

 

In the zone.

 

Yummy yarn.

 

Lace Scarf

 

Mmmm. More wooley sweaters.

 

Hand hooked rug

 

Coat of many colors.

 

I loved this yarn but they were sold out of it. Such lovely colors.

 

Red white and blue. And Green.

 

Sweater

 

Doesn't she look happy? I want to learn to spin.

 

Border collie pup

 

Spinning

 

Bet you wish you had some cozy homemade socks!

 

Haircut!

 

They look so gentle.

 

This guy was funny. He had a lot to say!

 

Sheep1

 

Lady Spinning

 

Hahaha. This is so true! (Well... except for the "puritanical work ethic " part...)

You are 'growing one's own food'.

You are guided by two words: 'Live simply.' You
value quality over quantity in most things, and
you have little use for the materialism and
consumerism of modern culture. You know the
value of hard work and try to be
self-sufficient as much as possible, and what
you do you do well. Unfortunately, no man is
an island, and you cannot do everything
yourself. Your puritanical work ethic makes
makes people think that you are weird, and not
much fun. Your problem is that growing one's
own food has been obsolete for a long time.


What obsolete skill are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Just one cool quote from a movie that is a dream within a dream...

"Now Lady Gregory was Yeats' patron, this Irish person, and though I'd never seen her image, I was just sure that this was the face of Lady Gregory.

So I'm walking along, and Lady Gregory turns to me and says, "Let me explain to you the nature of the universe. Philip K. Dick is right about time, but he's wrong that it's 50 A.D.

Actually, there's only one instant, and it's right now, and it's eternity. And it's an instant in which God is posing a question, and that question is basically, 'Do you want to be one with eternity? Do you want to be in heaven?' And we're all saying, 'No thank you. Not just yet.' And so time actually is just this constant saying No to God's invitation. That's what time is, and it's no more 50 A.D. than it's 2001. There's just this one instant, and that's what we're always in."

Then she tells me that actually, this is the narrative of everyone's life. That behind the phenomenal differences, there is but one story, and that's the story of moving from No to Yes.

All of life is like, "No thank you, no thank you, no thank you," then ultimately it's, "Yes, I give in, yes, I accept, yes, I embrace." That's the journey. Everyone gets to Yes in the end, right?"

— Richard Linklater, "Waking Life"

Columbus Day Weekend

Our friends Joanna and Noah came to visit this weekend. We baked bread, knitted, talked, drank tea, then beer, and stayed indoors near the woodstove. Rainy, cold and damp outside, cozy and warm inside. Didn't have much time to write, but I took some pictures for you guys yesterday.

BTW: last night Dave and I watched "Waking Life", it's really good, check it out! :-)

Can't believe we still have roses in October! This is my favorite rose, Gruss an Achen.  

creek 

I wish I could really show you what the creek behind our house looks like right now. I don't know if this can capture the speed and power of it. It's been raining so much this weekend. I wish you could hear the loud rushing sound of it that we are so used to.  

creek4 

creek3 

creek2 

creek1 

Not too much fall color this year due to the weird weather. Here's a little though.  

Garden is still producing food. I wish I had planted more fall crops this year. Carrots, lettuce, spinach, etc. But at least we have green beans! :-) 

Green beans 

Stickbug on Dave's hand. I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid!  

Stickbug in a tree... can you see it? 

Things that go rasp-y hissing screech in the night....

Lately I have been waking up in the night or the early morning hours (before the sun comes up) and hearing nocturnal animals in our yard. I mentioned in an earlier blog entry about hearing a lot of owls out there lately. Well last night I heard a doozy.

It sounded, to the best of my knowledge, like the rasping hissing rattling scream of the barn owl. It was really loud too! It sounded like it was right in our yard.

I also heard some little chirping sounds around the same time, like a raccoon. Do raccoons make a loud drawn out hissing/screaming sound like that? Or does some other animal?

The thing is, I think barn owls are rare in this part of New York State. I don't really think it was a barn owl, although, who knows? It's the closest I can find to the sound I heard.

I have been looking on the web to see if maybe another (more common NY State) owl might also make this weird sound. I mean, I know their basic calls but often it seems that birds have a repetoire of calls that aren't always the ones commonly thought of as being associated with them.

I wasn't scared, although it did give me a thrilling sense of what and owl must seem like to a mouse, vole or mole. I saw in my minds eye a ghostly owl swooping down from above and its huge talons coming at me...

