Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . .

see me if you can. . .

My alert consort found this when he took out the compost today. Can you see it? I couldn't at first. He was attracted by the trilaterally symmetrical leaves, thinking we had missed a Trillium. But no. Two Jack-in-the-Pulpit flowers are living by our compost and brush pile, just off the edge of the cultivated property. Can you believe it?!? Right in front of our noses. What else might we be missing? Welcome, small beautiful things. Now I'm wondering if Trillium and Jack-in-the-Pulpit are related. . .

There is a lot of other excitement in the yard, of course. Blueberries are in full bloom, as are the Lilys of the Valley, the Weeping Crab apple is just finishing up her reproductive display, as are the real apples (Malus domestica), and the Peach (Prunus persica). Sorry about the Latin names. It's nice to know they're still in my brain.

sorrel and kale from the garden

 

 

 

As I am still limited in movement, I asked J to bring in some kale and sorrel for tonight's salad as well as a bunch of rhubarb for a pie. I can hardly bear to look at that wonderful rhubarb without using some if it. I love how rhubarb looks like some kind of exotic African plant with those huge leaves and their wonky flowers. 

Rhubarb

I guess I should take a picture of the pie. Not my prettiest by any means, and I had to go lay down after I made the crust. What a weenie.

Apples post bloom

It's hard to tell how much fruit set I have on the apples just yet. I'm hopeful. The bumble bees have been major players every day I've been out, though as usual, we see few honey bees.

Fledgling peach

But I'm pretty sure I see a peach on the residue of the peach flower. . .

Lily of the Valley flowers are hard to see, but their smell whops one upside the head as one walks past. 

 

 

Blueberry flowers with developing fruit

 

 

The blueberries deserve documentation. Such delicate flowers. And the bees love them. There is also visible fruit developing in that last image, so we'll have blueberries this year, if we can beat the chipmunks to them.

Two beauties to finish up with. First are the Double File Viburnums, which I oddly want to call "Rank Viburnums". Not a great subsitution. . .makes them sound like they're stinky, which they most definitely are not! In the foreground, the Siberian Iris are threatening to upstage them, but they are conveniently next-in-line-to-bloom, and don't offer any real competition. This makes me so grateful for the planters of this garden. We've added a lot to the house, but the fundamental structure of the gardens and the perennials are all due to the first owners of this place.

Mary's Yellow Iris

To the right is my first Siberian Iris of the Year. This is one that my friend, M, gave me. Pretty sure, since it's Yellow. And earlier than the purples by the Viburnum.

Rhubarb. Nicely delineates the edge of the yard

Ok. I can't resist one last image. Rhubarb. Food for the eyes and the belly.

 

This Explains a Lot. . .

 

There is a surprising common artistic mindset [among all artists]. . .  The end product is not the point. Why they did what they did is because they were consumed by the work. They all have a compulsion, an obsession to make something. It gets into their system and they can’t let go of it. 

Adam Moss, author The Work of Art.

Another slow walk

Very small dish (about 4 x 4 inches)

Things are still moving slowly enough in my healing process that I'm looking to catch up on writing. Note that I finally got the video on the last post to work. It seems I have to YouTube-ify it before I can get blogger to show it to you. That's ok. I just need to remember.

Found items and impressed slab

I thought I'd catch up on a pottery project that was conceived when we were in Kitty Hawk, NC this past March. I tend to pocket things on our many walks. Nuts, shells, skeletons. . .anything with interesting texture. In the back of my mind is that I'll make a bisque stamp from these collected items, and then use them to make a clay series that remembers the place. That's an odd way of putting it, I know, but clay is said to have a memory. If we extend that concept, maybe we can think of the final object as one that remembers an event. A piece of experience and time. That may be the pain killers at work. But bear with me. I started this project a couple of months ago, and between kiln problems, and the onset of spring, I'm just pulling it together now.

Roller stamp, still wet

 

Above are some of the objects I found in my pockets, along with the raw clay that I've pressed them into to make a stamp. These can be simple shells, pine needles (the needles are from the Loblolly Pine, a favorite tree of mine. . .the needles are long and arranged in 3-needle fascicles. The trees are Very Tall and Very Straight). That little skull was really interesting, but I couldn't get it to yield a very interesting texture. 

