I have an idea. . .

Bleeding hearts

So. After the whining comes the realization that a lot is going right in the garden and nature right now. So my job is to document that too. It shouldn't be so easy to focus on the Bad Stuff. And while working in the garden is harder for me now than it was when I was in my prime, it's A Lot easier than it was last year, pre-surgery. Yay. For the resilience of the natural world, Western medicine, and a doc who was willing to invest his talent in me. Very. Yay.

For some reason the volume of the bleeding hears surprise me every year. They are in deep shade in the summer, but this time of year, before the Copper Beech above them leafs out, they are a marvel. Generous and beautiful. The daffodils and tulips are done, by the way, as are the Scylla and the snow drops.

Blueberry blossoms

One of my blueberry cultivars is in full bloom. Note the lack of bees, though. This cool cloudy weather is wonderful to work in, but not-so-great for pollination. The blueberries will do ok without it, but I'm afraid the apples (in a later image) will fail to set fruit.

A budding columbine

The Columbine is just starting a run at blooming. This one is in the middle of a ton of Lily-of-the-Valley, which is blooming!

Weeping Crabapple

The weeping crab apple is just spectacular this year. She suckers like a thing possessed, but I knocked the usurpers back this morning.

Geraniums

Siberian Bugloss

The geraniums (also called Cranesbill) are just tuning up. They are also threatening a spectacular bloom this year.

 

Siberian Bugloss, or Brunera, is in full throat right now. It's a delicate voice, but utterly beguiling. And long after the flowers fade, the leaves enchant.

Peach blossoms past petal fall

The peach blossoms are on to the next stage now. Only a few petals are still hanging on, and she is start to contemplate the gestation of many offspring. Oh dear. I hope she was pollinated adequately. We did have some warmer weather when her blossom were at full tilt.

Apple blossom

The above is a crabapple. She also had incredibly abundant blossoms this year. To the right is a later blooming apple tree. I'm not holding out a lot of hope for a crop, but it could happen. These plants have, after all, evolved to produce seeds, and the fruit is bound up in that. We'll see.

Lilac flowers

And then there are the lilacs. I cut some large very old branches out of this one during winter pruning. I'm hoping that plant physiology will work, and that the pruning will inspire the plant to throw up new young shoots.

Candles on a dwarf blue spruce

 Other things are happening too. The evergreens are all showing off their candles (the hemlocks are particularly charming), the asparagus are starting to fill in after we have cut them for (perhaps) too long, and the rhubarb.

Asparagus

 

Rhubarb!

Good grief. The rhubarb. She's like exotic animal trying to free herself from the confines of a domestic garden. Large lush leaves showing off and looking for escape at the same time.

Phlox

The phlox is just starting to bloom, amid the seedlings of ash and oak. The oak mast was overwhelming last year, and we'll be weeding oak seedlings out of the garden beds for years to come.

Double file viburnum

The Double-file Viburnum are just tuning up, promising their annual show in the near future.

Beleaguered Rhododendrons

Finally, a word about the rhododendrons. They were so hurt by. . the winter? The two very wet cool seasons? Being ignored? We don't have many flower buds this year, which is unusual. But while I wasn't a lover of this plant for a long time, I've come to appreciate her glossy green leaves that stay with us throughout the seasons. I love the way they combat the cold by rolling up like so many pencils, and then coming back flat when temperatures warm.

A late cool spring. . .

Weeping Crap Apple and Copper Beech

It's been a strange spring. I hustled to get my vegetable transplants in because the weather was warming (and no temps below 40F in sight), but everything has stopped for the last week or so. There have also been some post-winter trauma in our rhododendrons, and my lovely huge lupine is just barely coming back. Likewise, one of my apple trees. . .my best producer (Macoun, I think) is leafing out erratically, and hardly had any flowers on it.

The latter issue isn't completely unexpected, since she had a good sized crop last year, and some cultivars do have alternate year bearing habits. But it's more than that. . .the leaves are sparse and some are quite small.