There is a whole world of stuff going on while we sleep. I wish I had gotten up and poked around in the yard with a flashlight, maybe I would have seen it. I was feeling lazy and sleepy though, and I knew it was cold outside, so I rolled over and stayed under my warm covers. When I hear these nocturnal sounds I'm usually in this dreamy state in between being asleep and awake and the sounds are very surreal.... there is an otherworldly light in the room and I almost feel like I could go back to sleep and be lucid in my dream, or come out of my body and fly out to the owls... Maybe next time I will.




UPDATE: With a little internet searching I have discovered that raccoons do, indeed, sometimes make a hissing/screeching sound which has been compared to the screech of an owl. So I bet that's what it was. I'm a big fan of the raccoons although I don't really want to meet an angry raccoon in a dark alley anytime soon. :-)

Going Tribal?

I watched this show on TV last night that was really interesting. It's called "Going Tribal" and it's on the Discovery channel.

In the episode I watched, this guy goes to Gabon, Africa to meet the Babongo people and be initiated into their religion: Bwiti. The initiation ceremony involves taking the crushed leaves and roots of a certain tree that causes hallucinations and vomiting when ingested.

His trip went on for days. He lies on a mat in a little hut and vomits and hallucinates, while his adopted "father" feeds him more of the root, and helps him through it. The interesting thing about it was how he described his hallucinations as seeming like remembering incidents from his past in which he hurt another person, and seeing and feeling each incident from the perspective of that other person.

I got excited when I heard that because I have always imagined this is kind of what happens to us when we die, kind of like judgment day, only we are judged by our peers, and ultimately: ourselves.

He said the memories/visions were very detailed and seemed utterly real. He said he felt he gained insight into why the other people involved acted the way they did and understood how his actions affected them. He said it was a very humbling experience that brought him tremendous insight.

At the end of this trip he is taken to a place that looks kind of like a small creek and sort of baptized or reborn. The tribe builds a kind of large vulva shaped tunnel out of branches and he crawls through it in the water, while they squeeze his head with a basket and pour more water infused with leaves from the hallucinatory tree over his head. After that there is lots of singing, dancing and laughter. They carry him on their shoulders and say he is now a man.

There are a lot of issues about this show that are thought provoking. My first thought is: We are really missing out on some interesting shit in our culture. We watch this on TV, while for these people, it's normal everyday life.

Also, I think it's interesting that a plant could give a person such a spiritual experience. I do believe more and more that plants are sentient beings and have a lot to teach us. I am interested in herbal medicine, not only in how it can "cure" some sickness on a physical level, or what chemical components supposedly do this, but also, I want to meet the spirit of each plant. I think these beings are very profound.

But then I also think: making a spectacle/entertainment out of something so sacred and meaningful to this particular group of people, making it seem that any person from outside the culture could understand it in a few weeks (or just by watching a 1/2 hour TV show) seems like a way of trivialize them. Also, it's sort of like taking from them their own specific cultural experience and reinterpreting it to them through Western eyes.

Who knows how well it reflects their real rituals/beliefs?

I also can't help but think that even though these people were supposedly a "remote African tribe", they seemed to be pretty hip to Westernization already. It may only be a matter of time before this ritual is lost. At least there is a record of it. Which is good, I guess.

I don't know. But ever since I read those Carlos Castaneda books in high school, I've been fascinated with this kind of thing.

Here is some more information .

Evening star

Hesperus, you bring home all the bright dawn disperses
bring home the sheep, bring home the goat,
bring home the child to it's mother.

- Sappho

Herbal infusion

The last time I went to the Dr. she asked me if I was taking a calcium supplement, now that I'm getting to be middle aged.

Me: "No, but I drink milk".

Dr. "How many glasses of milk do you drink per day?"

Me: "Well... Ummm....... I put a lot in my coffee!"

Dr.: "Uh, no."

I love my Dr. don't get me wrong, she's cool. But I hate vitamins. I forget to take them, and when I remember to take them, it seems like they make me feel like I'm turning into a giant vitamin, you know? Like I smell like a vitamin, I sweat vitamin, I pee vitamin, my breath smells like a vitamin, etc. I just don't like them!

So, I have decided to turn to my normal way of dealing with my body: herbs.

Here's my new calcium routine, so I can (hopefully!) avoid having brittle bones, a broken hip and a hump on my back when I'm old:

Oatstraw and nettle infusion.

The nice thing is, not only will it help prevent osteoporosis, but it may also keep my nerves calm, lower my cholesterol, stabilize my blood sugar levels, increase my energy, make my hair shiny, clear up my skin and a bunch of other good stuff.

I buy the herbs from Red Moon Herbs. I've bought tinctures from them in the past that I really liked.

(Some of you may remember that I dried some nettles in the spring, sadly: they got moldy. Next time I'll dry them in the oven).