3 roller stamps to remember Kitty Hawk

One can make small stamps with little handles on them, or roll the length of clay up like the one pictured above and to the right to make a "roller" bisque stamp. They are then fired only to the bisque stage (not fired higher to full vitrification), and can then be used as tools to roll onto objects as they're being made.  The bisque-only firing means that they won't stick to the fresh clay.

Same stamps, fired to bisque

The bisque rolls are used to decorate hand-built objects, including the tumbler, mug and vase below. 

Kitty Hawk budvase

Note that the tumbler is still unfired. The texture from the bisque stamps is really clear on it, but as firing first to bisque, and then glazing, and refiring, the texture gets much subtler.

 

Kitty Hawk tumbler, green

The lesson learned on this is that the next piece I make with these textures, I'll use a much lighter colored glaze, such as that on the featured piece above. I think that may bring more focus to the textures, which after all, were the inspiration for the work. 

And for the record, the mug, below, is a wonderful piece through the camera's eye. In Real Life, though, the colors are much more muted, even muddy. Sorry Guy. My screw up.

Kitty Hawk mug

Literal slow walking

A medical situation has put me inside for a while, so I thought I'd share some spring images. Spring has come on full force. It seems like one day we have that light green haze over the woods, and the next, we're in full jungle mode. So amazing.

Images of late. . .  

The fiddle-heads move quickly from this to full blown Ostrich Plumes. They are breath-taking, particularly given their sheer numbers, but also for their hardiness and toughness. When we visited a friend in Massachusetts a few years ago, she was ripping them out by the roots from her garden. They had become a formidable weed.

Fancy Trillium

 

 

 

And then there are the trillium. In what can only be described as way too short a season, they were here in full force this past week. We call the frilly white and maroon type "fancy", but I don't really know which common name is well recognized. These take a little looking for, and knowing what one is looking for, but once you see them in one place, you start to see them everywhere. It's as though your eyes need to get calibrated to them.

Red Trillium

The more common red trillium graces our yard, and most woodland paths that I've been on in Maine. Again, a short season, and calibrated eyes at the right time. They tend to hang out in gangs. Smile.

They are also often seen in the same areas as that radical to the left. . .the strappy leaves only give them away if you know who they are. But in a month or so, these plants will be offering up the most beautiful Pink Lady Slippers imaginable. I hope I can be back.

And that's it for the post today. I'll close with a video of our creek at Sanders Hill if it cooperates. This was from Mother's Day (only a week ago!), and is one of the things that keeps drawing us back into the forest.

 

 

Video link

https://youtu.be/lCECh5UdtY8

 

Slow-walking spring

 

Weeping Crab Apple

Spring-like weather has been teasing us for a couple of weeks now, but this morning I woke up to 29F, so she's in no hurry. My weeping crab apple (left), on the other hand, is ready to seize the moment. Any moment. I have great sympathy with this enthusiasm. I was "that kid" who ran into the swimming pool without testing the water temperature first. Smile. And that's the least of it.

Cornus kousa 'Greensleeves' (Olivia)

Most plants, though, are more circumspect. The Dawn Redwood has poked a few leaf tips out, but is on hold right now. The Linden and our Cornus Kousa 'Greensleeves" likewise. Let's not be hasty. Apple buds are swelling, but not ready to commit. The Peach has decided to hold off completely. For the time being. The raspberries, of course, are pushing hard, but they can tolerate some cold-ish weather, so they're not necessarily unwise to do so.

Scylla

The Scylla litter the lawn and bedding floor like so much high-class confetti. But the Daffodils are quite slow this year. Surprising really.

And the old-fashioned Bleeding Hearts are giving it a go. They seem to be right on time.

Daffodils almost in bloom

Bleeding Hearts

Nature's own totem

Climate Change has been much on my mind here lately. We're still cleaning up the mess that the winter rains and wind (not snows. . .imagine that in Maine) wreaked on our trails. 

Our recent Earth Day event had a hopeful ring to it. . .children were involved. . .and we had the community involved in making a huge roll-up mural (called a Cranky) to the inspiration of a poem written by one of our members. The title is How Humans Saved the Earth. After they messed it up, of course, but let's invite people to solutions, not despair. The caveat to that optimism, of course, is what Jamie Tartt warned . . . It's the Hope that kills you.

Oh No! I can't end with that. On other fronts our lives continue on. Trouble shooting kiln problems, painting our house, planning for medical what-not. The stuff of everyday life.

And of course, walking with Jasper. John snapped this image of a tree still standing. It seems like a statement to me, but I'll let you decide.

