june ketchup

again, i am woefully negligent in my postings and offer a few errant accounts as proof that i was in awe of my surrounding this beautiful month.

first, these lady slippers, discovered on the usual walking route of the leading edge of the property's boundary line. i have seen many such plants deep in our woods, and for years have hoped that they would propagate down the hill. and i swear these were never here before. but this year, thirteen plants, all in one quite visible spot. i wish i had been more aware earlier in their blooming, and have made several notes to self to look for them next spring. 

next, this flash of brilliant blue in my peripheral vision one morning while making coffee. i abandoned the coffee to watch it, and debated leaving the window to get my camera. more and more, i am having those moments when i must choose between watching in quiet awe or grappling with the camera to document. in the end, i went for the camera, shooting rapid boosts of not-very-great photos before he flew. i have never seen a bird this blue, and wonder if it might be an indigo bunting. i expect i won't see one again for a long while.

and finally, these irises, blooming profusely on their own, and covering the unkempt hill up to the woods. they do not last long but they are beautiful while they're there. i'm always happy to see them and silently thank whoever came before me and had the presence of mind to plant them. 

tiny volunteer

the tiniest of lupine plants, nestled among the wild violets under the garden bench, so very far away from any host plant. wondrous...how does this happen?

a spring visit

standing at the open window, washing morning coffee cups and cereal bowls, i am thinking of my mother and how she loved spring. new growth in her garden, geese returning to the river, sitting outside - she was always glad to see winter over. perhaps i get that from her. 

from the corner of my eye, i see something drop like a stone from a high branch of the lilac tree outside. too fast and straight to be a leaf, i think, as i step to the door to investigate. and there she is, right outside my back door.

i have heard cardinals this spring and saw a male from a distance a few weeks back, but never the elusive female. there's no seed out there because i haven't fed winter birds - or winter mice - in years. and there was no male in sight, watching his mate from a high maple or hemlock branch. 

she visits for a long while, then flies back up into the lilac, and finally, off into the deep woods. i took about twenty shots with my telephoto lens, all through a winter-dirty window pane, so as not to disturb and to keep her around as long as i possibly could. 

guest photographer

Over the weekend, the little girl took off up in the back for a woodland walk. before she left, i handed her my point-and-shoot camera and told her to take photos of interesting things she saw. and she did!

bunchberry. i've never seen this here. she identified it back at the house using one of my field guides. i was pretty impressed with both the photo and the research skills. 

a camouflaged toad. can you see it? i couldn't, until she pointed it out to me. 

 new growth on hemlock. she thought it was beautiful and soft. 

bark on a tree. not sure what was so appealing about this one, but she really liked it and was proud of it, so here it is. 

finally, claw marks on a tree - from a bear, she tells me!!

june garden

what's blooming in june?

margarites

morning glories

inherited irises - they came with the house!

lupine - purple and pink

columbine

flight-of-the-butterfly iris

chive blossoms

and this new plant, given to me from her garden by an acquaintance. she doesn't know what it is and neither do i. but i'm watching and documenting and i'll figure it out!

in the garden

for days, i've been here, in the garden. weeding, dividing, transplanting, planning. new growth is always so green and lush and promising, and volunteer plants so surprising. this is my favorite time to be in the garden, before anything even begins to bloom. 

what's this?

this tree's been in my backyard for half my life, yet i have never seen it like this. it's all leafed out, but it has what i can only imagine to be tree "flowers" hanging from the branches. a strange and unusual sight out the back window, that i mostly just want to document here.

purple lilac

since they began to bloom last weekend, i have taken at least a zillion photos of purple lilacs. i am hoping to capture just the right shot, and submit it to the state's lilac photo contest. i entered a few years ago with an adorable shot of the little girl wearing a red sox cap with a lilac pressed right up to her nose. maybe it was too cute - it didn't win. so this time i'm trying for a conventional shot. so far, no luck. i have only a few more days to shoot, then the florets will begin to turn brown and eventually shrivel up - along with my chances of winning.

apple blossom time

still here. enjoying the warmth and beauty of spring. finally. 

antique shades

my favorite pansies. i'm always so happy to find them again. 

at last!

snowdrops, "spring"ing from the soil on shady side of the house, where the snow is just beginning to melt. what a wonderful surprise to see them there this morning...i had forgotten i planted them!

feeling hopeful

as i write this, bright blue sky is turning a steely gray, a winter sky again. but these photos i took not fifteen minutes ago show the skies i awoke to, the hopeful skies, the brilliant ones, blue with white clouds sailing effortlessly. i do hope today is spring.

columbine

through the window, the garden calls. the spring pinks, blues, and purples are in bloom. lupine, iris, wild geranium - and the columbines nodding in the breeze. it's such a mess out here - last year's 'garden club' plants have multiplied wildly, there are still pots still to plant, stubborn weeds to eradicate, and a long-planned patio space to build. but in the early morning light, it's lovely nonetheless.

feels like summer

driving home this evening on the back roads, it finally feels like summer. the air is warm, clouds are puffy, and trees are all leafed out and throwing shadows. the tourists are back and boats are moored on the lake. i pass a wedding party gathering for pictures on a vast green lawn. families are out walking and folks are riding their bicycles. and, driving by the take-out restaurant, the smell of fried food wafts through the open windows.

spring song

early this morning, with windows open without benefit of screen, i heard him before i saw him. a cheery song from the top of the birch tree at the edge of the woods. he was there for the longest time, chirping his greeting to the new day and the new season. and each time he flew to the next highest branch, tiny pollen clouds poofed from each catkin.

easter 2014 - a whole week late

i am busy, busy, busy. i forget to take pictures. and when i do, i forget to post. here are a few easter highlights.

finally, the snow melted and my snowdrops appeared, just in time for the holiday. as soon as the flowers have gone by, i'm moving these bulbs to a place that gets sun!

lemon meringue pie. i've wanted this since january so i promised myself i'd make it for easter dinner. the last time i made lemon meringue pie, i forgot to bake the meringue and i served it to visitors from spain who could not speak english. to say the woman was puzzled is putting it mildly. "mer-en-gay???" she kept asking me. "si!", said i. 

carrots cut like flowers. because i don't have anything better to do at one in the morning on easter sunday!

confetti remnants in the yard from a the first annual confetti-egg celebration. the little girl read about confetti eggs in school and had to make some. she sure had a good time breaking them and watching the confetti fly!

and yes, my annual easter balloon was delivered in secret. again. 

i am blessed with a very good friend. :-)

april woodpile

not much left, and last night there was snow. 

this morning, cold and wind. 

but last night, i heard the first peepers of spring!

robins!

robins, all over my yard! so many robins! in the patches of brown grass and earth, in the crabapple, all over the compost pile. there's so much birdsong and activity this morning, it makes me wish i had gone outside sooner.

morning light

this time of year, when the sun rises due east, i love to stand quietly for a minute and watch the morning light angle its way into the house. it looks hopeful, springlike. and this morning, i hear birdsong.

vernal equinox 2014

spring in new hampshire. 

overnight, nine inches more.  

longing to see green.