After the fireworks are over

There is something about the week after the 4th of July.

There is a distinct difference in the air. I can't explain it--I just know it. One way I know it is by the color of the sky and the flowers that bloom and thrive in July as opposed to June....the hardly noticible changes . As I peer at the wild meadow outside my window at Easton Village, I can see the mauve succulent tips of the sedum which will probably be there for a long while thank goodness, and will turn golden ochre in the Fall and then dry to a deep maroon. Also of course , the black-eyed susans are everywhere --not a perfect bouquet, but real live plants ---like life---not perfect, but lifting their heads toward the sun everyday, and seeming to suggest "better squeeze everything out of this month----one more month and Fall will be here----, winter is coming-----or is that just a trick of mind that we contiunually use to set landmarks and time constraints on how we view summer. .......But I digress,,,,,,

Our pond meadow is very special with certain species of butterflies, moths and birds that I am determined to learn more about. So I have promised myself a walk around the pond everyday. As I finish my walk today, I see darting dragonflies, whizzing between the whirling grasses that I have learned to love in this environment. Some feathery and lightweight, others dense and spiky...I make a mental note remember to ask Meg if she wants to decorate the Xmas tree this year with grasses and natural materials like we did last year. In this world of waving creamy grass, pond flowers and cadmium orange wildflowers with smooth red berries ( that stopped me in my tracks!) I really don't want to think of Xmas yet, but I might keep my eye on the perfect topper for the tip of our tree. At home, I will dry hydrangas to give us a pale alizaerin color mixed with bronze for our "filler." So I will walk my little pond in silence each day that I work and mark the subtle changes. I am at peace in this open space and wildflowers nestled in the sloping bank of the pond. What better way to mark the passing of the days and the inevitable passage of the months of the year .

Cheerio,
ritze

June nights in The Village

Goodness!

It has been a while since I have written. I admit I, like others, have been grousing about the amount of rainy weather this month though t doesn't seem to bother my feathered friends in the pond; they simply and serenely seem to accept the weather without complaint. The sun goes in and out in these damp days. Quite honestly, from the look of the slope of the pond, the meadow flowers and grasses are thriving in these conditions. I quickly realized that the early Spring pictures I had taken and previously posted had now completely changed color and form in our beautiful landscape . Overnight it seems! So I decided to take new June pictures with my camera which portrayed lush olive and viridian grasses as well as mauves and ocher hues along with lovely burnt sienna pods. I must have them printed out soon before another rapid change takes place. Oh how important it is to really see. How many times do we look but never see the beauty right in front us as we sally forth in our day. But, I digress. It is not the "day" that consumes my thinking right now. It is the night.

When was the last time you stopped by a pond on a late dark summer evening. I promise you--there is a good chance that your childhood will leap forward into your consciousness and you will be transported, if only for a few moments, to a much simpler time in your life. The sounds of a night pond.

The other night I had to stop by the Welcome Center for something I had left at work amd was stopped dead in my tracks by the night sounds in the pond. I immediately remembered many years ago taking a walk around a pond in Maine enticingly named Witches Hole---it was completely and totally dark---we used flashlights to pick our way out and the only sound that pierced the night was the insistent splashing of beavers in the water. Very scary. Very memorable.

Well, I can't promise you splashing beavers, but I can say that if you are one of those who in your youth remember nights near a pond, croaking frogs, hot sticky summer days and dancing fireflies lighting the way-----stop by the Easton Village pond on a summer night and above all, just simply listen.

Cheerio,

Ritze

V is for Village Community

Mr. Burrus stopped by yesterday to introduce his new little dog, an Australian terrier who goes by the name of Junior. This little creature promptly captivated my heart , but I could see that he had eyes only for Mr. Burrus. Nevertheless we sat on the floor of The Welcome Center ( yes, that's right!) and I tried to win the little guy over. I must remember to bring doggie treats to the office. We had a fine time discussing training and all manner of things one talks about with and about puppies. After after they left, I began to think about how pleasant it was that he stopped by The Welcome Center, ( actually looking for Meghann--also an animal lover). I began to think of the reasons why people choose a particular place to live ---certainly not an insignificant question. In this case , Mr. Burrus, our first resident, with his vivacious and charming wife Linda ( who loves to take pictures of our beautiful landscape) chose Easton Village to live. I could guess that they wanted a small town environment , and a place where they can walk the trails and landscape with their pets in solitude and yet, still hail a neighbor, perhaps stop for a friendly chat or drop in The Welcome Center to introduce the newest addition to their family be it animal or child. I am reminded too of that now famous quote, "it takes a village" and I agree.... It takes a village not only to raise a child ( the original intent of the quote) but also to work together for the happy intermingling of people, pets, nature, socialization and equally important--- to preserve the serenity that so many people yearn for today. So let's hear it for "the village" and all that it represents.

cheerio, ritze

The Pie Factory

What a difference a week makes.
The weather is beautiful and calm today. I was talking to my friend Sandra and we were discussing different outlooks on life; Sandra said of someone in her inimitable ES ( eastern shore!) manner, "she wouldn't be happy in a pie factory." I loved her expression because it made me smile, and it made me think about what it takes to make us happy. Obviously, it is different for all of us. For me, the older I get, the simpler that answer is. Like this morning when I pulled into EV. The first thing I did was look for the babies and there they were nestled contentedly in the marsh grass. Whew! There were still 4 instead of the 3 that I thought I saw the other day. I think that there is something important about a constancy of vision in art and in nature. In the pond , I am seeing a living process . I am seeing a struggle to beat all odds --to survive no matter what life brings ...the occasional snapping turtle to the goslings, for example. For all of nature is a struggle against the elements and natural enemies. I am looking at the real deal here..not just a moment in time but a period of life coping, teaching and surviving. It is easy to see why some naturalists spend their lives just studying one group of animals.....why Monet painted Giverny so very many times. They were looking for depth in knowledge.......and it suddenly occured to me.....right at this particular moment in time, to tell you the truth, I feel very happy. But that's just me. What makes you happy?

smiling faces

Pansies and Friends

It is cold and windy today. The pond is filled with ripples and ruffles. I hope the goslings are tucked somewhere warm and cozy in the grasses. What a change in weather pattern from Memorial Day weekend.
As I walked up to the porch in my yellow hooded parka, I looked at the pansies in the shiny cobalt blue pot just blowin' in the wind---some are the buttery color of my parka and some the color of the pond in front---oh and an occasional magenta one for interest. I wonder how much longer they will survive when the sure to follow hot weather hits in the traditional Eastern Shore manner.
I love pansies. They have such energy and color just when we need it.-----after the daffodils and tulips have faded we can always count on the pansies to bring that early seasonal brightness and spritely gesture to our personal landscape. They remind me of my friends, some of whom add such a sparkling lift and joy to my life..So I hate to see the pansies wilt in the hot noonday sun. I'm not sure my friends would like to be called "pansies", but trust me---it's a compliment!!

cheerio,
ritze