 

 

 

And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, back from the warm, into the snow. . .

 

Unexpected Easter Eggs

We came back from our vacation to the Outer Banks, in North Carolina, last week. There was the usual scramble to catch up on all things house and volunteer (still scrambling), and then it was Easter just 2 days ago. 

We usually go out for Easter dinner. . .a holdover from when we had kids, dogs, house repair, the whole catastrophe, and I wasn't up to cooking another holiday feast. But I didn't think to make any reservations, and John and I were a little overindulged during the trip. So he made dinner, I made dessert, and on a whim, decided to dye a few eggs for the nostalgia of it. Are these beautiful or what? I had some PAAS Easter Egg dye from years ago, and thought I'd use that sucker up. The eggs I dyed happened to be brown. I Could Not Believe how beautiful these cheesy dyes presented on the brown eggs. I almost didn't want to use them. But we did. Egg salad and Creamed Eggs on toast. Some humble food for our tired-of-fancy-food bodies.

Daffodils in March

The trip South delivered the desired soil and blooms as we slowly made our way to the Outer Banks. Daffodils were in full bloom in Lansdale, PA. as Jasper photo-bombed this picture. 

We also visited Assateague Island, where the ponies are much more abundant (and unafraid) than they were when I visited there as a kid. It was actually a little disturbing. Islands are limited ecosystems, and apparently they have to herd them back across the causeway when they wander over to the mainland. Is this a sustainable system? 

I have a very fond memory of vacationing on Chincoteague Island as a child. My father knew I was a serious Misty of Chincoteague fan (a book by Marguerite Henry), and asked around to see if we might be able to see the pony in person. It was a sort of "no big deal" thing, but as I look back on it, it was extraordinarily sweet. We followed very Local directions (turn right at the big white barn kind of stuff), found a very unimposing house and barn, and a young man who either worked or lived there took us out to the stable where Misty lived. 

Ponies on Assateague

 I was thrilled (evidence in the photo), Dad, a serious amateur photographer, snapped a few images, and we went back to fishing. I can't imagine something like that happening today on so many levels. It's a very sweet memory, and I appreciate the fact that my Dad recorded it.

Misty, Me, and a Boy

 

 

 

But back to the trip. Unlike my Dad, I am terrible at taking photos when I'm on a trip. I chalk it up to being too much in the moment to record it, but it could be that I'm just lazy. Or not interested in playing that role? Don't know.

But! We made our way down to the Outer Banks, settled in to our VRBO, and waiting for our friends to come. They also have a dog, so hiking was the thing. Yay! I was really fascinated by the Maritime forests on the island. The eco system is so not Maine. The Bald Cypress are particularly cool trees, and of course I took not ONE picture of them. So I've stolen one from Captain Mitch's Airboat Tours. We learned about these trees in horticulture classes because of the unique mechanism they use to tolerate living in the water. The "knees" they form allow them to absorb oxygen for their physiological processes. Most trees die quickly when submerged.

Bald Cypress from www.captainmitchs.com

 We wandered around the swampy land, seeing tons of turtles, eagles, lots of birds, and very tall Loblolly pines. We also, of course, walked along the beach, which was just a couple of blocks from our residence. The first day, we saw dolphins in the not-to-far distance, and ranks and files of pelicans were common.

Finally, we came home to not only Easter, but the aftermath of a terrible spring storm. We had snow piled up on our front door entrance (4-5 feet tall), and our local trails, once again, suffered badly with downed trees. 

Down Trees in Waterville Maine

So that's the plan for the next few weeks: clean up the trails. 

Caveat: We have a strong northeaster coming in tomorrow night that is predicted to dump 12-18" of snow on us. What a climate-changing world. But as Paul Simon said "Gee it's great to be back home. . ."

 

Back to the Indoor Sports. . .

 

New favorite mug

The weather is quite cold, but crisp. We've had our fair share of cloudy days, but the sun has been kind for the past few days giving us lovely morning walks. The kids visited for a few days, and I'm figuring they brought the cold and the warmth.(!)

But I have been Making Stuff this winter, too. I keep forgetting to photograph, so I took a little time a few days ago, and this is the best and the worst of the batch. Glazing remains a torture for me. I so love making the forms, and my wheel work is more reliable than it was a year ago. However, every time I open the kiln from a glaze firing, I gird my loins.