I tried drinking my new brew this morning, and it was tasty too. Can't beat that with a stick now, Babe.

I think I need this shirt. :-)

Eagle dreams

It seems that over the past year or so birds have been coming to me in all of their various forms. All different kinds of birds.

Over the summer, I've had a few dreams of a bald eagle.

Earlier in the summer, before we adopted the baby sparrow, I actually had a dream that we were taking care of a baby bird that fell out of it's nest. At one point, the bird fluttered away from me on this porch, and I was trying to find it. I found it at the feet of this bald eagle that was just sitting there on the porch, looking at me. I scooped up the baby bird, afraid that the eagle would hurt it. Then the dream continued. Later when I woke up I thought: "Wow, it didn't even phase me or interest me that this bald eagle was sitting right there on my porch?"

Well after that, I also saw one, down by the Hudson River. I mean a real one, not in a dream. They aren't uncommon, and I see them every so often. Of course it's always cool to see them, but I've never felt a particular connection to them. Maybe my feelings about them are clouded by their symbolism. I haven't been feeling very patriotic for a long time now, (thanks to GWB) and Dave and I still seriously talk of leaving the country.

This eagle appeared in my dreams again last night. This time, it was in a pet store, in a tiny cage, looking miserable. I bought it and took it home, with the intention of freeing it. I just thought it was awful that it was in such a small cage. I really felt for it and knew I had to try to help it. I was really angry that someone would take a wild thing like that and ruin it in such a way. But once I got it home, I didn't know what to do with it. I realized that it wasn't going to be "free", as it had lived too long in captivity. I also didn't want to keep it as a pet, that would defeat the whole point of why I took it from the petstore to begin with! Also, I mentally had promised to help it.

But I also feared opening that small cage. I saw that the eagle had some serious big talons there, and a sharp hooked beak too. It looked a little crazed from being so cooped up. Who would want to open the cage and have it fly out into his/her face in a rush, with all it's pent up anger released?

Maybe I'll see it again tonight.

Ok, I know this is trivial and there's hurricane Rita going on now and all but...

We can all use a laugh, right?

Someone posted this link in a comment on a blog I read sometimes and I went to it on a whim, and I was in hysterics for like, an hour straight. I'm easily amused, but still. This shit is funny.

Basically, It's just things that people overhear other people saying on the street, in a deli, in the subway, etc. in New York City. I love to eavesdrop, and I actually have notebooks FULL of stuff like this.

I can't look at this at work, not because there are nude pics or something, just because it cracks me up too much and I don't want to be sitting here in my office laughing my ass off all by myself.
So...Here ya go, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. Don't say I never gave ya nothin. :-)

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/

So busy...

September and October are the busiest times for me at work, and lately, my weekends have been pretty full too. I'm sorry I haven't had much time to blog lately! I will get back to it more when things slow down for me.

Random stuff I've been doing:

Yesterday I took Danny to a Habitat for Humanity worksite and we worked there for about for about 4 hours. It was cool. I've always wanted to do that.

This group had built 6 houses so far on that block, and were working towards completing 10 altogether. The houses were really pretty nice.

I didn't know if I should bring Danny or not, since he's 8 and gets bored easily. I worried that he would start whining that it was "too hard" or that he was "too hot" etc. At home, he often comes up with excuses why he can't work in the garden with me or clean his room. But in fact, that kid worked harder than I did!

He was right in there with the rest of the college kids, shovelling dirt and clearing debris from the worksite and chucking it in the dumpster. I could tell he was proud of himself. I saw how hard he was working and I kept asking him if he wanted to take a break and eat something or have some water, but he didn't want to. At one point, he was digging up a big rock and he asked me for help with it. The rock was massive, and personally, I thought it was beyond my abilities. I told him it was too big and he should pick something else to do, to which he replied:

Mom, what if Thomas Jefferson had said that about writing the Declaration of Independence 'Oh forget it, this is too hard.' No way!

Then he kept gamely digging. I really don't know where this kid comes up with this stuff, but it's pretty funny.

Meanwhile, some of the college kids were milling around, pretending to work but obviously wishing they were somewhere else.

There was a whole range of human behavior going on. Most of them worked very hard and really gave their best effort. Some of them screamed when they uncovered a mouse or a bunch of bugs, or refused to touch anything that looked dirty. Others were macho, showing off, lifting the heaviest things they could find, or breaking up rocks with a sledgehammer so as to look as strong as possible. There was a lot of flirting, bantering and laughing going on. I also met a novice nun who used to be a newspaper reporter. It was pretty interesting.

