when the call comes . . .
Twelve days of attending to what happens at twelve o'clock in your sanctum leading to the discovery of omens to weave a year with . . .
And just like that, after painting Wood Duck last month, two have returned to the pond to paddle. Not for long though, as our dog flushes them out and they wing up through cloudy skies, circling round and round to see whether we're gone. Every year they come from wherever they've been to shape a... Continue Reading →
It's that time of year. Time for a new broom to ribbon and anoint before sweeping through our rooms. Give me a broom over a vacuum any day. I love brooms with their long wooden handles and bundled grassy heads. We get ours from the farmers coop, where you'll see truckbeds filled with broomcorn, really... Continue Reading →
We are a house of birds. All spring and summer a family of starlings made their home outside a window, up in a hole under the eaves where a soffit fell out. They'd fly to and fro with worms for their chicks, disappearing and reappearing from in and out the hole. Later they'd hop out... Continue Reading →
It was three weeks ago when I went out to feed our hens. We currently have 12 hens and 3 roosters. I emerged from the coop and heard a most suspicious peeping sound. Looking to investigate, I entered the run and, there in the highest nesting box, was a hen with three chicks! I got... Continue Reading →
Down in the swamp where the spring overflows The brave little chickweed through the winter grows There lies something new to be seen Dark satiny red with a hint of green The brave little chickweed through the winter grows While the roots to the red work deep beneath snows Dark satiny red with a hint... Continue Reading →
it's 0 degrees this morning. the chicken's water is ice, the pond is ice, mate's beard froze to his face while getting the car started this morning, along with the nasal drip suspended from his nose. yet here is this photograph from a street scene in cuba with no cold in sight and it keeps... Continue Reading →
hunters come to kill the bear, do you see her hiding there? the dogs are barking down below the guns are aimed to bring her low the air is thick with scents and smells of spit and beer of sweat and fear the bear is casting out some spells, one reaches us over the whistling... Continue Reading →
finally, here we go . . . . layla was unavailable for photographing the-stollen-goes-into-the-oven-sequence so we're skipping right to the stollen out of the oven and dusted with powdered sugar bit before they age and flavorfully marry . . . in the meantime we're about to devour a loaf 🙂 now you know what a... Continue Reading →