the thing itself

the thing I came for:

the wreck and not the story of the wreck

the thing itself and not the myth

the drowned face always staring

toward the sun

the evidence of damage

worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty

-Adrienne Rich (1929-2012), from Diving into the Wreck

moss on bluestone, Catskills

last weekend, in the Catskills

Sunday morning, after the snow melted and before the rain started, I saw a mink run down the hill (fast) and disappear into the creek. 

Which got me to thinking about critters that live in our woods and water. Black bears, which everyone but me has seen, foxes, wild turkeys, deer, beavers, porcupines...  And the smaller creatures who burrow in nature's nooks and crannies, such as the hole in that tree root.

Small caves and cracks in the slabs of bluestone make a good den.

There is even life in the crevices of the stone wall. Spiders, insects, snakes...

I keep an ample supply of used field guides and natural history books in the store.

  Business was slow again this weekend, but I saw some of my favorite people and had good conversations with a few who are feeling optimistic about the recovery of our little village.

I put together book bundles--vintage paperbacks organized by theme and wrapped in twine.

Arranging books, as well as reading them, is soothing and even mood-elevating.

 More and more of them are making their way into the store, and people seem to like that. 

good morning from the Catskills

Weren't we just talking about spring and flowers? I awoke to snow this morning and begin to think of nature not as a mother, but as a mischievous child. As I drink my coffee and look at the steep wooded hills, bluestone slabs and waterfall view I fantasize about building a painting studio. Look here on Tiny House Swoon at the one made from old windows, and enjoy all three pages of tiny swoon-worthy house pictures.

Jen

wildflowers

 I have a little fantasy of selling flowers in the store--nothing fancy. Stems or bundles similar to what is sold at farmers markets.

Pakatakan Farmers Market in the Catskills

farmers market bouquet

I have been reading with interest about a developing buy local movement for flowers.  Karen Orlando's blog Outside Now, chronicles, among other things, her new business creating small locally grown bouquets for businesses in Brooklyn. See posts here.  And if the New York Times writes about it (here) it must be true. This video about a California woman whose garden includes more that 200 varieties of roses that she sells in a kiosk in Santa Cruz is beautiful and inspirational.

Watch Like A Florist From 100 Years Ago on PBS. See more from Botany of Desire.

I am trying to work my way out of a funk about the store. Running a business in a flood-ravaged, economically depressed area is a challenge. I'm losing money and there's no point in continuing unless I enjoy it. For weeks I've been struggling, fighting the urge to just shut it down. But now I'm thinking about flowers. Growing them. Selling them.  Not in a big way. Fill a few buckets. See what happens.

We have 60 acres of hilly woods in the Catskills. An abundance of ferns and moss. Wildflowers grow near the creek. I keep a couple vases in the store filled to bring the vases and the store to life.

There is a grassy area between our driveway and the creek. My husband planted blueberries near the edge, but otherwise it's just grass. I am wondering if I could turn it into a wildflower meadow. Until I retire I won't be there enough to maintain a "real" garden, though I'm already planning it in my head. (Drifts of daffodils and delphinums...) So I'm going to research planting wildflowers. (ironic? oxymoronic? just plain moronic?) Suggestions for no-maintenence flower gardens welcome.

Jen

flowers in (and out of) the house

Last week was gloriously warm in New England. Birds and buds awoke and I started spring cleanup.

Of course I was thinking ahead to Jane's Flowers in the House and by Friday the only flowers blooming were purple crocuses. So I hastened to the supermarket for backup daffodils and purple tulips.

Also primroses and pansies for the plant stand on my deck that I hope to have dripping with flowers soon.

Last night we had a stern frost, and the crocuses froze, though my neighbor's forsythias look good.

Then I noticed this, which I think is a mountain laurel. (flower people?) Sort of wild and modest. Not something I think about for flowers. edited to add: Thanks to Jane and the Hattatts I now know this is a Pieris Japonica.

It has clusters of small, delicate bell flowers. So very pretty. I'm a little bit in love with them.

Be sure and check out more Flowers in the House. They will make you happy.

Jen

missions

        My father and Brazilian Air Force plane, 1950's

In the 1950's my father worked for the State Department. He travelled the world, had adventures, and brought home interesting things. Many years later, living in San Francisco, he retired for medical reasons. He continued to consult with the Environmental Protection Agency, his employer since 1970, and occasionally manned his friend's high-end antique store, while the friend, a CIA operative, went on missions. (True story.) He and my stepmother also had an antique business, and he was a master of high-low--mixing expensive items with those found at flea markets and garage sales. I have fond memories of accompanying him to the Alameda, Marin, and San Jose flea markets.

My father (sunglasses) and Secretary of State Dulles

In the early 80's they moved to a little house in Yountville California--it was packed with collections. He died in 2006, and after my stepmother died in 2010 (an event that led almost directly to me opening the store--see here) I had to choose what I wanted from their house. I took some special things for my children. For myself the things I wanted were mostly on the flea market end of things--including a large collection of wood-slice paintings he'd picked up here and there. I have about thirty landscapes--lakes, mountains, and so forth, in our Catskills house. I put a few for sale in the store.

Three wood slice paintings of the Cliff House in San Francisco, a place that was special to my father.

 This one, of Mission San Luis Obispo, California, I put in the Etsy store, thinking it might appeal to someone who lives there or collects items relating to missions.

Today, I got this message: "I live in San Luis Obispo and I have recently been put in charge of my elementary school's silent auction fundraiser and was hoping you might be interested in donating this piece. I just had to ask because I really love the idea of bringing this painting "home" and think it would be a huge hit in our auction. We are a terrific little elementary school..." 

I wrote back that I would be happy to donate it. My father would have enjoyed the travels of this little work of art created in San Luis Obispo in 1946 that wound up in Yountville California in the 1980's, Massachusetts in 2011 and is now going back to San Luis Obispo on a mission to raise money for an elementary school.

Jen

sea nettles and frog ponds

I went to the aquarium in Boston Friday. (Did any other aquarium have a band playing Celtic music the day before St. Patricks?) They have a fine exhibit of jellies.

                           jelly fish, New England Aquarium

As mentioned in my last post, when I was a child, I lived on the Severn River (in Maryland, not England) an estuary of the Chesapeake Bay. Every summer when the water warmed, the sea nettles (a species of jelly fish) came in. We scorned those kids who had community pools that looked like chlorinated concrete shoeboxes, when we could swim forever. I can still feel the sting and prickle of the nettles, a small price to pay for the vast, deep, ever-changing life of a river.

North American Sea Nettles, New England Aquarium

I enjoyed everything about the aquarium--adorable penguins, gorgeous tropical fish, goofy blowfish, massive sea turtles...but was particularly interested in a look at specific habitats such as salt marshes and mangrove swamps. They made me think of our frog pond in the Catskills.

                                            frog pond, Andes NY

On my evening walks in the spring and summer I look forward to the sounds of the frogs croaking and splashing as I near the pond. Approximately 1/3 of the world's frogs, toads and salamanders face extinction due to pollution, pesticides, climate change and habitat destruction. Frogs, with their permeable skin and land/water life cycle are extremely vunerable to changes in the environment. This sensitivity makes them an early warning system for ecological decline. Every spring, when I walk to the pond I am afraid that they will not be there, and I feel a palpable sense of relief when I hear the first deep rib-bit and the splash of a frog who wants nothing do with a human.

                      Madagascar tree frog, New England Aquarium

African bull frog, New England Aquarium