At my Brother's House

Brother's shed

As August blazed to an end, the family gathered at brother's house for the second anniversary of the birth of our little man, Charlie. It was a sultry summer afternoon on the side porch of the cavernous yet comfy garage filled with artifacts from various and sundry times and collections. Burgers and beans and birthday cake. An audience of a dozen watching the maestro in action, the toddler of two, the center of our universe for this day. We wondered over how our only one missing, Sarah, was faring in her new cozy nest in the borough of Brooklyn, the eye of Irene hovering over, having already wreaked havoc on so many.

The calendar page turns and the days of September bring gentle relief to the long hot summer we've endured. Tropical storms, turbulent up the seaboard, lives and homes upturned, Irene roared all the way to the uplands of Northern New England, relentless to reside over the oceanic waters and ripping apart riverside towns that had no idea what was coming. Even my best loved ones in Vermont had bridges torn apart and repairs to attend to in the aftermath.

A welcomed holiday weekend and gathering with good friends for a pleasant day on the waters of Jocassee. Picnic lunch, balmy breezes, chit-chat and cool dips in the lake, it was so much fun to get away for a day. Dinner and a movie with family, New Orleans style, Jambalaya. Painting projects and chores to complete some of my to-do lists, but never all.



Little GTO

Photos by Thomas Hammond

feasting

'As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.'

Ernest Hemingway 'A Movable Feast'

I am beginning to be happy and to make plans

A feast of nature and the sea is one of the most cleansing and enlivening of epicurean delight, as it usually is a true hands-on experience, removing the shells, or even gathering from the sea. I vividly remember going clam digging as a small child in the Albemarle Sound on the Outer Banks. Wading into the water and scooping up sand laden with clamshells. It was a sport like none other I had experienced at that early age. When we brought them back to the house and my cousin prepared them, they were far too strange and exotic for my limited palate of those days. I was more intoxicated having had the salt water lapping over my knees and elbows and pluff sand underneath my fingernails, the sun blazing on my towhead and bronzing my face and limbs.

These days, I’m happy to say my tastes have changed and I could devour all the shellfish you could pile onto a platter. In answer to that question, what would you have for you last meal? I’d say a plate of oysters on the half shell, with some lemon, hot sauce and horseradish. That is a feast of the gods.

J D water boogie

Summer afternoon. Summer afternoon.
The two most beautiful words in the English language.
- Henry James

ladies of the lake, part deux

cool, calm evening. waterfront
waves lap over rocks
motorboats hum and whir and stir up more waves lapping over rocks
standing surfers skim across the watery surface
tall and tan
with arms that ripple in muscular sculpture
adonis creatures parade before us
relaxing, unwinding
expelling all thoughts that entangle

pan-seared tuna steaks, ravioli stuffed with arugula and parmesan
sauteed in fresh sage, parsley, basil, sea salt and olive oil
black olives and grape tomatoes on the side


why is this lady smiling?

early morning red stripe sunglow over the horizon of the lake
cool breeze morning air
coffee from the italian pot
red razberries, pancakes, maple syrup
Yum!


meandering through the day
take a dip, sunshine slips behind the clouds, paddle upstream
cool breeze, hanging on the shoreline
boat watching, talking, writing, creating, collaborating, contemplating

day three..sunshine, pack up..pack out
swim, float
roll on down the road
up the mountain, past the head of caesar
brevard, hendersonville
west first pizza
Yum!

stormy weather, whipping wind
lights out
Bat Cave, scarecrow ladies stand still along the balustrade
arrive
Geneva Hotel
lights out
power off
tiki bar juking
river flows
bikers paradise

rites of spring...

confirmations, graduations, transitions...

I am returning from an intermission of numerous changes. The measure of time that it has spanned is uncountable at this point,to determine where it all began. So much has changed.

Wrapping up an epoch of studying, searching, trial and error and bouncing back from grossly humbling circumstance. New connections, beginnings and inspirations have given new light to a dark season.

I am packing my gear for the annual 'Ladies of the Lake' camping excursion. I am bound for waterfront relaxation and the company of a dear friend. Plein air art, campfire chat, floating and sunning. Vistas of misty blue mountains, the full moon will be shining down and we will be ensconced in twilight. Summer will move in around us, as if we haven't already had enough heat frustration. We will have the icy cold waters to chill and exhilarate us. I am ready to unload the weight of confusion and break out into a fete of exuberance.

While there are still mountains to conquer and holes to dig out of, I am, piece by piece pitching away the nagging elements that have weighed me down. Small steps back to a normal existence are hard to take patiently. I want to go running to faraway places and exploring paths that I never knew existed.

It is with much contemplation and scrutiny that I have envisioned my path. It is in revelation that my visions are taking shape day by day. However, still my impatience quells my contentment.

I continue to search each day for enlightenment and comfort. I am fortunate to be spending my days with an inspiring group of people. I have so much more to learn and I am lapping it up like creme brulee.

March Madness

Hoop de doo

no mo sno

open windows

blustery days

greening up...seedlings pOp

edibles inch up

fresh herbs are back to savor the pot

wisteria wists

wistful days

lakeside walks, dockside reading

bask
in the resurgence

fresh start

Anew

Like a lion

March roars in.

Pardon my absence of mind, thought, liturgy, rambling...
My favorite quote these days is that I've got so many irons in the fire, I've got blisters on my fingers.

That's a good thing, I guess. Bakeshop trainee, medical office studies, a sassy haircut, appointments stacked up and backed up.

I find myself entranced by color, combing through swatches, testing surfaces, making progress on some furniture painting projects. Always looking for inspiration.



Rummaging for collectables and still dusting off and polishing attic finds.

Candlelight reflections warm the twilight evening.


The antique candlelit mirror was Claude's shaving mirror which hung on the back porch in the days when he lived here.

Jonquil yellow breaks the neutral background in the back yard of bare tree trunks and fallen leaves. Soon a haze of leaflet buds in reds and greens will mist the treetops and hedgerows and in one day they will all POP out. Spring will be sprung. We are lucky to have had a few choice and pleasant midwinter days on the porch.

Happily, growing season is just around the corner.