Dead Giants

(Moon and elm.  All photos © 2009 by Robin)

Two large elm trees on our property will be coming down as soon as the weather is warm enough and dry enough.  They have succumbed to Dutch elm disease.  There is no saving the trees as they are quite dead.

(Sun and elm.)

While out on my walk yesterday I took (too) many photographs of them as it seemed to me that these beautiful giants deserve some sort of recognition.  They provided shade for us during the hot summer months and a frame for many a gorgeous sunset.  Walking near them on a windy day is now a dangerous proposition as branches and large chunks of bark come flying off at amazing speeds.

We would normally leave the trees to die and come down on their own, providing a home for some of the wildlife.  However, they’re located near my vegetable garden and I’ve already been hit by small pieces of bark while out there looking around.  I’d hate to have half the tree come crashing down on me while I was weeding.

What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?

~ Pablo Neruda

Paying attention

(Feeling small.  Photo © 2009 by Robin)

Sometimes during the day, I consciously focus on some ordinary object and allow myself a momentary “paying-attention.”  This paying-attention gives meaning to my life.  I don’t know who it was, but someone said that careful attention paid to anything is a window into the universe.  Pausing to think this way, even for a brief moment, is very important.  It gives quality to my day.

~ Robert Fulghum

More photos and a bit about this morning’s hike at Life in the Bogs.

Bitter cold

(Sunlight & shadows on snow.  Photo © 2009 by Robin.)

Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold.  For if you put on more clothes as the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you.  So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrong, and they will then be powerless to vex your mind.

~ Leonardo Da Vinci

New Year’s Greetings

(Photo © Robin)

It depends on us… Another year lies before us like an unwritten page, an unspent coin, an unwalked road.  How the pages will read, what treasure will be gained in exchange for time, or what we find along the way, will largely depend on us.

~ Esther Baldwin York

I’ve been away for a little while, off having fun with family and friends.  If you’re interested in some of the details, visit me over at Life in the Bogs sometime in the next day or two.  Don’t go today though, as I don’t think I’ll get to it.

Wooly bears

(Wooly bear caterpillar. October 2008.  Photo © Robin)

The other day Bo at Seeded Earth mentioned the wooly bear caterpillars.  I hadn’t yet seen any this month so I went out on a hunt.  Lucky me, it was an easy and successful hunt.  I found one crawling along the back of the house.

As Bo wrote, legend has it that the wooly bear caterpillar can predict whether or not the upcoming winter will be mild or severe.  The wider the middle brown band, the milder the winter.

There’s a great webpage about the wooly bear and its weather forecasting abilities here.

Every year in October, in a town not too far from where I live, they hold the Woolybear Festival.  One of these years M and I might make it up there to attend.  Just for fun and giggles.

According to the wooly bear pictured above, we’re going to have a mild winter.

I’ll let you know if this particular wooly bear’s prediction is a good one or not.  So far, it has been a pretty mild autumn.  Only two real frosts and one day of snow.  Up until the month of February, when winter has pretty much worn out its welcome, I kind of like the snow so I hope winter isn’t too mild.

P.S.  For those interested, I’m NaBloPoMo‘ing over at Life in the Bogs.

Doors

(Doorway into the woods. October 2008.  Photo © Robin)

When you follow your bliss… doors will open where you would not have thought there would be doors; and where there wouldn’t be a door for anyone else.

~ Joseph Campbell

Orange you glad…

(Pair of tangerines. 2007.)

Osh over at Deaf Pagan Crossroads emailed me with a request for the color orange.  Here ya go, Osh.  Orange, in all its glory.  Well… maybe not all.  But some of its glory.

I don’t know why I put off orange for so long.  It’s not as if I hate the color or anything.  In fact, I’m quite fond of it, especially this time of year.  (To be honest, the real reason I put off orange was because it takes me a ridiculously long time to put these things together and I haven’t had much in the way of spare time now that I’m not forced to rest because of pain/illness.)

(Guy in orange jacket.  2007.)

As I was going through my photographs looking for orange (a color that’s not at all difficult to spot!), I was surprised to find that orange likes to hang around with other colors more often than not.

(Orange in a rainbow.  2008.  © Robin)

(Spots of orange in fall foliage.  Pennsylvania.  2007.)

Oh sure, it occasionally stands out all by itself…

(Mini-pumpkin before the cats mangled it.  2007.)

(Bigger pumpkins.  2007.)

(Biggest pumpkin.  2007)

But in most of my photos orange is buddying up to some other color or colors.

(Orange and yellow flowers.  2008)

Red beet eggs revisited

(Red beet eggs. March 2007. © Robin)

Last year I posted a photo of red beet eggs along with a recipe. M and I were living in our temporary digs in West Chester, PA at the time, and I didn’t have my recipes with me. The recipe I posted was one I found on the internet which I tried to tweak in order to come up with a recipe closely resembling the one I use.

The red beet egg post is popular around Easter. I reckon everyone is trying to figure out what to do with all those hard-boiled Easter eggs once the coloring and Easter egg hunts are over.

Pickling is a good way to go because they’ll last a few weeks. Perhaps more than a few weeks, but they always get eaten in under a month in my house, particularly when M the Younger is at home. (Side note: You can thank M the Younger for this post as he put in a request yesterday for red beet eggs. I’ll be making a batch of them tomorrow.)

I’m once again getting lots of hits from folks searching for red beet egg recipes. Now that I’m home, with recipes at hand, I thought I’d post my mother-in-law’s recipe for red beet eggs. It is, as far as I’m concerned, the superior Lancaster county recipe for red beet eggs.

Jane’s Red Beet Eggs

• 2 cups cider vinegar
• 1¼ cups sugar
• 2 cans (16 oz.) sliced red beets
• 1 cup water

Mix ingredients and heat until sugar dissolves. Pour over hard boiled eggs (up to a dozen depending on the size of your container) and refrigerate.

It’s best to put the eggs, beets, etc., in a glass jar for storage in the fridge unless you don’t mind some staining of your plastic ware. I use a big pickle jar.

As stated in the previous post on this subject, you can reuse the pickling mixture for another batch of eggs. After that you should dump it as it loses its flavor. Or eat the beets if you like pickled beets. (I don’t.)

Happy Easter to those of you out there celebrating it!

Saving graces

(Day lily at Longwood Gardens. December 2007. © Robin)

I can understand people simply fleeing the mountainous effort Christmas has become … but there are always a few saving graces and finally they make up for all the bother and distress.

~ May Sarton

White, white, white

(Nature’s holiday decorations. December 2007. © Robin)

Everything is equal in the snow: all trees, all lawns, all streets, all rooftops, all cars. Everything is white, white, white, as far as you can see. Covered by snow, the well-kept and neglected lawns look the same. The snow hides the shiny newness of a just-bought car as effectively as it does the rust and dents of a ten-year-old one. Everything looks clean and fresh and unmarred by time or use. Snow, like the silent death it counterfeits, is a great leveler.

~ Adrienne Ivey

It started snowing again while we slept last night. The snow is still coming down, quite heavily, as the morning grows old.

(Blizzard. December 2007. © Robin)

This would be a good day to learn how to snowshoe.

(The disappearing pond. December 2007.  © Robin)