Thursday, February 20, 2014

Two Olivers

Oliver horse-drawn mower circa 1909
Good for mowing
Oliver cat circa 2009
Good for meowing

Tuesday, February 18, 2014


The earth is soaked from yesterday's rainfall , leaving early morning misty landscapes.
Long overdue, Winter days are now warming, later in the week, a predicted balmy 70 degrees.
The Iris are pushing their shoots out of the soil, I keep reminding them it's Winter and to stay safely snuggled beneath their blanket of earth, but they insist on reaching out to feel the warmth of the sun.
The First Sergeant has taken his bird-feeding duties most seriously, and has developed quite a following.
His goal is to have them feed out of his hand, but with cat's around, I'm not sure if that's such a wise thing.

The wild turkeys appear morning and evening, a flock of forty or more. 

They feed on the Sunflower seeds and anything else they choose.


Saturday, February 15, 2014

Winter Contentment

"Home, the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. "
~ Robert Montgomery


Friday, February 14, 2014

Happy Valentine's Day

" The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.'"

~ eden ahbez, "Nature Boy" (1948).

Monday, February 10, 2014

Robin Redbreast

The Robins have returned.
Surely a sign of spring.
The fireside for the cricket,
The wheat-stack for the mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house.
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow,-
Alas! in winter dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.

~William Allingham.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Through Bare Trees



Through bare trees

I can see all the rickety lean-tos
and sheds, and the outhouse
with the half-moon on the door,
once modestly covered in
summer's greenery.

Through bare trees
I can watch the hawk
perched on a distant branch,
black silhouetted wings
shaking feathers and snow,
and so can its prey.

Through bare trees
I can be winter's innocence,
unashamed needfulness,
the thin and reaching limbs of a beggar,
longing to touch
but the hem of the sun."-

~ Lisa Lindsey, Bare Trees


Monday, February 3, 2014

Home Thoughts

The Manor Farm
The rock-like mud unfroze a little, and rills
Ran and sparkled down each side of the road
Under the catkins wagging in the hedge.
But earth would have her sleep out, spite of the sun;
Nor did I value that thin gliding beam
More than a pretty February thing
Till I came down to the old manor farm,
And church and yew-tree opposite, in age
Its equals and in size. The church and yew
And farmhouse slept in a Sunday silentness.
The air raised not a straw. The steep farm roof,
With tiles duskily glowing, entertained
The mid-day sun; and up and down the roof
White pigeons nestled. There was no sound but one.
Three cart horses were looking over a gate
Drowsily through their forelocks, swishing their tails
Against a fly, a solitary fly.

The winter's cheek flushed as if he had drained
Spring, summer, and autumn at a draught
And smiled quietly. But 'twas not winter--
Rather a season of bliss unchangeable,
Awakened from farm and church where it had lain
Safe under tile and latch for ages since
This England, Old already, was called Merry.

~ Edward Thomas 1878-1917