Showing posts with label ; upstate New York. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ; upstate New York. Show all posts

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Weaving Excuses














On a day when I should have been at home doing things, I wasn't. We have passels of beloveds coming to town for the Thanksgiving holiday and I should have spent the day baking and vacuuming. But I didn't.

Instead,  I tiptoed out of church early and drove north on Route 9N. I meandered through Greenfield Center, up to Corinth and into the Adirondack Park, and then followed the Hudson River into the village of Lake Luzerne.

It was a bit of a sentimental journey for me. Many years ago, maybe thirty-eight or so, my very first job as a teacher was in Luzerne, teaching in the Hadley-Luzerne elementary school, in a classroom that overlooked the lake. I worked there for six years, before taking some time off to be at home with my own children. And when I returned to work, I moved to a different school district, so it had been some time since I'd been back to Luzerne. I have to say, it was looking lovely today, despite the blustery November weather.

But this day, I was headed to another school there, the Adirondack Folk School.  Our Malta Rotary Club had recently had as a guest speaker Scott Hayden, the director of the Folk School. Scott had brought samples of some of the crafts they teach there and I was intrigued. So, I signed up for a one-afternoon class on weaving. We would weave simple rugs from rags.

The class size was limited to four. Floor looms take up a lot of space and beginners need a lot of help. My fellow students and I fell into a certain demographic: we were all grey-haired ladies of a certain age. Carolyn, our instructor, will probably sleep well tonight. We kept her hopping.

Looms are tricky things and one of ours was not behaving. Fortunately, my loom had only a few idiosyncrasies, and four hours later, with a good deal of help and advice,  I had made a rug.  In fact, we all managed to produce rugs.

It was really a lot of fun. The studio overlooked the beginning of Rockwell Falls on the Hudson, and although it was a blustery day, we were cozy and companionable in our classroom. Other classes were going on at the Folk School that afternoon, too. I saw a basket-making class and heard some tap tap tapping going on in the basement. Not sure what they were making, but it all sounded like Santa's workshop.

I still had a few finishing details to do on my rug when I got home this evening: tying off the fringed edges and tidying up loose ends. But when I laid it out to appraise the final product, Shea, our small dog, gave the rug her full approval. No, it won't win any prizes, but I had fun.

So to my dear family arriving soon to a far less than perfectly tidy house, um, well... can I show you the cool rug I just made?
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The Adirondack Folk School is located at  51 Main Street in Lake Luzerne, NY.  Find out more about their classes and programs at their website here: http://www.adirondackfolkschool.org/







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Saturday, October 7, 2017

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

















Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

My Handsome Husband quoted Keats as we walked along a branch of the Zim Smith Trail in Malta this week.

It is late in the season for woodland wildflowers. Most of what remains are asters, although a few other plants still valiantly bloom in an occasional sunny spot. But fruits and brown seed heads abound to provide their own beauty and add interest to the landscape.

And it was a beautiful day.

Nature is such a healer. Being outdoors, moving, observing, admiring, breathing: it all feels so good, so healthy, so peaceful. In a season when our country has lately witnessed so much destruction and human misery, both natural and man-made, it is good to have a place to go to walk quietly, to be quiet.

We live in a town where development is gobbling up the open spaces. I worry that there is not enough attention being paid to preserving land for future parks and nature areas. 

Here is what lured many of us to come live in this town in the first place: the sense of community, the grazing horses, the great blue herons, the wild turkeys, the views across the upper Hudson Valley. All of these things are rapidly disappearing in Malta. It makes me sad. Many of us grouse about development and increased traffic,  but I wonder: do we have the energy and enough consensus to push back, to advocate for land preservation, safe sidewalks, biking lanes, historical preservation, and a healthy environment? I hope so.


***
Today, I picked up a knitting project that has been lying around undisturbed for far too long. My notes tell me that I started this sweater in September (cough) of 2015. I know that I am not the only knitter/sewer/crafter who sometimes sets things aside for long spells, for any number of reasons. But it aggravates me when I think about how close to finishing this project I was when I pushed it aside. Grrr. (For you knitters, the pattern is the Ramona cardigan, found on Ravelry.)

