Sunday, March 19, 2017

SAP DAYS




Break out the buckets
Go find the taps
Pull on your Wellies
It’s time to tap sap!
Freezing at night-time
And warm in the day
Drill a hole in the tree
And you’re well on your way
To water that’s flowing
Though snow’s in the air
Soon in the shack
You’ll be boiling with care
You’ll sit in the shanty
While big kettles roil
With family and friends
So it wont feel like toil
You’ll laugh and tell jokes
And play some guitar
And talk of the sweetness 
You’ll put in a jar


  I would consider our foray into the world of sugaring at our new house on Three Bear’s Ridge to be a rousing success. We jarred about 4 gallons of delicious syrup, and had a great time doing it. If the weather holds, we may even be able to get a few more days in the shanty.

Thursday, May 12, 2016

Dog Day Afternoon


Silent, 'cept for the birds
Quiet, though the wind's in the trees
Hushed, yet the frogs croak their songs
The buzz in the air, are the bees

The ringing, I see but don't hear
As the fish break the surface to feed
A day by the lake in Springtime
Is all the peace I need


Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Retreat to Move Forward

The Hilltop at Night

I walk through clover up the gentle slope amid twinkling, earthbound stars
The Summer breeze lifts the musky aroma of a well-watered Spring from beneath my feet as I walk
Courting crickets innumerable call to one another above the whispered secrets of the tall, bending grass
Silent explosions of clashing heat and cold silhouette distant treetops, mimicking the lesser flashes of light and life below
 I reach the summit and turn to look back on my ascent
My contented soul overflows, spilling down my cheeks to mingle with the tender drops of fresh rain.





  I penned this while spending five work and play filled days on the inspirational grounds of the Helderberg Writer's Retreat in Voorheesville, NY.
  I was very excited and more than a little nervous when Nanette Blake of  Vagabondage Press first invited me to attend the annual event. Although I've always loved to write, I've only just recently begun to share my work and am still quite sensitive about it. The thought of a group of writers analyzing my writing was intimidating, to say the least.
  I swallowed my self-doubts and began to prepare for my new adventure.
   Upon arrival , I found my excitement was merited, my nerves were not. I couldn't have asked for a  more supportive, fun-loving group of women to indoctrinate me.
   We started the extended weekend with cocktails, laughter and lobsters; A sure-fire way to start any undertaking right. The following days were filled with: writing critiques, "book reports", writing games, walks in the woods, drinks under the stars, and some much appreciated solitary work time.
   Sitting alone on the edge of the woods in my little chair with my dog curled up under my feet and my pen scratching away in my old notebook was one of the most personal, inspirational times I've ever experienced.

 The work time was peaceful and fulfilling and the playtime was bawdy and laughter filled, but of all the work and fun, the thing which struck me the most was how nice it was to have my brain all to myself.
Those moments are rare in all our lives.






Thursday, February 26, 2015

Harmony

   While preparing for a show, I always escape to the woods near my house with my trusty recorder and headphones and walk along the lake reciting lines and/or laboring over lyrics and harmony to a song.
Today's walk so beautifully paired my work with my surroundings I felt a need to capture and share it.



Tuesday, February 10, 2015

The Lamb in Winter


Winter's cold touches not my heart
When, ahead of their time, the little lambs start

Tottering on legs, quite unstable
As each hour passes, becoming more able

 Standing with boots in two foot of snow
I chuckle and coo at the small lives below

I wish I could stand all day and stare
At the humbling antics of the little lambs there

video





                                           video


Monday, August 18, 2014

Summer's End



Catch a firefly while you may
For the light diminishes every day

Jump in the water with a laugh or a cheer
Or float along quietly with someone who's dear

Count every star in the bright, moonlit sky
While listening to crickets trill their quaint lullaby

Kick off your shoes and walk on the beach
The castle you build will be well within reach

Bask in the glory and warmth of the sun
Or dance in the rain, just for the fun

Catch a firefly while you may
For the light diminishes every day

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Fledglings

  My yard is alive with fledglings this morning. Baby Cardinals, Catbirds, Pine Siskins, and Tufted Titmouse are all having their say in the trees and around my bird feeders. Parents are busy flying back and forth in encouragement, and to drop off the occasional supplemental snack.
  I look forward to this noisy, happy day throughout the season and will spend the day sneaking outside with my binoculars and a smile to keep track of the newly-mobile families.
  There will also be a bit of melancholy in my watching, knowing that tomorrow or the next day my yard will quiet down again as the young leave the safety of their parent's watchful eyes and go off to fend for themselves.
 Last year, a brood of Chickadees, which had made a home in the birdhouse by our front door, fledged on the day my son was graduating high school. I sat on my front steps amid the congratulatory banners and watched as the three fledglings poked their heads out one by one and tested their new wings.
  One flew instantly to a nearby tree. Another fell on it's first try, it's mother frantically flying from ground to tree to show it the way. After many attempts and much encouragement,  the little one made it to the low branches of our azalea bush, where it hid for quite some time before flying high up into the high branches of the pine tree.
  My third little friend took one look outside and promptly went back in. No amount of parental encouragement would entice it to join it's siblings. The parents harangued it for a long time then left to see to the needs of their other young. When all was quiet, the little one popped it's head out to take another look. Having fully inspected its immediate surroundings, it hopped tentatively from one branch to the next of the flowering Clematis that shielded the nest. It then hopped to the ground to make sure all was safe. We exchanged a few words as it cautiously made it's way towards my new seat in the grass. Then, in a moment of uncharacteristic daring, the tiny being hopped onto my extended hand. We chatted awhile longer, then, with one great effort, it flew away from me.
  I sat in the grass for quite some time straining to see or hear my little friend before my husband gently called me in to get ready for the graduation ceremony.