On the good news front, the weeping crab apple is at her most glorious this year. But notice the Copper Beech behind her. It's leafing out late, which is usual, but is also displaying an unusual pattern of leafing out, with the top way ahead of the lower branches. Oh the worry of a plants-person.

Tree Fall. How depressing

My garden journal tells me that we are about a week behind last year, in terms of leafing out and blooming. Olivia, my Cornus kousa, is also late. I'm thinking that we may have had more cold injury than usual this year. We had an extended period of single digits when there wasn't much snow on the ground. That may be the issue. And after two wet seasons, everyone had wet feet for most of the summer.

Jasper. Not depressing at all

I've also had cause to wonder what a healthy Maine forest looks like. We've had so much tree fall in our woods. Some of that is normal, I'm sure, but I can't help but wonder if we're seeing some climate change effects on these woods. We had to clear a lot of fallen trees off one of our trails. It was after a big storm, and where the trees that had grown up on the perimeter of the forest had been removed. So it may have just been human caused carelessness. It is hard to know what is caused by changing climate, and what falls within the realm of normal weather fluctuations.

It's hard not to feel a little blue, waiting for Spring to come. I planted a couple of Ranunculus corms and a Giant Brunnera root today. And an image of Jasper never fails to bring a smile.

May Drama and. . .

 

The rebirth of the land is always miraculous to me. I think of it as The Great Unfurling. It starts with a green haze, and fern fists raising out of the ground, and moves on to the lush landscape that I love in Maine. To be fair, it always feels about 3 weeks later than it should be here. And I don't remember being quite this thirsty for it in previous years. I expect it's the stress of the political upheaval. Spring reminds us that things come around again. At least this year.

The green haze moves like a cloud shadow over the landscape. I appreciate the fact that the conifers remain green all year, but my heart really belongs to the deciduous trees that seem to die and rise up year after year.

I had some big electronic drama a couple of weeks ago, which is to say that I actually have a reason for being so long between posts. I accidentally locked down my phone and other i- devices, and it appeared that I had lost all of my contacts, photos, the whole mess. I'm not overly concerned about any of the photos except the ones with John and Jasper in them, but still. I had stopped using the cloud because it was always annoying me. 

 

But. Then a shocking thing happened. About 3 days after the scurrying about with it. . .the "I am too dependent on my phone" recriminations, and the "How could I be so stupid" lashings, the photos just reappeared. Looks like I won't be dropping Apple products after all. So much time wasted, though, and a lot of investment from my most noble IT person. What patience that man has.

And here's a most positive harbinger of the growing season! Asparagus. These were our first this season. I have a complicated relationship with asparagus. The taste and smell of them takes me back to sitting at my childhood dining room table, chewing and chewing and chewing, trying to swallow the very fibrous stems of the overcooked spears. Growing and harvesting your own, and removing the tough bottoms, is a whole 'nother deal, of course, but the memory remains. Still. We had 2 lovely dinners based on them (a pizza and an orzo casserole that John made), and they're still giving us food, with the rhubarb coming in fast on their heels. And ack. I still have some rhubarb in the freezer. What. Wealth.

And. By our somewhat questionable calculation, Jasper is 15 years old today. We're not sure that's right. When I questioned his rancher/breeder/owner on Mother's Day of 2020, he said he was 10. He didn't look 10 to me then, and when I said that, the rancher said "I'm not sure. He might be 8". He has a lot of dogs, and a Whole Lot More sheep, so he can be forgiven. Jasper is quite deaf, and his eyesight can't always track the tennis ball. But he hiked a mountain with us today, and greatly enjoyed the picnic at the top. Happy Mother's Day to all of us who have ever nurtured another. And Happy Birthday to you, Jasper. Whenever it may be.

Happiest Easter

I love Easter. It's not just for the Christians. . . it's for those who grow,  and all of the rest of us. Happy Rebirth. It's worth a try.
 

