Tag: Poetry
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Slightly Off-kilter
Another milestone. Interior structural cladding of the west wall is now complete. This will please the engineer. And this, in turn, pleases me. Even when the photograph, subtly askew, causes me to question perspective, to reach out for the countertop, steadying myself. It’s as if I’ve been sailing and, stepping ashore, I need to pause…
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Generosity of Friends: Lemons from Afar
Picture perfect lemons arranged in an enormous clay bowl. Layers of largess. The sweet tart citrus was a gift from a recent friend married to my former student of 25+ years. The ceramic vessel, wheel thrown by my godfather, OMC, in the 1970s and gifted to my mother was recently regifted to Susan and me.…
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Peach Haikus
Today’s a day for peach haikus. With blustery storm incoming, our team concerned about balancing inclement weather reports with an ambitious 4-day scope of work, and the sort of bone-deep chill that shivers the bones and shakes the confidence, I propose that we take a micro-vacation. How’s that? Let’s flip the calendar back to sunny…
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Phoenix Rising
Hroth sent me the photograph above so that we could troubleshoot some subtle details for the old/new icehouse entrance and the relationship between the door and the still-to-come exterior landing. I think we’re 99% in sync, but we’ll hash out the details tomorrow so that we’re 100% in sync. In the meantime, I’m enchanted with…
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Homestead Haikus
I often refer to Rosslyn as a homestead, but I’m aware that might mislead some of you. No livestock. That’s probably the biggest deviation from most self proclaimed homesteads. No chickens. No pigs, sheep, or goats. No milk cow. No 160 acre land grant (though we’ve slowly grown Rosslyn’s acreage to more than a third…
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Leaky Spigot
I’m fond of the French word, “robinetterie“. In English the translation is “fixtures”. Not quite as intriguing a word, in my opinion. Nor are “plumbing fixtures”, “faucets”, etc. But “spigot“, now that’s a fine word! It conjures the drip, drip, drip… of a leaky spigot. I know, pretty subjective, and perhaps a little esoteric. But…
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Tempest & Terroir
It’s time for a tumble into tempest and terroir. And so I return to storms and dirt. To dirt and storms. More specifically I revisit that sudden, destructive blast that crashed through the Adirondack Coast between Westport and Essex back on August 30, 2022. (See “Storm Damage” for the gory details.) And then I fast…
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Autumn Vibes
Sugar maples ablaze between the orchard, gardens, and barns. What a season! Thanks, Pam, for capturing the autumn vibes from this fun vantage point in the nearest of Rosslyn’s meadows. Although leaf peeping fiery fall foliage is inevitably and justifiably the cynosure this time of year, autumn vibes are aroused insubtler ways as well. Ripe…
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Old House, New Home
I’ve lived much, perhaps even *most* of my life in old houses. With the exception of late middle and high school, 3/4 of college, briefly in Santa Fe (1996-9), and briefly in Paris and Rome, my homes have been within old houses. And, come to think of it, some of my boarding school years were…
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Papaver Bee-ing
Whether hummingbirds or butterflies or honey bees or bats or scores of other pollinators accidentally doing the work of fertilizing flowers from generation to generation, the appetite for nectar powers progeny. A sweet song of perpetuity. A dulcet dance engendering poppies aplenty. Papaver Bee-ing, Haiku By coincidencea poppy pollinator,the bee nectaring. I wonder, in our…
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Lone Oak
I remember, as a boy, seeing a mature bald eagle sitting in this oak tree. It must’ve been 1984 or 1985. My mother was driving us from Rock Harbor to Plattsburgh, where we went to school. It was less common to see bald eagles back then. They were present in the Champlain Valley, but less…
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October Rain
Sometimes it’s as if frames from two different films overlap. For a moment. Sometimes longer. Occasionally the overlapping images complement one another, but often the experience is jarring. Confusing. Unsettling. Seasons bleed into one another playfully, testing our agility, our resilience. Far-flung geographies, domiciles, and life stages muddle, merge, and drift apart again. Our worlds…