spring gallops, horseless

 they're still making 

tiny collections

there were two of these, 

two days in a row,

two different shoes.

the first one was QUITE a surprise

at 7 a.m.

my foot exited the shoe 

lightning quick, 

glad mousy had gone away.

 i found another rock book

 which is a lot like 

one of the old, big ones

 we're having rain and rain and rain

some of which i drove through

yesterday and today

while i went to syracuse

 and back

twice

in order to get a new computer

 because the old is slowing  

and the spinning wheel of death

made too frequent appearances.

 i completed my sketch book

fixed the mistakes

and will begin to use it.

thanks to tim ely

my mind is playing games

around pictures and ideas and books and

threads.

 while the spring wrestles 

through

 high water and flooding

 create wonderful plays

layers of color

texture

meaning

red osier dogwood

 and then the fence lines

make their arbitrary

deliniations

between space and time

light and darkness.

this changing

leaving a bit more green

after every shower.

reflection(s)

 the crescent moon appeared

 in puddles

 seen through the maze of brush

  the brush and the big trees 

were still 

changing clothes

 and i found someone's mapping

 and remembered that wooly bears track their own stories

with a plan on their backs

telling of the sort of winter we have in store

 this flower is growing in my sugar maple garden,

ok, a tree that the county workers felled

and brought the logs to me

to warm me in a cold winter,

that is, if the wooly bears

share their secrets.

and don't play games.

hey, maybe that grid

is the wooly bear score card!

scattered into focus

 it's almost the end of the school year (a week and a half to go)

and i'm experimenting

 this little bit of kozo traveled my table

and landed on this announcement from frank

 and became briefly a moon

 i have saved many

like this laying mama snapper

and many, many painteds

but not all

by any means.

this morning's snapper

did NOT appreciate my shovel 

helping her across the busy highway.

but she made it.

 at the new place the little drainage

nameless

 with reflections

and despite all odds

 up through the gravel roadbed

 this fellow emerged

 happily

and happy even when

i photograph the thing upsidedown.

~~~

i told you i'm scattered

next weekend i will be on my way to colorado 

mayday

it feels like spring today. 

the promise kept.

two good trees 

spruce and butternut 

this went down in april 

 remains of the milkhouse

mosquito nesting ground

photographer's sarcophagus 

 no insect activity

yet 

but a woman with 

green striped socks

waits 

 she matches these 

fiddleheads

protected by down

deliberate?

oh, no

 my 

reward for this

winter of hard times 

 

the fiber of winter

 disappearing

under the green frayed cloth

of may

it's mayday

today i put out 

hummingbird feeders

a huge commitment 

as far as i can tell

 finished the pure hosta

added a little abaca

ready for milkweed pulp 

tiny sheets

a tiny home

and blackflies are swarming

not biting much

yet.

strange spring

busy at school. this time of the year we special education teachers have more iep's to prepare and cse's to attend than during the rest of the year. an iep is a student's individual educational plan and a cse is a meeting of the committee on special education. the iep is a legal document and our team writes very good ones. that takes time, testing, and three of us meeting on each student. because this program is innovative and individualized, we need to do our very best for each kid. that's besides the day to day programming.

so i've been getting home late. monday we were once again at bittersweet farm. i planted trees with one student all morning. in a downpour. then in a tropical heat wave that dried us out like the eensy weensy spider. i then washed my hands, ate my lunch, and jumped in the subaru and off i went, mud and all, to a cse meeting. it was great to represent our program in a real way. 
the fiddleheads have grown and are over 18 inches tall. the leaves are thick and odd.

this is a trillium, not the wake robin trillium, but a white one in my garden. we'll not discuss how it arrived... i have a tendency to find wildflowers and bring them home, fortunately i have 60 acres of woods where many wildflowers grow. 

i looked in the window, through the wet screen, and i spotted hannah, knitting away. in a couple of days she'll be on her way to bar harbor to earn some money working this summer. i'll miss her... way too much.