But now that this sweater has returned to active duty, so to speak,  I  have finished one sleeve and am "well begun" on the second. ( I can hear Mary Poppins in my head as I write this. She was fond of the expression, Well begun is half done. I believe  she was quoting Aristotle. Really. Look it up.)

The wool I am knitting is heavy and warm and still has bits of straw in it. It comes from neighboring Washington County sheep and the Battenkill mill there. I am happy to report that in Washington County, there is still room for grazing sheep and wading herons and preserved history and amazing views. Long may those things thrive there.

Wishing you peace on this fall weekend.

~~
To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
                             ~John Keats









Sunday, August 6, 2017

Company in the garden


Giant Swallowtail
Io moth caterpillar (?) on Carolina moonbeam baptisia

Cabbage butterfly on lavender 

cricket or katydid (?) on a Sweet Sammie daylily


Silver spotted skipper moth on beebalm

Bumblebee on beebalm


Everything sure goes to pot quickly in a garden when you go away for a week. But today wasn't too hot so I hauled tools and receptacles out to a section of the garden and got busy. 

Weeds got pulled, daylilies were deadheaded, spent plants were cut back and add to the compost pile.

I don't mind weeding when it isn't too hot or humid and one side benefit is meeting the creatures who keep me company there. A few, like a monarch butterfly,  were too quick for my camera, but here above is a sampling of who was working along side of me today. I am not a hundred percent sure of my identifications. Feel free to correct me where I may be wrong.

If I am right about the Io caterpillar and if you should also find one, please don't pick it up. The spiky bristles on Ios can cause a sting-like reaction. But they sure are handsome, nonetheless.

It's nice to see more bees this year. They were sparse in 2016, but more pollinators and a greater variety of them seem to be hanging out here this summer. 

What is missing from my garden in 2017 are toads and snakes. I think I have only seen two toads and not a single snake this year. I suspect the two things are related. Garter snakes eat toads and with almost no toads around, I guess there wasn't much to entice the snakes to hang out here.  I don't miss the snakes, thank you very much, but changes in my garden's ecosystem always make me worry and wonder why they have occurred. 

What changes have you noticed this year?


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Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Eye of the Beholder

















Ugh. This is not the time of year when the Northeast looks its best. It is grumpy season here, when winter has held on just a little too long, when mud is the dominant feature of our backyard.

And yet, this morning, when I looked out the back door, there it was, that yellowing up of the forsythia bark, especially noticeable against the still-gray woods. I ventured out with my camera and sure enough, there are fat green forsythia buds just waiting for a warm spell.

The small dogwood tree near the house has plumped up buds, too. Like a good gardener, I continue my inspection. While a casual observer may see only mud and mess, I know where to look for signs of promise and to me, beauty.

A hydrangea shrub still has a few flowers clinging on from last fall. Delicate chestnut-colored shad-bush buds are lengthening. The soundtrack for my walk around the yard was birdsong and babbling brook.

Under the shelter of a limbed-up spruce tree, the rhododendron is also sporting thickening flower buds.

Around in front, the bark of red-twig dogwoods is aglow. There are still some red blossoms left from the winter's bloom of the witch hazel. In a sunny spot, early daffodils are inching up.

Now is the time of year when I appreciate evergreen shrubs and hardy lavenders. I have made a mental note to plant more.  We need more plants for winter interest, I often think in March. But flibbertigibbet that I am, I lose that thought come May and June, when iris and peonies and such are filling up the spaces that look so empty now.

We recently had two ailing Norway maples cut down. I was glad to have that taken care of before birds could start building nests there. We have lived in this house for eleven years now, and for all of that time, two weathered soccer balls have been stuck in the top branches of one of those maples. They were artifacts left from the three boys who lived here before us. When the tree guys took that maple down, the balls were finally freed, and the young men in the work crew began kicking the soccer balls around to each other. It was a funny moment.

After the crew left, I found the soccer balls set neatly at the edge of the garden. I can't quite bring myself to throw them away just yet.




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