Ice world, Catskills

 

They seem alive, these icy wonders,
constantly melting and refreezing, morphing

covering rock, moss and fern

hanging in the air.

a country weekend

After the four hour drive, up Weaver Hollow Road, then a steep plunge down to our house.

frog pond at dusk

 I walk the property, making sure all is well.

buttercups, rocks, lichen and brook

the blue hills of the western Catskills

forget-me-nots

 Water and wildflowers, wildflowers and water.

the waterfall

 Wandering, gazing, pondering.

frog pond by day

orange hawkweed a/k/a devil's paintbrush

Ferns, lichen, moss. Stones, bluets, blackberries. Every day in the same places I would seen new things, things anew. There were friends and family, lovingly prepared meals, country roads, farmers markets, my favorite used books store, a gallery opening for a dear friend. I exhale, take a deep breath, breathe.

watershed

 There are forests, rolling hills, small craggy mountains, barns and farmhouses galore,

but for me the centerpiece of our place in the country is the water. 

The waterfall and stream that are part of the watershed. 

From the top of those hills and mountains snowmelt runs into streams and,

 supplemented by rainfall travels on downhill, 

making its way into the Pepacton Reservoir. 

From there it funnels via aqueduct to New York City,

 in a surprisingly low-tech way. Gravity.

The Catskill/Delaware County Watershed provides 90% of New York City's water.

 This means there are lots of restriction on land use, 

and that the waters and surrounding lands will remain pristine and undeveloped. 

This very morning the water that streamed past as I hunted for wildflowers last weekend

could be pouring, unfiltered from the faucets of my sons who live in New York City.

in Provincetown

Snapshots from my trip to Provincetown. A magical place--I've fallen under the spell...

Will write more about it soon.

Thanks to Steve from An Urban Cottage for tips on the many art galleries.

blues

cobalt cerulean turquoise 

aqua 

azure 

cornflower sapphire navy 

indigo periwinkle teal

I've gotten used to the gray greens of the New England Atlantic. The oceans of my life have always been toned down---the gray blues of the Pacific near San Francisco, the mid-blues of the Jersey shore and Fire Island. It was a shock to see the colors of the same ocean a thousand miles south, in Florida. It made me want to get out my paints and a giant canvas and explore every shade of blue for the rest of my life. It made me wish that I could paint like this artist:

on Walden Pond

Walden Pond was larger than I expected--at 62 acres it looks like a lake. I walked the path that loops around it.

 A beach for families.

 A few kayakers.

Many semi-secluded areas where stone steps lead directly into the pond. Shirts and hats hang from branches, scattered books and shoes...a mother swims with her daughters at one, a pair of teenage girls at another, an elderly man, four guys with beer...each enjoying a secret place.

Swimming and floating and drifting...

I will write another time about Thoreau and his cabin, which is what I expected Walden Pond to be all about. What I found felt remote, serene, personal--like a lake in Maine or northern Vermont, though it is just a short distance from Boston.

rocks, water, moss

On a recent visit to the Catskills, I spent a lot of time walking along the brook,

mesmerized by the flow of water over rocks, the paths and patterns,

each rock and group of rocks 

unique, creating countless variations.

  And in the rockless shallows,

moss patterns look like a map, 

some verdant part of the country, as seen from an airplane.

do you know where your water comes from?

Did I ever tell you that much of New York City's water comes from the Catskills? It gets there via gravity--basically just rolls downhill. No massive pumps or filtration. It starts with rain and snowmelt.

The water from our waterfall goes into the creek and continues downhill to the Pepacton Reservoir, and from there 130 miles to the city via aqueducts, tunnels and pipes.

 There are all kinds of restrictions on land use, to keep the water pure. New York State and City have bought a lot of the land that wasn't already part of the wilderness park.

See how clear the water is? Our own water comes from a well.

Villages were flooded in order to build two of the reservoirs. You can imagine how difficult and controversial that was. Here is an excerpt from the documentary "Deep Water" that gives a flavor of the history of that massive endeavor. 

As I write this I realize I have no idea where my Massachusetts water comes from, even though I have lived here almost 7 years! I am leaving soon for a 4-day weekend in the Catskills. The Pakatakan Farmers's Market (which I wrote about here) will be open and I hope to get a waffle there.

I hope you have a great weekend!

Jen

good morning from the forest

I am a night owl. But when I'm in the country in the winter, nestled in the dark woods, I go to bed early and get up early. So I've been puttering around the house, which I've never told you about, but may soon, thinking about decor. We are going to spend Christmas here for the first time. Just that weekend, so I'm going to do a little bit of decorating here--not enough that I get aggravated when I have to take it down, just enough to warm up the house. I look outside at the pine branches laden with snow and think about how that's what we try to emulate with our flocked trees and garlands (and yesterday in the store I was thinking where can I get some greens, then I mentally smacked myself in the head--you live in a forest, Jen.) We got a tree from a neighbor's tree farm last weekend, which is outside in a bucket of water, probably frozen by now. I have a bunch of those little flocked trees and odds and ends that I will play with tonight, and if I like them I'll take pictures and show you and maybe even start telling you about this house. Anyways it's 8:00 and though I've been up since 6:30 reading and drinking coffee and thinking about Christmas decor, I'm still in my flannel pajamas. I have to shovel snow and eat breakfast (which will include a fresh egg--every time I come up George gives me a dozen, which makes the long drive worth it). Today in the Commons right outside my store there will be a cookie contest, caroling, and a reading from The Wind in The Willows, one of my favorite books. Wish you were here.

beach therapy

Before last night's auction I took a walk on the beach in Hull.

 The weather was glorious 

and even at four o'clock plenty of people were out.

I hadn't realized how tense I was, until I took off my shoes and started walking.

My shoulders, neck, and jaw were tight,

but loosened up as I went along---water, sun and sand working their miracles.

Sky too.

This is the only shell I picked up--I like the way it looks with the barnacles on it. I could turn the shell and barnacles into a metaphor, but I will spare you.

I only bought one thing at the auction--the butcher block for my friends. 

It was a great price and they are happy, which makes me happy.

My son found a table on his own, and I didn't feel like buying anything for the store, since it's full, and I'm going to be closing in a few months.

I love the way these buoys look and that they on the beach for everyone to enjoy--a lovely convergence of utility and nature, that for me becomes art.