Sloowllly Friday, Mar 14 2014 

Spring really is coming, despite high winds and almost zero last night (albeit with a lovely moon and stars).  The horse is shedding vigorously, the birds are contemplating nest building, and beneath the hydrangea next to the west stairs where there is SW exposure, heavy foundations, and little snow cover there are one or two crocus determined to come up.  I think there may also be some snowdrops coming up through the snow over under one of the hemlocks as well.

I have yet to get the three apple trees and the overgrown yew on the west lawn pruned into shape, an annual haircut that usually happens in February.  Maybe I’ll get to work on them tomorrow.

I did have lovely scramble through the woods this morning looking for a property line for the Land Trust.  It was about 12, overcast, and dead calm.  Excellent for the work, because half the line was in a swamp which is impassable in the summer.  It was frozen solid.  On the other hand… the other half was up one of those New England hillsides that is composed of rock falls and determined trees.  We were wishing for crampons at several points….the snow, like the swamp, was frozen solid, hard enough for a man to walk across, and icy.  Traction was minimal.  We came down a different route!

For the entertainment of the locals Wednesday, Mar 12 2014 

An excerpt from a letter dated 1857….’Plus ça change!’

Julie writing to Morris:

“These abominable people brought me a bill of eleven dollars for that good-for-nothing sewer down in Albany Street – which profits us not at all. Might as well not have any government as one which rules by oppression. I hate Hartford and there’s the end of it. It is a cold raw disagreeable stiff forlorn uncomfortable place and I wish I was out of it.”

She never did really get out of Hartford, living there every winter for the rest of her life, though there were a few trips to New Orleans after the Civil War.  But she did get out of it in the summer time finally.

They did not, by the way, live on or near Albany Street.  So the sewer really didn’t profit them.  Those who know the goings on around here will agree that the arguments haven’t changed much…

Looking Back Tuesday, Mar 11 2014 

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Snow and Mud Monday, Mar 10 2014 

I have a suspicion that we are going to have an actual mud season for once.

The sap looks like it is finally running out there for maple syrup.  A little later, by almost two weeks, than usual. Around here there is usually a brief run in January and then a consistent run from late February through March. Hard to say if anything decent will be produced.

Somewhere under the snow I suspect there are leucojum and galanthus (snowflakes and snowdrops) popping up and presumably crocus (if the voles haven’t eaten them all).  I really ought to go look at the south end of the west porch where there is a bunch right against a sunny stone foundation…

Dancing Trees and Shadows Saturday, Mar 8 2014 

Since winter isn’t giving up here, two pictures from yesterday morning:

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I sort of think the balanced red maple, nicely silhouetted by the beech leaves here, almost has the air of a Kokopelli…a very, very long way from home!

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The shadow of the trunk of the big oak, almost covering Happy Thought in this picture, it looked like a giant hand when I first saw it.

Argh Friday, Mar 7 2014 

We’ll wander off to the personal here briefly.

I am not a feminist, not by any stripe, to be quite blunt I’ve seen the damage the feminist movement has managed to do in academia and I want no part of that hypocrisy.

That being said….is it too much to ask? All I want at this point is a decent pair of work boots to replace an excellent pair that I demolished through several years of work.  You know, something modestly waterproof, high ankle, good shock absorption (Try slamming your foot down on a shovel in sneakers, I dare you), long lasting, something tough enough that when a weed whacker equipped with a brush blade goes wrong you still have a foot and ankle…. that sort of thing.

Guys can find such boots by the hundred.  Women not so much.  I had my choice of cowboy boots (useless, vapid things) or a single pair of poorly built work boots with PINK flowers and Turquoise Hearts embroidered on the leather.

Needless to say, the brick and mortar store didn’t get my business. It turns out that Amazon carried the exact replacement of my previous pair, albeit with steel toes which I don’t need but won’t mind.  Thank you Amazon.

Now if they come before I need to walk a boundary line for the land trust in the middle of a swamp sometime in the next week I’ll be quite happy.

Broken Storm Thursday, Mar 6 2014 

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Mardi Gras 1891 Tuesday, Mar 4 2014 

Probably both Morris Smith and his daughter, Carlotta, were in New Orleans.  Morris had business interests in the city and continued to visit there until he retired.  Both Carlotta and Fannie spent a great deal of time in New Orleans; Helen and her family never did as far as I can tell.

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Jewelry Monday, Mar 3 2014 

Taking a break from Grey and Cold here (and yes, I know it is slightly out of focus!):
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Cercis canadensis (Eastern Redbud) branches seen from above.  It blooms in May and the flower buds occur all along branches, and sometimes even on very old trunks.

An extremely tough tree, native to eastern North America (there are related species elsewhere in both North and Central America, Asia, and Europe). The seed pods, which look like snow peas, are a winter food for chickadees, woodpeckers, and other tough little over-wintering birds.  The wood and bark is very fibrous and it is relatively resistant to rot, allowing it survive breaks/tears caused by storm damage, which is good because it tears easily.

The little blue flower in the lawn below is gill-over-the-ground, also known as ground ivy, it accounts for most of the east lawn.

see also: https://acairfearann.com/2011/08/20/cercis-canadensis/

February Snow Friday, Feb 28 2014 

The cedars, (are) suspended

On an ice bridled shore

Between a waiting forest

And (the) black water

That coils beneath deepening ice

The wind bites

And (it) brings to me

The mournful wail of a southbound train

I could go

Far from the snow locked marshes

(Far from) The polished drifts of a frozen land

(But) All noise fades to silence

I bow my head to the whitened world

Walking north

*Meh, I can’t get it tweaked right. Not written about here by the way, but about rural Ontario.  Though last night here was certainly fitting

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