Thursday, September 29, 2011

Monday, September 26, 2011

Sweet peaches and cream corn on the cob. Perhaps this is the last of it for the year.

I like how this red burner became purple through the camera.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

What a beautiful maker's mark. And such a satisfyingly snug fit on the bottom of this tea cup.

I took these photos at my friend Gay's house a few weeks ago when she had us over for supper. She's traveled the world collecting many things, big and small.

Monday, September 19, 2011

The scent of apples fills the Townships these days: Alexander, Anna, Beely Pippin, Carroll, Couer de Boeuf, Cortland, Davey, Gala, Garland, Golden Russet, McIntosh ...

Alice loves to swim in the streams and creeks when we walk. The impetus is a stone's throw. I toss them in the water and she swims after each plop.


Saturday, September 17, 2011


Last night we visited a large, shallow pond near Lake Champlain where mallards and black ducks are being tagged and recorded to track their migratory patterns toward conservation. After they were each given a small, silver tag round the right ankle, we were able to hold these elegant, long-necked creatures in our hands, firmly round their folded wings, then open our hands and set them free.

Friday, September 16, 2011

A sunny morning on the deck together. We agreed: not a stitch of work Saturday.


Wednesday, September 14, 2011


An early walk with Alice yesterday, along la rivière aux Brochets. The sun's getting lower, the colours are changing, the geese are flying South.


Friday, September 9, 2011

Gerald Durrell

Right in the Hart of the Africn Jungel a small wite man lives. Now there is one xtrordenry fackt about him that he is the frind of all animals.

- Gerard Durrell, age ten (1935)

Anyone who has got any pleasure at all from living should try to put something back. Life is like a superlative meal and the world is the maître d'hôtel. What I am doing is the equivalent of leaving a reasonable tip.

- Gerard Durrell

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Abutilon (
) . . .
Acacia (
) . . .
Secret love
Acanthus (
) . . .
Agapanthus (
) . . .
Allium (
) . . .
Almond blossom (
) . . .

I was out of breath by the time I returned to the house. The living room was empty, and I stepped inside to unwrap the dahlias. The flowers were perfect starbursts, layers of white-tipped purple petals unfurling from tight buds of a center. Biting off an elastic band, I detangled the stems. The girls would never understand the meaning of the dahlias (the meaning itself an ambiguous statement of encouragement); even so, I felt an unfamiliar lightness as I paced the long hall, slipping a stem under each closed bedroom door.

-Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The Language of Flowers.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Family Supper II

Steak on the bar b q with baked potatoes, sautéed mushrooms, and roasted vegetables.
Chocolate layer cake for dessert.
My sister is a great cook.


Tuesday, September 6, 2011

wild horses

stunning photographs taken by Dear Julie Flett. Location: British Columbia.