I like manual labor, personally. I'm not really that physically fit, and I do tend to be a bit of a slacker, but, as work goes, I enjoy manual labor more than most types of work. I notice that there is a free, playful energy of cameraderie around most physical work. Not the backbiting or gossip of an office.

It also feels good to do some kind of work that you know will help others in a real, tangible way.

Today I'm going to visit my grandson again.

Danny and I are really interested in owls ever since our visit to the Adirondack Visitor's Center. I brought home a cool project, an owl pellet full of mouse bones. We dissected it at the kitchen table (spread with newspapers) with my buddy Joanna. We sorted all the bones and tried to identify them.

Last night I heard a great horned owl outside. I've never heard one around here before. It was very exciting. We have a screech owl around here frequently, and a place nearby where we camp sometimes we always hear tons of barred owls, but this is my first time ever hearing a great horned owl. It was a special thrill.

J-sus this is asinine!

I hate this bastard anyway, but this has got to be a new low even for him.

So, the people who suffered the hurricane were just.... lazy? And they deserved what they got? And "let this be a lesson" to all high school students everywhere? That if you work hard and are "honest" you will get ahead and not be the victim of a hurricane?

Right.

I was so outraged when I read this over my morning coffee yesterday I ranted for about 10 minutes and I felt like my head was going to explode. This country becomes more like a surreal bad dream every minute.

Getting to be fall now...

Here are some late summer pics.

The baby jacket I knitted for my grandson Wyatt, natch. It's made from baby alpaca yarn and it's super soft. I saw little Wyatt over the weekend and he is adorable. :-)

Woodbox: This is wood Dave sawed up by hand with a bowsaw last winter. It was a fallen limb from a tree down by the creek. Soon we'll be burning it in our woodstove. We had about a cord and a half of wood stacked out by the garage that we bought, but this wood in the woodbox always makes me think what a cool guy I have. :-)

We have a RIDICULOUS amount of tomatoes this year. I've been canning, freezing, drying, giving them away, we've made tons of sauce and salsa, but they keep coming! They are really good too. Roma and San Marzano.

Yellowjackets: Dave has a weird relationship with the yellowjackets. There's a lot I could write about it but I'll save it for another blog entry later on.

Anyway, they are making it hard to enjoy eating outside on our deck these days. I thought maybe giving them some dried fruit would distract them from trying to eat our food but it just made it worse. I tried talking to them and they just don't care to discuss it. Fierce little things they are! Ah well, so much for my hippie methods of pest control! LOL.

finished baby jacket 

baby jacket 

woodbox 

tomatoes 

yellowjackets 

Love Notes and New Baby!

First of all, my stepdaughter had a baby boy last night and I'm now a GRANDMA. :-)

2nd: Yesterday was the 2nd time I met with the class I'm teaching, and I thought it went really well. When I got back to my office, one of the students had emailed me. He wrote "I heart you". That is so sweet. It really made my day. I'm still smiling about it.

Sometimes it's so hard to be a teacher, it's like you stand up there in front of this surly, bored audience like some kind of bad stand up comedian and bomb. Other days, it's really a great feeling, like you really get across what you wanted to say. Yesterday was one of those good days. :-)

3rd: Last night I was sitting at the computer when I heard something fly behind me. It was a piece of paper with a pencil stuck through it. I picked it up and read:

Meet me in my room.
p.s. I am not Danny.

So I went to Danny's room and knocked on his door. He opened it a crack and slipped a sealed envelope out. I took the envelope, opened it and read the message. It said:

I like Pokemon.

There was a Pokemon card inside. I have it in my pocket right now.

4th: I just got off the phone with Illiad tech support and we finally have our ILL system set up now so that when a student requests an article, we get it electronically from another library and it gets put on a server as PDF and the student gets an automatic email telling them it's there and how to access it. Maybe you don't know what this means or care, but it's cool, trust me.

You could say it's a good day.

Labor Day.

There are some things I’d like to say about Labor Day.

Now, normally I’d like to rant about unions, the labor movement, how much we owe to them, globalization, the minimum wage, the breakup of the AFL-CIO, etc etc. But I think I’ll skip that for now. Instead, I want to write about unpaid labor. I may do it in a roundabout way, I’m going to ramble. so bear with me.

The other day I found that there is a very abundant weed down by the creek, it’s very pretty, and it has tiny white flowers all over it. I was curious, so I turned to my field guides and tried to figure out what it was. At first I thought it might be boneset, a very useful medicinal plant. But after some more research, I figured out that it is actually a relative of boneset – white snakeroot. It, too, has been used as a medicine, but I prefer not to mess with it since it can also be toxic. Abraham Lincoln’s mother died of “milk fever” which was caused by drinking milk from a cow that has eaten white snakeroot. I guess this was a common illness that killed people in earlier times.