The Body Experiment

 

It all started with these two mugs. I made the smaller white one first. It is hand-built from a brown sculptural clay that has lots of bits in it. I think the speckles are iron, but don't hold me to it. Anyway, I like it for hand-building because it holds its shape well. And you'll notice that this simple design is a far cry from my usual thrown and embellished with botanicals MO. I really liked the feel of that first mug, but wanted it to hold a little more volume, so I made the slightly taller green mug, glazed with Coyote Matt Green. . . a new favorite. Nice. It's my mug-du-jour for now.

But it occurred to me that I don't really have a good handle on how different clay bodies react to the same treatment. So. A slightly controlled experiment. "Slightly" because there's no accounting for human error, especially mine. All three of these mugs were made from the same pattern. From left to right, Grollig porcelain, Liz's White Stoneware, and the brown sculptural clay used for the first two mugs. 

Honestly, I was a little surprised at how little difference the clay body made, expecially between the porcelain and the stoneware. The porcelain shrinks a little more, and both shrink more that the brown, but still. Not a huge difference in form. The porcelain also doesn't hold the round shape quite as well. From this bottom view, that's not so clear, but it is from the rim. 

You'll also be shouting that the glaze (Klaus Hard White) is really different on the brown clay, but surprising similar on the porcelain and the white stoneware. Well observed.

So along with this experiment, I hand-built two vases for the daughters for Easter. Don't worry. They never read this, so the surprise won't be spoiled. Mom never writes anything important. Smile.

The building went extremely well, and I'm proud of both of the forms. The Trillium (left) is porcelain and the Lily is Liz' white stoneware, and you really can't see much difference. . .even on the unglazed clay on the bottom.

I used a blue to green glaze, and I'm sorry for that. Maybe I just have white on the brain, but I think they would have been more stunning in the Klaus Hard White. . .a white satin finish would have let the applique forms stand out. Note that what appears to be gray areas. . .splotches, unfortunately. . .are not real. They're a result of the reflection of the shiny glaze. 

But. They re fine and useful gifts. If they aren't loved, they can go to the thrift store! If they are, YAY! I love nothing more than making an object for a person. Whoever it is, they are in my mind for the whole process, and feeling that connection is truly wonderful.

 

Early Spring in Mid-Maine. . .

French Mountain in the mist

I woke up with a sense of dread yesterday. That's not so unusual these days. What fresh hell would await in reading the newspaper? And how long would we have a newspaper to read?

So. You can see my mood. The dreary weather was not much of a help. I'd decided to go to French Mountain, about a 20 minute drive away, because I felt like Jasper and I needed a change. It was raining pretty hard for the drive over, and I almost stopped at another trailhead to do a very short walk, and run away back to the comfort of our indoor spaces.

Clearing. Early spring in Maine

I have no idea why I kept going. . .it was really raining, and even though I'm invincible in Wellies and an umbrella, I was just not looking forward to it. This is highly unusual for me. Jasper, of course, is always ready for a walk. By the time we parked and hiked to the top of the mountain, the rain had stopped, and we could see the lake through the mist. I realize that those of you who are experiencing true spring will not be impressed with these images, but it was so heartening for me.

You can never go wrong with treats. . .

 

 

 I pulled out the treats, and we celebrated. Then we headed down the mountain. The drive back was lovely, I came home feeling energized and like I might be able to Do Something to slow the onslaught. Then I took a chance, and opened the kiln to see what the kiln Gods, with whom I am never on the best of terms, might give me.

That's fodder for the next post. Be well. Keep trudging.

 

An early spring video

 3rd Bridge on the Messalonskee Stream Trail

Click on the link above.  I thought I'd share a little bit of this morning's hike. It is a quintessential early spring day in central Maine today. Overcast, but bright. Highs in the 40's lows around freezing. Mud season has clearly begun, but that's ok. Wellies and dog feet work just fine. 

Bravehearts

Daffodils giving it a go

Someone has to be first. These daffodils have emerged from under the snow. Testing the waters. Braving the wilds. Hoping for the possibility of spring. Warmer weather. Bravo.

