Sunday, August 29, 2010

it's a bird, sorta

I like rocks, any size any type. Fossils are especially intriguing, they hold bits of the distant past, and at least to me they can even be be poetic and beautiful.
It is the belief of some people that memory can be stored in the silica of rocks similar to the way it is stored in a silicon chip. I will not agree or disagree with that, I just don't understand or know enough to have an opinion.
While I was weeding along the graveled pad outside of my back door I found this and it screamed at me. In the nicest possible way of course, I recognized it as being a slice of a shell, a very ancient shell, embedded in sandstone, but it so looks like a bird in flight.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

To make a long story even longer

I have always like the sound of the Autoharp, I wanted to learn to play it, so I begged and begged and finally my parents bought me one. It came with the Mother Maybell Carter Autoharp course.
I still have that autoharp and I still can't play it.

But I became a great fan of the Carter Family. When June Carter Cash's autobiography "Among my Klediments" came out in 1979, I wasn't nearly as interested in the book as I was in the word 'klediments". I am told that the word comes from a Scottish term "clutterment", or cluttertrap and literally means clutter.

June Carter Cash in her book described a klediment(clad-ih-ment) this way "A klediment can be a thing you love. . . . A klediment can be a thing you just won't throw away. . . . A klediment can be a person dear to you." this presumed mispronunciation of the word was found mainly in eastern Tennessee and southwestern Virginia. I would say it is now also in the hearts and minds of many people who realize the importance of preserving the past, so that the history of everyday people is preserved also.

Now, on to my photo. The frame is new, and the picture the one that came in it. But tucked into the nest is a plaster "nesting egg", for chickens prefer to lay their eggs next to another egg, and if you harvest the eggs each day, the chicken will start a new nest everyday. It belonged to my grandmother, now proudly mine, chicken poop stains and all.

The tiny chamberpot with kittens in it came from a rummage sale, the watch was one I got running after someone else tossed it out. the train belonged to my Dad. When he was working on his house, he found it, badly rusted and wheels missing, under the floor of the summer kitchen. He cleaned it up and gave me what remained of it as a gift, a treasure. I bought the clam shell sculpture at King Richard,s Faire.

Klediments all. All sweet reminders.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

August Full Moon

So last night I wandered out into the yard and took these picture of the almost full August moon, a gently warm night, fragrant with the smell of earth and rain on foliage. Luna was playing tag with the clouds, occasionally surrounded by a halo of rainbow haze, so common this time of year and giving it another name, the Red Moon. I don't have a personal name for this moon, may-be the Shy Moon.

The Sturgeon moon will be full at 11:05Am EST. The Green Corn Moon or Grain Moon, as it is also know, will not be visible here, not only because it is daylight, but because it is also overcast. This full moon is the farthest from the earth , March of 2011 it will be at its closest, a roughly 7 month cycle of near and far.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Eating fire

I remember seeing fire eaters on TV and once when my Dad took me to the Circus. but it is something I never wanted to do, or sword swallowing either for that matter.

Hot peppers, gently fried and sandwiched between slices of lightly buttered fresh bread, is my kind of "fire eating".

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Caesar Salad is 88

I really really love Caesar Salad. Which was first served 88 years ago in a restaurant in Tijuana. Julia Child has talked about going to this restaurant with her parents just to enjoy this dish.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Crown jewels of the wire

I have collected a lot of different things over my lifetime, but ultimately those collections have all been sold off or giving away to make room for the next one. All except for the insulators, "Crown jewels of the Wire", and they shine in the sun like a jewel, and still after 35 years are my favorite.

There are so many shapes and colors, they don't break easily, they are fairly cheap, and don't mind being left out in the elements. Simple workaday objects that would last a very long time even if they were neglected, they were designed that way. But these simple objects have great character, not only from their coating of smokey tar, deposited there by the steam locomotive, or from their deeps blues and greens, like the oceans and forest connected by the railroad tracks they were silent witness to for many decades. At one time telegraph wire was strung from tree to tree affixed to insulators mounted on said trees, but this for obvious reasons gave way to the forests of artificial trees, best known as telegraph and telephone poles.

Occasionally, I will pick up an insulator, and looking past its almost comical shape, sense the history that it has seen, the electricity it has helped guide to its destination, the messages it has helped carry. The romance of the rails and telegrams, and wish they could tell me their stories.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

berry picken thoughts

When a man chops his own wood he is warmed by it twice."

It's sorta the same with picking berries, there is the warmth of the summer sun ripened berry, fresh from the cane, and then the taste of preserved summer in the depths of winter.
But there is also the joy of gathering these fragrant gifts, the quiet, and solitude, and the satisfaction of seeing the pail filling. A chance to be still and watch the world rush past, or to think. Sometimes I even wonder about the people who picked here in "the good old days".

Today, while picking the last of the blueberries, I paused before covering them back up with the ancient and tattered curtain sheers, that have been used for this purpose since before we owned this property such being the quality of nylon. There were very few berrys left to ripen, and the blackberries were ripening early this year, so may-be the birds would like the remaining berrys.

As I hung the curtains on the clothesline. "This is for the birds" I said to no one there.

I wonder if that is where the saying came from.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Waning Days

The sun is getting lower in the sky and the light is getting more golden, even thought the weather feels like mid-summer, there are hints of autumn everywhere,
The delicate pinky purple bloom is on the thistle, and the St Michaelmas Daises are in bloom. Sneezeweed, which some people think is Black-eyed Susans, is a drift of blooms near the now empty house where the Old Farmer lived, this all seems to have come too early, but then I am one who thinks summer always comes to an end tooooooooooo soon.

I repeat to myself, "I will not complain about the heat", because I know what is coming, and to me it is worse. but soon the glory of autumn will be here, the last fiery color, Mother natures farewell tour.

For now my plan is to enjoy the waning days.

Silent sunday~~~the way it was