Still, it is a pretty plant and it’s interesting to learn about it. I also now know how to recognize boneset, and how to use it, should I find some. Most importantly, I know how to distinguish it from its more dangerous relative, white snakeroot.

I am a librarian by trade, so research is how I earn my living. But this research I did just for my own curiosity’s sake. Was this “work”? Or “play”?
I met my friend Chris in college. He was an art student back then, full of ego and covered with oil paint at all times. To go to an art museum with him was fascinating. He pointed out brushstrokes, composition, told me about the lives and careers of many artists, talked about how their work was received at the time and how it influenced future artists etc. I learned a lot from him.

Chris went on to graduate and become an artist. At times, he was able to make a living selling his work, but most of the time he had other jobs to help him pay for paint, canvas and brushes. Once I went to visit him in Seattle, where he was living. He and his wife lived in a large warehouse/loft type of space, with his paintings covering the walls and with no real kitchen or bathroom. Chris was in his mid-thirties by then, and feeling the pressure that men especially feel in our culture to “grow up”, get a “real job” and stop “pretending to be an artist”.

Shortly after that Chris did decide to take a break from the artist’s life and do something different. Now he teaches Tai Chi, which he also really enjoys. One thing I have noticed about Chris is that he’s gained a lot of wisdom and humility over the time that I've known him. I asked him in a phone conversation a few years ago if he had given up on his art. He said: “I decided that art is for me, but the art world is not for me”.

During this phone conversation we talked about herbal medicine. He described finding boneset growing in an empty lot, and collecting it for use in the winter to help his immune system fight colds and flu. He said: “When I look at boneset, I see a plant that has so many uses, but to most people, it’s just a weed growing in an empty lot. I feel like boneset myself. I have so many uses that society may not value or understand.” I knew just what he meant.

We all have parts of ourselves that we know are valuable, but will this particular capitalist system pay for these things? And if we aren’t paid for them, do they have any “value” to those around us? Are they “work” or “play”?

My step-daughter, Glenda, is pregnant and due to give birth at any moment. I think it would be cool if her baby was born on Labor Day, just because. Is giving birth, is parenting part of the gross national product?

I love to knit and I have two knitting books that I love very much. Both are by the same author, Robin Hansen. The titles are: Fox & Geese & Fences and Flying Geese & Partridge Feet.

They describe the humble task of knitting warm mittens and hats for people who labored outdoors in a cold climate. Some of these techniques are used very little anymore, and may be lost.

The author conducted oral history interviews of older women (and a few men) in the maritime provinces of Canada and Maine in the US. She asked them to show her the knitting techniques passed down to them by their ancestors. She traces how certain areas used certain patterns and techniques and how the different ethnic groups (Scandinavian, English, Irish, etc) influenced knitting in the areas she studied. She visited museums and shows pictures of mittens that you probably don’t see much today.

For example, mittens with tufts of wool roving lining the inside - often used by loggers, big bulky mittens with thick shag (kind of like shag carpet) on the inside or the outside - used to drive a horse drawn sleigh in winter, giant mittens boiled in salt water and shrunk down, worn wet to haul fishing line from the freezing winter ocean, “wristers” that were worn underneath mittens to keep the wrists warm when a person had to take the thicker, bulkier mitten off to do some work requiring more manual dexterity, etc etc.

All the labor involved. All the work people did with their hands. All the knowledge lost. All the connections between generations lost as people no longer value that knowledge. All the human creativity and innovation that was put into such simple everyday things. All the hours and hours spent to make these things. Now what are they? Who cares anymore?

Did the woman who wrote these books make much money from hours of interviewing people, learning and mastering the techniques, writing about it? She was curious; she didn’t want this knowledge to be lost. She wanted to write it. She got it published. But my guess is, they weren't bestsellers. Theya re out of print now. At one time this kind of labor and skill could have been a life or death matter. Now, to write such a book, is it work or play?

On vacation we went to the Adirondack Museum. Buildings and rooms full of artifacts that were once everyday, ordinary items. Each handmade. The hands that made and used those items are gone. Now they are curiosities. There is something about this that makes me so angry, and really -- envious.

Why was I born in a time where all of our objects are mass produced? Why is people’s “labor” now in factories in other countries, for such low wages, surrounded by barbed wire, not even allowed to take a bathroom break, screamed at and humiliated, fired if they talk of a union. Why do we have to feel this guilt and shame when we touch any plastic thing, or any item of clothing, knowing the hands that made it were basically the hands of slaves?