The Cranesbill (some call it wild geranium) is also sailing forth. It's a little more tentative. Staying low. Ready to retreat at any moment. 

Cranesbill

Not really. The point is, Spring may actually come again this year. Jasper and I had a long walk today, and neither of us could have been happier. Sadly, the trail we were on may be closed in the next couple of months. Inland hospital, which owns some of the trail property, and has been a solid supporter of the trails, is being closed. Sold, and it is unclear whether the new owners will continue to support the trail. 

 This trail, like many others, is supported by many owners of the properties involved. Getting permissions for installing them, finding funding to do so. . .all of this was done by previous generations of outdoors enthusiasts. It's up to us, now, to try to keep the whole system going. I fear that our work is just beginning.

L to R: Porcelain, Stoneware, Sculptural

Regarding things I have a little more control over, I decided to conduct a clay body experiment. It sounds more interesting than you may find it. I want to determine exactly how the three different types of clays (the type is called a "body") compare when hand building. So. I've started with 3 mugs (of my new favorite style), one out of porcelain, one out of stoneware, and one out of a brown sculptural clay that is mixed with grog, a stabilizing ingredient. Here is the beginning. These are all green ware right now, meaning they are mostly dry, but completely unfired. They still need a bit of cleanup, but this image will document the basics.

 

It's been a minute. . .

We have been away. For quite a while. We took a trip to Duluth to see our younger daughter and her partner. Driving. From Maine. This is, of course, kind of a crazy thing to do in March, but we wanted to see them and their new home, and we have time. It's odd how when you're retired, you realize that you don't have much time in a larger sense (years), but that you can Take Time because you don't have so many obligations. I made a piece once called "Taking time (like a thief in the night)". It is an odd phrase, isn't it? Taking Time.

Anyway! We had a terrific trip. We drove northwest out of Maine and into Quebec Canada, a bit east of Montreal. I'm amazed at how much wonderful hiking there is all along the way. Googlemaps has helped us find trails more easily. To be fair, not all were navigable (pack ice was mostly the problem), but many were, and Jasper, once again, served as both our exercise machine and our seeing eye dog.

Our first night was in Broussard, which is a town just East of Montreal. It's being developed as a destination shopping/eating/etc. place. The "etc." didn't include hiking, unfortunately, but we had a terrific meal, a twelfth floor suite, and a good night's rest before heading on. Hikes included a beautiful park in Ottawa (comparable to Central Park in New York, I think), and we saw soil that day. The whole point of our taking a trip in March has, in the past, been to See Soil, which is necessary for both Jasper and me (Jasper does more than see it), but we really wanted to see Sarah, and our previous destinations to the south didn't feel right this year.

The Canadians were unfailing kind to us. There is a good bit of evidence of the troubles the U.S. has caused them. The tariffs and their effects are on the nightly news, as are many of Trumps most recent tantrums, and "Buy Canada" signs are everywhere now. We didn't see those when we visited Quebec in November. We intentionally spent money whenever we could, and I also took what small opportunities that presented themselves to apologize to folks we ran into; usually hiking or eating.

We drove West on the Trans-Canada highway until Sault-St.-Marie, where we took a left, and crossed the Upper Peninsula. It was in going across the UP that we were glad that we hadn't brought the EV with us. Where Canada has quite developed charging infrastructure, the UP doesn't. . .in fact, many places even in the East of the United States lack charging infrastructure. A sad comment on our dealing with climate change. Small sigh.

We drove along the south side of Lake Superior and reached Duluth. There is no doubt that Lake Superior is very ocean-like. I wondered why these lakes aren't called "seas", and it turns out that a sea is, by definition, salt water. Duluth is an industrial city. . .perhaps more in the past than now, but it remains very industrial looking. The city itself is very bohemian in feel . .  . we stayed in a beautiful old hotel called Fitgers, and could walk to The Duluth Trading Company. 

This proved handy, since John needed a particular pair of their trousers that were actually in stock! We could walk out the door of the hotel, and go to the long stretch of harbor-walk. I think we could have walked for miles, though our walks were shortened by the wind. Fortunately, it wasn't terribly cold.

