Beautiful everyday thing

Laundry basket made by Dot Hutchins, Vassalboro, Maine.

Six inches of water in the cellar,
snow again this morning.

First robins.
Sustainable latte on the cook stove.

Our bees are awake,
and we're still eating last year's honey.

yesterday, daffodils in Boston

interior with lily

for the children

liking the domestic

mine is a reluctant marriage

to these northern woods:

I resist its embrace,

but then, the place wooes me.

Home, after a week away, to find the snow half gone,

my bees furiously alive in blossoming maples,

daffodils budding by the stone doorstep,

and we dig overwintered carrots for supper.

mud art

How to make a silk purse out of this event called spring?

Friends call to exult in blooming daffodils; we measure spring's arrival in our own way.

renewed receptivity

for opportunity, for prosperity and peace.

a madonna of sorts

She has planted onion and broccoli seeds in her greenhouse, looked after the castrated bulls.

I tell myself there are advantages to deep snow in March

It's beautiful.

The skiing is good.

I can prune the old lilacs by the porch without using a ladder

(and I think I'm in the garden again.)

fuel shortages

There's a new sound in the landscape--

(not the town plow truck, not snowmobiles)

--chainsaws.

Winter isn't over, and we're running out of wood.

Who's watching? lunch as a data transmission event

Do "they" know what I had for lunch, what books I'm reading, and whether I nap on the sofa regularly? And what will "they" do with these details of my daily life?

Deep in the woods: a woman's hearth rose from these stones

Little ice age

On the road: slow food

A country of snow

Beehives and snowshoe

Landscape at 60 mph (driving to Portland)

What we see is a blurring of the particular.

Five ingredients for a birthday cake

An early thaw has another color

Eggshell with cerulean blue interior

my neighbors

Abby Ann

Eva

Betty

Connie

Mertie

There is no sense of emergency this morning