Why isn’t there the pride of figuring out a better way to make something, craftsmanship, passing on that knowledge and skill to another?

Why is our own labor, the labor that we are paid to do, often so empty, abstract and disconnected from our true selves? We workers have no control of the means of production.

When I knit, when I learn about and use herbal medicine, when I track and animal to hunt, when I garden, when I preserve food for winter, when I study animal behavior I labor with love. But love doesn’t pay the bills.

Right now, my husband calls upstairs that I should come downstairs and fold the laundry. I have stolen an hour to think about this, to write this.

Was this work? What is work?

The students are back...

...And I am trying not to be cynical. Really, I am.

But this is the cartoon I have on my computer desktop. I found it here.

Maybe I should change it. My advisees might find it depressing.

Suffragette City!

Girls, listen up. My friend Jean sent me this cool link to the Library of Congress American Memory Project. Specifically, to a special exhibit of images from the National Woman's Party -- an important part of the American women's suffrage movement.

These are images of the faces of women who went to prison so you and I could have the right to vote. Check it out!

It kind of gives me a little thrill that the Library of Congress does this cool stuff. It makes me proud of my profession.

It also gives me a little thrill to see the eyes and the expressions of people who have had a direct impact on my life, even though I can never meet them or thank them. I like to think if I lived back then I would have been one of them. But, to be honest, I'm not really much of an activist. I'm not proud of it, but that's the truth.

Still, I'm glad they were. Aren't you?

Update: It seems that right now there are women in our country who aren't so glad about it. Isn't it surreal?

Five Years?

Sorry to be a downer today, but sometimes I hear news about global climate change and I start to get freaked out about the end of the world. Does this happen to you? It is an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and sadness that I try to shut out.

Lately I have a song stuck in my head, it's David Bowie's "5 Years", it seems to be a little reminder of this sad feeling that I try to ignore.

"Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying
I heard telephones, opera house, favourite melodies
I saw boys, toys, electric irons and T.V.'s
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there
And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people
I never thought I'd need so many people..."

Do you worry about the end of the world? If so, what do you do with that worry?

Voyage to the Bunny Planet

"It is the first duty of a flagging spirit to seek renewal in the latitudes of whimsy. I, for one, dream on beyond the five planets to a world without wickedness; verdant, mild, and populated by amiable lapins".

-Benjamin Franklin, letter to his nephew, 1771.

Mowing the lawn

Dave and I mowed the lawn today. Mowing the lawn is a hot, repetitive, mindless activity that smells good and makes me really tired and gives a pleasant feeling of order when it's done.

It also makes me really sweaty. Just call me "Sweaty Betty". I actually like to pretend I'm Bettie Page when I mow the lawn. Why not?

It's sad though, when I mow over the grave of my dear cat friend, George.

Also, there is the avoiding the yellowjackets aspect. Eek!

Afterwards I took a splash in the diminishing creek. It's so shallow this time of year. But still cold. It felt so good to be done and cooled off and look across that neat lawn.

We saw some frogs and toads jump out of the way of the mower, but I was too busy working to take their photos. Sorry!

I love toads. It makes me happy to see a toad. I don't know why.

There's about a million crickets and grasshoppers out in the lawn too. What's up with all the crickets this year? I can't ever remember there being so many at once.

Sorry my summer thoughts are so banal, I used to be an intellectual, I swear!

Now I will make a cup of peppermint tea and lay down to read. Goodnight, blog readers. :-)

Tomatoes

Today I must deal with the ridiculous number of tomatoes that ripened while I was on vacation.

Every August there is this explosion of tomatoes and they are SO delicious, but something must be done to preserve them for winter. And canning is a lot of work, it's messy and it's hot.

I'm planning to can some this afternoon, but I'm also trying a new idea. A guy I work with suggested this and it's cool. I cut the tomatoes in half, put them on a greased cookie sheet and bake them in the oven at the lowest temp overnight. Then I take them out and freeze them in plastic bags. In the winter, they'll be great in soups etc. Easy-peasy. :-)

In the meantime I'm eating as many tomato and cheese sandwiches on white with lots of Hellman's mayonnaise, salt and pepper as I can. Because they are really, really good, people! I mean it.

My mouth is watering just thinking about it. And I'm gonna go make one right now.

Vacation Pictures

We had a fun vacation in Long Lake, NY. Want to see some pics?

Lake 

Falls 

Great Horned Owl at Adirondack Visitor Center 

Some beautiful feathers this guy has.

Great Horned Owl  

Saw whet owl at adirondack visitor center 

funky orange fungus 

a fungus among us... 