After 5 great days with Sarah and John-the-younger, we came back via Thunder Bay and the northern route through Canada along Lake Superior. We had some truly epic dinners in Canada, going in both directions, but the Most epic was at Grotto, in Thunder Bay. This is another industrial looking town that does a good job of being liveable.

The northern route along Lake Superior proved to be absolutely beautiful.. . one stunning view of the lake and the surrounding mountains after the next. It was long, though, and finding food and lodging in some of the rural towns along the way was tough. We agreed that we were glad we did it, and would not likely travel that way again.

Our last night was spent in St. Jean Sur Richelieu, east of Quebec City. It was a really great small city/large town with lots of restaurants and a wonderful canal trail that ran between the canal and the Richelieu River. Onward the next day, now seriously leaning toward home. We had the interior of the house painted in our absence, and I have to say it was truly wonderful to come home to that. Our last day of travel was the only one that was a little dicey weather-wise, but all told, we were incredibly lucky with the weather, with our children's happiness, and with Jasper's extraordinary travel ability.

Snow Shadows and other beautiful things

A house of love for bluebirds!

Valentine's Day is a little past, but I've been saving this image. It's John's Valentine's Day gift to me. . . a Bluebird Box. So romantic. I can hardly contain myself. He has a gift for gifts, at least sometimes. I got him a box of The Chocolat Bar's caramels. Delicious, but not nearly as romantic.

This winter has had long stretches of exceptional cold. If it wasn't grossly inconveniencing Jasper, I'd be ok with it. It's given me a chance to get back to my violin, and to specifically take my bows in for re-hairing. What a revelation that turned out to be. The gentleman who is doing the job lent me a bow while he works on mine, and I could NOT believe how much better my tone is with it. I knew that the last guy to re-hair my bows was a fledgling luthier, but I had no idea how much difference good bow hair could make.

 

But I digress. As the title suggests, I've found myself enamored of snow shadows. John and I walk with Jasper every evening, and when the moon is bright, the shadows on the snow are so beautiful that they still my heart. Make me gasp. I haven't gotten it together to try to capture them with my little video machine, but I did take this video of the snow shadows in the sun. This was taken when Jasper and I were walking on the Inland Hospital trail. I see these every time I look out my windows here, too. We are so lucky.

 Snow Shadows Video

Boots, please. It's cold out here.

And of course, here is Jasper, duded up for the snow and cold. He has actually refused to walk when it's in single digits without his boots. This is remarkable, given his fondness for walking, so I take it seriously.

And while I have you here, I thought I'd show you how I photograph my work. John built a glazing booth for me in my studio. It has a good quality kitchen vent and light, as well as a tray for draining any mess. There is plenty of mess when I glaze. But because it has translucent walls, I can also use it as a photo booth, with a few adjustments.

The Glazing booth

 I use a Gradient backdrop that I clip on to the back wall, and can then place my piece on the backdrop. I use an old Coolpix camera, which has a great closeup adjustment, and a tripod to minimize movement. It works quite well. I love putting together these tools and pieces of equipment, using my brain, my indulgent tech and inflicting minimal fiscal pain for my efforts.

Sorry for the blurry image of the photo booth, but you get the idea.

 

Voila. Now a photo booth

Because the light has a lot of yellow in it, I use Photoshop to correct that. I can also erase any errant dust that sneaks into my image. But the image itself is in it's original state. While I developed this technique for close ups of jewelry for my website, it's adapted nicely to larger works in ceramics.

New pottery foibles

Time in the studio has been kind of precious. I've made some new twists to some old forms, am trying new glazing approaches (argh) and just doing some basic skill building. I really learned the lessons of clay bodies this time around. I had some white stoneware to use up, but most of these pieces were made from a coarse brown sculptural clay. I remembered the lesson of dyeing brown eggs instead of white, and wondered if some of those sumptuous intense colors might also reveal themselves on brown clay.

