Random Selections from the Blog
Click here for another random selectionShining Silver
I have honored Santa Argenta, the patron saint of gleaming metal, and polished silver twinkles on the table I have set for the first of our pair of Thanksgiving dinners, the modest meal I share with my Dear One and my Tattooed Boy on Thursday evening that precedes the far more ambitious spread on Saturday….
Molasses, Ginger and Rain
Yesterday’s moisting turned into today’s steady downpour—a good thing as I need to correct essays and grade quizzes. In the woods, a muddy stream undulates through the woods, hanging a sharp left to pass under the fallen tree that provided deer shelter during the worst of the February snow. Elsewhere the ground gleams with a…
The Gardener’s Gene
Is there a time-release bit of gardener’s DNA in the human genome that wakes up when one reaches “a certain age”? As a child and under duress from my mother I planted zinnia seeds. I didn’t particularly care for the flowers–I think Ma had some sense that they were easy to grow and that success…
One-One-Two Thousand and Twelve
A mild January day is a gift any time but on New Year’s Day it seems a good omen. Most every January 1 my Dear One and I go walking, partly to allow the miasma of rich meals, welcomes prepared, and emotions charged to dissipate, mostly to regain the sense of us that we feel…
To Knead or Not To Knead
My Dear One decided to bake. I noticed because there were a couple of plastic buckets left over from some construction job in the oven—a sure sign of yeast at work. For whatever reason—cabin fever, a short supply of good rye bread in the freezer, the sudden urge to make up for previous failures–he quietly…
I Got to See the Ponies
I love horses. I always have. I was a typically horse-crazy girl, collecting china figurines, assembling the stable of my dreams on note cards (drawing on one side, statistics on the other), reading everything published by Walter Farley and Marguerite Henry as well as every story featuring a horse I could find. When my Dear…
WWI: Ah-Rahss not A Rat
What is not to love about this set of light-filled rooms on the second floor, with their old beams and serene quiet. The occasional vehicle rumbles by on the street beyond the kitchen. From the other side horses nicker conversationally. Gîte Les Tilleuls, “Lime Trees,” is also a working stable. We are up early this…
Happy Birthday to Me!
January 5th is the best day to have a birthday and there seemed to be no shortage of warm wishes from the cosmos. 2012 is, I hope, an auspicious moment to enter, along with the Today Show, a seventh decade. My Dear One devised the perfect plan: leave the car in Wilmington and take the…
Scary Ellen Buys a Car
Saturday night my Dear One and I were up to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to celebrate brother T’s 50th birthday. It was a wonderful party and about a hundred people representing every phase of his life were there to offer felicitations. I also found it an unnerving experience. T is the youngest sibling; the eldest among us,…
An English Wedding 11: A Very Good Night
How can something as large as a train station be so invisible? We confirmed the location of the Burnham train station and left with what we felt was plenty of time to get there, buy tickets and await the train. Problem was the station was nowhere to be found. We circled around, checked a side…