Does anyone know what these blue flowers are? 

What is it? 

cardinal flowers 

little frog 

cardinal flowers 

Lake 

Vacation....

I'm on vacation and will return the week of the 22nd. Have a good week!

Baby Cottontail Rabbit

I just saw possibly the coolest thing I've ever seen. A baby cottontail rabbit. It was just sitting in the grass in front of my sister's apt complex, right next to the parking lot. It sat there, frozen, and Dave, Danny and I knelt down to look at it.

We were all dazzled by it's extreme cuteness. It's little ears were so short, tipped in black. It's body was smaller than the palm of my hand. It was light brown and so adorable CUTE, we were in awe. It had a tiny little spot of white right on the top of it's little head. I reached out my index finger and very, very gently petted it right on that spot. As I touched it, it suddenly jumped to life and scooted over Danny's sandals and into the bushes.

Later, in the car on the ride home, I asked Danny what it felt like when the rabbit ran over his feet. He said: "It was soft, really soft. It has little pads on it's feet"

What an awesome thing.

Interview Tag, Anyone?

Tania interviewed me so here are my answers!

1. If you could live life as any other animal for a day, what would you be and why?

That's a tough one because I'd want to try so many different animals.

From a hedonistic viewpoint I'd choose dolphin or otter, just because they just look like they are having a lot of fun. Don't they? They seem like they enjoy life a lot.

From the viewpoint of wanting to try something totally different I'd say an arachnid or an insect, maybe a spider or a praying mantis. Or a honeybee. That would be interesting. They just seem so alien to me, I think it would be interesting to see the world like they do.

I also feel I could learn a lot from being a bear. I just think bears are cool.

From the viewpoint of what animals do I feel closest to or identify with, I'd say a cat, bluejay or crow. But I feel I already share a sort of understanding with these animals (especially cats). So, I don't know if I would pick them.

When it comes right down to it, I think I would choose: my dog - Betsy. I would choose her just because I would want to see how she views her life, if she's really happy or sad, if I could be a better dog owner. Also, I'm really curious about what her memories are of her life as a stray dog. I feel like she has this whole long story that I know nothing about. Did anyone own her before us? How did she become a stray? What happened to her puppies? Does she miss them? Does she miss her former owners? Her stray doggie pals? Her freedom? She seems sad to me sometimes. I wonder if she really is, or if she just seems that way? Here she is, isn't she so beautiful?



2. How did you become a librarian?

Yeah, I ask myself that question too! :-)

My first job, at the age of 13, was in our local public library. I was a page. Mostly, I hung out and read poetry in the back room, sitting on a stool. I was supposed to be shelving books, but even back then I was a slacker. The librarian there used to tell me all the time that I was fated to become a librarian. I would cringe at the thought. How boring! I had no intention of being a librarian and my teenage goal was to become a stripper, a famous writer, artist, anthropologist or a rock star.

All through my life I would run into this librarian and she would smile and say "Are you going to library school yet?" Or "Got your MLS yet?" And I would think "Yeah, right, Lady, I don't think so."

Well, I worked as a waitress (a job I enjoyed and still miss at times. Former waitresses: don't you sometimes eat in a busy restaurant where the waitress is swamped and wish you could jump up and help her cover some tables? Don't you also wish you could reach into your pockets on laundry day and always pull out big wads of cash? I do. ) Other jobs I had were: manager of a vintage clothing store, (also fun) and clerk in a copy shop.

I put myself through college little by little and majored in English because I liked to read and write, and it was something I was pretty good at. I got good grades and my professors started talking to me about graduate school. There seemed to be this assumption that I would go on to get a PhD in English and become an English professor like them. I didn't know if I wanted to do that, but my professors seemed to think it was a given that I would.

I also worked in the University Writing Center and I knew from my graduate school friends how cutthroat gradschool could be. I knew that many of them felt that they had given up their creative side, given up their social and romantic lives, given up most of their free time for years and years, but that the chances that they would be able to get a full time tenure-track position teaching English at the college level with their graduate degrees were pretty low. I didn't want to go that route.

I liked to write and I was trying to write a novel. I also had many notebooks full of interesting anecdotes and observations, sketches, etc. But really I wasn't as committed to that as I would have to be to really be a writer. I also knew that I wanted to have kids and so I wanted a more stable income and health insurance.

So one day, I ran into the librarian mentioned earlier and told her all about this and she said: "Thats because you are supposed to become a librarian! Get it now?" So, I gave in and accepted my fate. I also looked through the jobs section of the Chronicle of Higher Education and figured out that there were way more jobs for academic librarians than for English professors, so Voila, here I am.