Perhaps oddly, the white speckled mug at the right turned out to be my favorite. It is hand built. It has some flaws. . .it is a little too small for my mug taste. But the Very Sturdy brown clay held its shape beautifully, took texture well, and all of those speckles are from the clay, not the glaze. The glaze is just a flat white glaze called Klaus Hard White.

No mug collection is complete without me trying more variations on the Lily mug. The left mug is also small for a mug. . . almost more of an espresso size (but not quite), but the larger of these two is pretty much perfect. I think I can stop working on this particular set of variations! I do love it, though. They are mostly for right handed people, though I can drink using my left hand as well from these. . . the appliques don't interfere with lip contact!

Last of the mugs in this batch is the larger brown mug to the right. John claimed this for his own as soon as he saw it. It is also thrown, and the inside glaze is white, with the outside being a flat macha cacao. Again, all of those speckles are compliments of the clay body. It also takes texture well, as evidenced by the little bit on the handle.

The big experiment of this group was the hand-built pitcher to the left. It's relatively large (maybe 14" tall?) and was inspired by this pitcher we saw at a restaurant in Freeport. 

I don't know what possessed me to make the handle more Asian looking. . .maybe inspired by the texture I applied? Anyway, inspiration is everywhere. One just needs to see.

Finally, a couple of bowls and a new tumbler. The tumbler had the same lesson is clay sturdiness. Previous tumblers have gotten at least a little misshapen in the firing process. This clay body, though the same thickness as some stoneware and porcelain tumblers I've made, refuses to let the heat alter her. Let us all be so sturdy.

 

 

Small lives

I have a maiden hair fern that I brought home shortly after moving here, more than 3 years ago now. She has proven to be a bit of a drama queen, requiring daily watering, not-to-much sun, but enough-sun, and really prefers to be misted daily as well. I find her worth the extra bit of effort, even though she returns my efforts modestly. Hers is a small delicate beauty, and one slip up in the watering schedule can result in a dead frond. Let that be a warning to you. Me. But given the above careful regime, she gives me these tiny brown stems. The new leaves are balled up like little fists initially, extending themselves into green fronds after a week or two.

I love that careful observation gives us this gift. A small life that embellishes our own.

We three decided to take a road trip yesterday. It was originally planned for Sunday (we still, oddly, adhere to weekday and weekend schedules in spite of our retired status), but temperatures inspired a move to Monday. Our destination was Bath. I had remembered a conversation when we were first looking for a new home. It was with a waitress, I think, and when asked where she thought the best place in the area was to live, she had responded "Bath. Look in Bath." We did, but there was nothing available we could afford, and that still likely is the case.

However, it is a beautiful town. A classic coastal New England tourist destination which is absolutely lovely and mostly tourist free this time of year. I found a nice hike that was close to town, and we three had a lovely snowy hike. We met a very friendly native with her equally friendly Bearnaise Mountain Dog, and had a lovely chat and some trail advice.

Jasper has finally acquired boots worthy of himself, by the way. This is our third pair, and I'm hoping that these. . .with the gaiters incorporated. . .will at long last stay on. He may look a little put out in this photo, but he really loves cavorting with them in the very cold snow.

The view at the top of the trail was lovely, and there is a lot left to explore in subsequent trips. I forgot to take a photo of the map at the trailhead before we left, so was reluctant to travel too far off the main trail. Still. A decent workout, a lovely view, and Jasper tired enough for us to lunch in downtown Bath. We ate at Burano's, a place with great pizza, a decent beer selection, and service that was stellar. 

There were plenty of other places to explore, though, and we made an essential stop at the downtown bakery and the Artists' Cooperative, which represented some very impressive folks. There were 4 felters, for goodness sake. I doubt there's another gallery in the country that can boast that. Smile.

The weather was warm; well, Maine warm which was just over 32F. The day clear. The feeling deceptively hopeful. 

But now is not the time to wax in comfort. Write your congress people, Ladies and Gentlemen. The takeover has begun, and we can't Not Stand Up.