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rising

I haven't been taking many photos lately.  Things have seemed too cold.  Too gray.  Too dirty.  And honestly, my head had been too stuffed up for me to feel inspired to do much more than knit and watch Netflix.  Thank goodness for the miles of stockinette stitching in the tangled yoke and movies like these.

But the winds are shifting.  As the little one says, it's getting warmer and warmer every day.  And just as the bulbs and perennials are starting to push themselves out of the softening soil, I feel myself stretching toward the sun.

And the sun has made its way into our kitchen.  In the colder months there isn't any direct sun in the room, but in the early evenings from now until September, the sun peeks through the window in the back door.  Today it helped ready the dough for another simple and yummy recipe from this book.  It's the European peasant -- flecked with touches of whole wheat and rye. 

My new favorite way to eat all of this homemade bread is slathered with chevre and ginger spread.  Now that I think about it, I wonder if this, in and of itself, could be responsible for pulling me out of the recent funk?

watching

She watches over me while I work.  Looking into the window of my office, keeping me focused as best she can.  The view from the other window - the one I sit beside - is that of the big lake.  It is always pulling me out, inviting me to play.

quiet and still

I haven't been feeling too wordy lately.  Nor too crafty.  To get back into the groove, I'll plan to share more images than words this week. 

For now, a mosaic for Six One Way.

Willa the bear sees more stroller action than the little one; meatballs are a new favorite; and of course, the refrigerator is a place of great wonder.

green week three :: confession

I've been kidding myself with this green week.  Cheating a bit, I'll admit.  I know that Emily probably doesn't have green week rules, but I have a hunch that with these photo-a-day challenges, you're supposed to take the pictures during the actual challenge.  The photos I've shared so far are from last week's trip to South Carolina.  A trip to celebrate the 22nd birthday of my daughter's paternal great-grandmother (leap year does funny things, doesn't it?).   

Well, the mini-vacation is over, and we're back to the North Shore of Lake Superior.  Mother nature will not don her frock of spring greenery in these parts for weeks.  Many long weeks.  Today she gave us snow.  Delicate fluffy snow that lingered as it fell, and piled about in a down-like manner.  Lots of white.  Not much green to be found, aside from the scarf around my neck and the needing-to-be-felted-again mittens.

I promise I'll share photos tomorrow and Friday that were taken on these days.  It will be good to seek the green here.  But, since I'm not ready to fully let go of those sun-filled days in Charleston, you'll find a bit more of them here.

green week one :: salt marsh

For most of my childhood I lived within a stone's throw of the Great Sippewissett Marsh.  I didn't realize how great it actually is, in terms of salt marshes, until I began reading Tim Traver's Sippewissett:  Or Life on a Salt Marsh.  Although I didn't have knowledge of the importance of the the place in the realm of marine biology, there is no question about its significance to my own natural history. 

My pre-teen years were imprinted by the smells of that salt marsh, the slurping sound of bare feet mucking through its mud, the thrill of jumping into the 'black hole' carved out by the convergence of the two of the marsh's fingers, the taste of its brackish water sipped through straws fashioned from horsetails growing on the side of its feeder creeks.

Last week found me on the edge of another salt marsh.  A place that I've visited a handful of times over the past decade, but not one that I've ever really explored.  It is very different than Sippewissett in terms of climate and critters, but yet it is so familiar. 

Sitting on the dock watching the green water yesterday I could have been nine years old.  Listening to the quiet punctuated here and there by a jumping fish, the flapping wings of a nearby heron, was like hearing an echo.  With the evidence of the tides and the renewal they bring every six hours all around, it's not a wonder that a visit to a salt marsh brings me back, if even for a moment.

jelly blues

Nine hours + four airports + one busy toddler = a mama who feels like she's without a skeleton.  Multiply that by the assault of exiting a plane onto the tarmac in the middle of an ice storm, and you'll get a sense of how acutely I'm feeling the Sunday blues right about now.  Luckily these blues will be replaced with greens tomorrow, thanks to Emily and her brilliant idea for a week of green.  The perfect elixir, don't you think?

smattering

There's not much focus to be had around here these days.  A stomach flu swept in on early Thursday, and seems to have taken root.  I have yet to actually experience the symptoms firsthand, but have been covered in them repeatedly over the last few days.  Nice.  Four loads of laundry a day nice.  Six pairs of pyjamas and three sets of sheets in one night nice.

I've been able to sneak bits of respite here and there. 

Trimming and packaging of the prints for the gocco swap. 

Practicing knitting with two colors, one in each hand.   

Tonight fresh snow is falling.  Tomorrow is a new day.  I so hope it's one where food stays in the belly of the babe.

brrrrr....

When this the scene on the inside of my bathroom window (yes, there's a moisture issue in this old house...) and wind chill advisories warn of near immediate frostbite on any exposed parts of those who venture outside,  I can't help but wish I had made myself one of these, or knit myself a pair of those.  Luckily I can easily whip up the hot version of this and dream of the days when she will visit my garden (mind you, this is still months away).   What is warming you these mid-winter days?

three by

I've been a big fan of Six One Way since Stefani and Eren started chronicling the weeks with three photos, each one telling a small piece of the story of life as the mama of three young boys.  Their simple yet stunning photos speak for themselves, both separately and together. 

I was thrilled to see that they've invited others to play along in sharing a week in the life of the family in the form of a photo triptych.  I was looking for a photo-making spark and I think this might be just the thing that prompts me to point my camera around my house, despite the lack of good natural light this time of year.

That said, I've found the mosaic maker to be a bit addicting.  I couldn't stop with the one for Six One Way tonight, but instead had to piece together two more crazy quilts of images from the weekend. 

Between liquid and solid on the calm grey lake.  Special thanks to Nana and AJ for the babe-sitting that allowed for the slow and carefree meander along the beach with my sweet.

At the start of the John Beargrease sled dog marathon - the 400 mile race honoring the man who delivered mail along Lake Superior's North Shore by dog sled in the early 1900s.  Once again, I'm amazed by the outdoor happenings in my hometown.  And, I'm so grateful for the recent gift from E -- Jan Brett's new book featuring Aloo-ki, a Inuit musher.  My little one was thrilled to have a chance to ride, chattering about Aloo-ki and the huskies all along the kid's track.

new years realization

This time of year one is able to experience places that are typically inaccessible to the ordinary traveler.  Out on the lake.  Over the rushing water of the river.  In the middle of the marsh.  Above the crashing waves.

I quite like the perspective that comes seeing a place from a different angle, through a different lens.  It gives me confidence that that which doesn't seem possible can actually be realized.   A good realization for the start of a new year.

May you find places and see you things you never thought possible in the new year.  And, may the dreams you haven't yet had come true.