Oddly enough, a few years ago a position became available at the college I work for that fit the interests and background of the librarian who pestered me all those years, and I was on the search committee. Yes, we hired her. I work with her now!

3. Suppose civilization was wiped out, and all electricity, gasoline-powered engines, municipal water supplies, and other infrastructure ceased to operate. What would you need to survive?

Ha! You know I like to fantasize about this. I like learning all kinds of traditional skills and I do kind of have that "survivalist" mindset at times. Knowledge of hunting, fishing, gardening, foraging for wild edible plants, knowledge of medicinal plants, knitting, quilting, canning/drying preserving, etc. are things that I always want to learn more about.

My friend Chris wrote a great essay about this.

4. Have you ever seen a ghost?

Who doesn't love a good ghost story? I think everyone has a few. I've never "seen" a ghost, but I have heard and felt some strange things but I'm not sure if they are ghosts or not.

When I was a kid we lived next door to an old family graveyard and I used to hear music coming from there frequently. It sounded like banjo/fiddle music. Later in life I recognized the tune as Old Joe Clark.

I also used to see distinct shadows moving across the walls that looked like a procession of pallbearers carrying a coffin. At the time I didn't know what pallbearers were.

Also, I would wake up suddenly because someone or something pulled my hair really hard. Also, at times I would feel the sensation of a cat jumping onto the bed, I would see the impression of something on the covers of the bed in that spot, but there was no cat there.

When we moved to Albany, I had another bedroom that really creeped me out. There was a closet in the bedroom that had stairs going up to the attic that had been walled off. The closet door would not stay shut. Every night I would shut it carefully and make sure the latch "clicked", but every night it I would hear it swing open in the middle of the night with a loud creaking sound. I always had the sensation of being watched there and it was very eerie. Later, when I moved out, my younger sister got that room and she told me she also had the creepy sensation of being watched in that room.

When my husband and I went to Ireland for our Honeymoon, we wandered upon an Irish graveyard on Mizen Head Peninsula, near Goleen. We decided to explore it. The graveyard was surrounded by a "moat" of running water. I think most of the people who were buried there had died in the famine, or drowned at sea. We both felt strangely unsettled there. My husband isn't the type to be afraid of much, especially the supernatural, but he was nervous too.

The ground was lumpy and spongy, like as we walked we were stepping on the bodies of those poor starved people, who seemed to be buried very shallow, or perhaps they were pushed up as the earth shifted? We imagined that their hands could reach up through the earth and grab our feet! We looked at each other and said "Let's get out of here, Scoob!".

Here are some pictures of it.

I am pleased to say I have never felt the presence of any ghosts in my current home, although I have found some bones in the garden that sure looked human to me, but Dave says he things they are animal bones. Anyway, they aren't haunting, whatever they are.

Well, I don't think they are. But Danny once said there was a man sitting in the rocking chair in his bedroom and when I asked: "what does the man look like?" He said: "You can see through him, like he's made out of water".

5. Do you think there's life on other planets?

To be honest I've never been the Sci-Fi type of girl who cared. I'm more the Lord of the Rings/Carlos Castaneda type of nerd. :-)

I love this earth and I just hope we don't fuck it up too badly. There could be life on other planets but I find this one so mysterious and interesting that I don't feel too compelled to speculate about others.

Sometimes it seems like the visions people had in the Bible could have been extraterrestrial things, (i.e.: "a wheel within a wheel" "Jacob's ladder" etc.) I think that's kind of interesting. Also, how did the Egyptians build those pyramids? And how did that wacky guy in Florida build that coral castle? I guess aliens could have been involved. Who knows?

Thanks Tania, that was fun!

Now, if you have a blog and you want to be interviewed, leave me a note in the comments that says, "Interview me, please." I will respond by asking you 5 questions, but not the same as the above questions. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions and interview someone else in the same post or new post. Yay!

Peaches from our tree. I made peach pie. I also ate some for breakfast. :-)
 

So long my Honey, So long... 

Bye Bye, Birdie, Bye Bye...

Our dear bird friend is now staying with a very nice vet who takes wild birds, treats them and gives them to wildlife rehabilitators to release into the wild. It had a ruptured air sack and needed antibiotics, so I'm glad the vet was able to help it. I feel a bit sad when I come home from work and step onto the porch and it's not peeping and chirping, but I know this is for the best.

"...Well so.... long... my honey, so long.
I guess I'm gonna make it OK.
I'll see you in the funny papers some old day...
So long, my honey, so long...." - J. Joplin.

Busy busy busy...

Sorry Darlinks, I am so bu