Trudging Through

 

Eastern Phoebes almost ready to fledge

I can't pretend to be happy about the weather these past few days. I AM very happy that the heat has finally broken, and we got some rain. The nice slow sort that lets the earth savor every drop. Yum. The humidity is still high enough that my fingers feel wet when I'm outside.

These are the Phoebes that have finally fledged and left. I cleaned away the nest, feeling that them being terrorized by us, however unintended, is not a great thing. I expect I'll hear about it from Mama, but having them So Close seems unwise, particularly when they have 5 acres of lovely woods to set up house. It turned out there were 4 babies. They looked almost full sized by the time they fledged. One day they were sitting on top of each other looking disgruntled, and the next they were gone. More Eastern Phoebes in the world can't be a bad thing.

While the tomatoes are currently many and very very green, the bush beans have been bearing a good bit. I didn't expect them to give me as much food as my previous standards, Kentucky Wonder Pole beans, but they are surprising me. A good surprise!

Mug and bowl, unfired (greenware)

I've been overwhelmed with minutiae lately, and it frustrates me. I am getting a little work done in the studio, though. I thought I'd publish bits and pieces of the sausage making process here. I'm, once again, working on my throwing, but when working with this porcelain, I can't resist adding some botanical appliques when the pieces get to leather hard.

The little vase below is, at this stage, a favorite. I like the looseness of the added bits, as well as the proportions. These are green ware, meaning that they are dried, but not fired at all.

Bowl and small vase, also green ware

In contrast, the mugs below have been bisque fired. Notice that in all of these stages, the clay is Not white. It's porcelain, but doesn't get to that lovely white color until the final (glaze) firing. Actually, one of the things I love about porcelain is that it doesn't have to be glazed. Of course nothing really HAS to be glazed, but most functional pottery is. I think that the pinkish tone of the bisqued porcelain is particularly disturbing, but I hold on for the final firing!

Mugs that have been bisque fired

Small vessel, fully fired porcelain

Finally, the fully glazed finished pieces, though not the same pieces as I've shown at various stages above.

This little cup is one of my favorites. It also has the loose (some might say careless) applique work which seems to be a developing style for me.

The mugs below are works of the same style, though the one on the right is hand built rather than thrown. 

I'm planning on bringing out some of the coarse sanded/grogged clay to work on soon. All of this pristine nonsense is feeling a little too controlled.

Porcelain mugs

And I'm hoping that we can get back to serious hiking. We've been taking Jasper in the very early mornings (7a) to avoid the heat, but the deer flies have kicked up. So he's wearing his permethrin treated bandana and dog-insect repellent on those magnificent ears for protection. Ah, Maine.

Jasper says Orange is not the new anything

Independence Day

Asparagus flower. Who knew?

Independence Day. It's been a while since I posted, but this day inspires me to put thoughts out to the universe. Why those words? Partly because more than half the population has lost a chunk of Independence in this country of patriots; secondly because I feel like only an invasion from outer space (referencing the movie) could possibly unite us, and thirdly because Jeff Goldblum is my 2nd favorite male nerd ever.

But I digress. The weather here today is such that one wonders how one could ever live anywhere else. Things are blooming crazy everywhere, the cerulean sky (thank you, Dave Nachmanoff) is hung with big puffy clouds, and the temperature is about 75F with light winds and low humidity. 

Beginning the Local

The day started off with our local hike. . . out the back yard and down through the forest. Wherever sunlight makes it to the ground, things grow and bloom. The blackberries have progressed from flowers to small green fruit, and the lowbush blueberries are ripening. I ate two of them today. Yay. Flowers are too numerous to name, but they include daisies, black-eyed Susans, all manner of clover, asters, Queen Anne's lace, buttercups, good grief. I didn't bring my phone today, so I don't have today's images, but I promise that I'll include some in the next post. Well. Promise may be a strong word to use, given my memory. Smile.

The yard is also holding forth. I'll pick green beans (Blue Lake Bush beans. . . I didn't have time to build a trellis for the usual Kentucky Wonder Pole beans) in the next couple of days, the kale is too much. Just too much. A groundhog is lending us a hand in eating it, which of course is a bit of a worry. He's also chomping on eggplant and zucchini leaves. .

Wild blackberries moving from flower to fruit

I looked into the forest today beyond our rhubarb planting and saw a Foxglove in full bloom. Nice to know that I have some Digitalis on hand should I need it! I'm tempted to bring it inside, but I want it to go to seed and populate the surrounding forest.

After our hike, I noodled around in the garden for a while. Pulled some of the Mint-gone-wild, did a little watering of the transplants and the shade garden (it's starting to get a little dry, and I don't want anyone having to go without), pondered the Groundhog situation (Jasper is not taking the hint on this), and then I sat on the stone bench under the weeping crab apple with my coffee and looked at the woods. Our front door is blocked with a couple of sawhorses and a note that says "Phoebe nesting. Please use other door." Sometimes I feel like I've fallen into another very beautiful world, but the nightly PBS News Hour and the occasional tick I remove after a walk remind me otherwise.

The meditation rock on Messalonskee Stream

 

July 4th has been a rough day for me since 2020. I could imagine that the 2016 election of a lying narcissistic misogynist was a one-off up until then. But on July 4th 2020, I realized that we are not the country I thought we were. We did not defeat racism with the Civil Rights Bill, we did not defeat war with the Vietnam war protests. We did not win equal rights for women. And who knew that we were still capable of discriminating against. . more than that. . .hating. . Asians? Jews? Muslims? 

We are tribal, and if we can't find a way to evolve, we will destroy ourselves.  

The view from the rock

In the meantime, I will be grateful for the beauty in our world, try to grow, do what I can, and continue to hope. At some point, though, resistance may well have to become fighting-like-hell. What a shame.