The mug to the left is my new favorite. The green color is a coyote matt finish, while the brown drippy stuff is our old friend Ancient Jasper. A small success!

a tale of two disasters

But to be fair, it's not all sunshine and roses. These were mugs that I really like for their form, but the glaze is a near disaster. The one on the right developed bubbles. . .it's a terrible functional problem, because the bubbles feel uncomfortable in one's hand. And I haven't found any cure for it. I may text my ceramics expert friend to see if he has any suggestions. The mug on the right could have been lovely, but the black (usually a matt finish) is unattractive, and the color combination trulyl terrible. What was I thinking? Note to self: I really need to write these failures down so as to not repeat them.

Small and sweet

Getting back to the "Not Bad" category, these are two very small bowls. . .about 3 1/2" in diameter when fired. I really love making these little bowls. They come about then I have a very small piece of clay left over from other throwing or hand-building, and I wedge it, and put it on the wheel. It takes about 3 minutes to make the little bowl (I don't trim the bottoms), and they just make me smile. . . on those occasions when I don't screw up the glaze! I put these in the good-not-great category. The interior glaze is a pistachio, and the outside was the same matt black as in the mug above, but I dipped the rim in Emeraude. . . a known runner, and it really heightened the green and didn't do the black any harm. Ha. Do No Harm. A new potter's motto.

Soup Bowls

The "okay" category holds these three soup-sized bowls (5-6 inches in diameter). I dipped, rather than sprayed the glaze, and boy do I like the ease of that. But the rims were dipped in Ancient Jasper again, with uninspired results. And there were also some glaze bubbles in the bottom of the bowl. These aren't dangerous like the ones on the outside of the mugs, but they are disturbing to scrape your spoon over as you finish up your lovely bowl of soup.

John's tumbler

These last 2 hand-built pieces were "quite useful" and "just goofy". I'm ok with both. The tumbler is one I made for John using a brown speckled sculptural clay. It is quite thin, especially given that it's hand-built, and the texture was nicely highlighted. Texture was from a bisque stamp I made using leaves, grasses, other stuff. I love using tools that I make.

useful and goofy

The little bud vase to the right was just a fun left-over-clay piece as well. "I have a little clay and I don't want to re-open the bag to put it back in" kind of piece. It's 9" tall. I find these little vases quite useful in the summer. . .a single leaf and flower? 

Life has been pleasantly busy. I always feel like I'm forgetting something, or I'm a step behind, but the good thing about winter is that being a step behind isn't a biological disaster. We won't lose a tomato crop because I forgot to send an email. Ha. Terrible example. Anyway, while I'm always in the outdoors at least twice a day (Thank you, Jasper), I'm also particularly appreciative of our snug warm house.

I hate it when they catch me with my tongue out

Going for a walk on a snowy morning. . .

 

This morning was quintessential Maine winter weather. Cold, blue sky, still. I can't walk on these mornings without thinking of Robert Frost, though these are not the roads not taken. They are paths taken, made all the icier because of the feet that have packed them down, followed by the sun melting and re-freezing at night. Crampons, once again, are my friend.

But not my best friend. Jasper is the reason I'm on these trails before anyone else thinks of getting out and hiking. It is such a gift.

One of the most wonderful things about hiking alone with a wolf is that thoughts just wash over you. Thoughts you might not take time to think under any other circumstance. Or be inspired to think them. . .

 

 

 This morning I was thinking about how fundamental. . .how natural. . it seems to be walking with my wolf in the snow. I know I know. He's a dog, but he does look a little wolfish, doesn't he? Coloring not withstanding.

 I was thinking of all of the other people who walked through these Maine woods with their dog/wolf. Men or women who predate the arrival of white people. They walked in the woods to hunt, gather, teach their children the ways of woods and their creatures. Maybe they walked through the woods to see a family member in another tribe. . to trade gossip. . to complain about their husband ("He never puts anything away. . ."), to alert them to some danger. Did they take pleasure in these woods? Or was it a chore ("Damn. I wish I had a horse. . ")

I learned recently that Maine is the most forested state in the United States. An estimated 90% is forested. And northern Maine, where few people live, has 12 million acres of forest. No wonder this state has attracted me.

I am, however, starting to lean toward spring. With my 70th birthday pending, I can't help but wonder how many more springs there will be for me. That's not a woe-is-me statement. Just an objective thought. It might make me further appreciate the remaining springs. And walks in the snowy woods.