Now that was one fast summer!

Salt Marsh.....I do not know where the summer has gone, slipped by fast...and here we are in Sweet Grass picking time....a beautiful day...but the grass was scarse, so we did not pick but one small bunch. My friend Sierra took some beautiful pictures!

Grandmother Spider was busy gathering too, and the beaver were their usual busy selves! This is why I live in Maine!

Somewhere there is an unpronouncable icelandic volcano who

decided to erupt, not checking with me first as to

how it might interfer with my travel plans to Ireland.

Shows one who is in charge.

I forgot to bring in the laundry last night.....and the snowdrops live up to their name...but that is spring in Maine.....I am reminded to slow down and not rush, spring will happen all in good time.

Happy Eostar.... today at 1:32. I went early this morning and walked the labyrinth for the first time since the snow melt...worked on the tiny altar at the center...the path survived , with only one place where it is indistinct. The altar in the studio is decked out in pussy willows, witch hazel and alder katkins...

Saturday is Ostara...the spring equinox. Today it is well above 5o degrees. The warmest for this date on record. The crocus are up in the front, the snowdrops on the wall garden and the witch hazel is blooming on the back patio. I planted one bed of chard, spinich and kale. This is the earlist I have direct seeded. It felt so good to kneel in the dirt! The last sign of spring is JHW doing income tax!

Rhubarb, Rugs and Orchids

The sixth day of March. The gusty rhubarb pushes it bulbus nubs up through the still frozen soil, taking advantage of any day over 40 degrees. The whole hillside echos its' dark purple hue, alder buds, grapevines, maples and the very tips of the birch. Perhaps early spring in Maine is the color of rhubarb. The new swedish rugs in the kitchen even have a strip of it. Orchids bloom in the kitchen and they remind me of my Maui grandaughter.

We ran out of wood, but Mr. Haslam had a beautiful dry load for us. We went for a walk yesterday and I did not have to wear a hat. Eben King diary (1873) refers to these February thaw days as "soft" days. A maple on our walk seems to have sprouted wings. The kitchen dooryard was filled with the tiny almost inaudible voices of a hundred gold finches. They are looking less drab every day, but we are not fooled by these days, snow is predicted tomorrow.