Sharing food...

My herb garden was really nice this year. In the last two weeks, however, my parsley and dill plants have been decimated. The culprit? This swallow tail butterfly Caterpillar and a half a dozen of his friends. I had plenty to share, and don't begrudge them the herbs. Much.

Speaking of sharing... last night we had dinner with our good friends. Here in Maine there is quite a culture of raising ones own food. Last nights meal consisted of:
Roast chicken (raised by my friends)
Mashed potatoes (made with fresh milk, from my friends cow)
Green beans (yup, from the garden!)
tomatoes and cucumbers sliced up with onions and chives (all grown by one of us)
Baked Jarlsberg dip (onions from my garden)

In this case the friends did most of the raising of the food, we did most of the cooking... but between the four of us we prepared a meal which consisted of very little grocery store food. And really, it was all simply delicious.

Feelin' frisky...

The lambs do several things well. The eat a lot, pee and poop a lot, and they play "smack the cranium" a lot. As they have gotten bigger, the sound of their hooves thundering across the grass, followed by the CRACK of their skulls colliding is a bit... thunderous.

Having been on the receiving end of a few gentle butts from the boys, I am very respectful of their strength. The dogs are, too. We are beginning to walk softly and carry a big stick when we are in the yard with "the boys."

Kindness...

This jellyfish floated past me last weekend while I waded in the Gulf.
I was struck by the way its tentacles fanned out around it, ready to touch anything within its reach.

This morning dawned unseasonably cold and with high winds and pelting rain. The hot water heater had hiccuped, so I had to take an icy shower before work. I was not my absolute cheery best when I began my work day.

And then... and then, a vacationing man came and handed me his dog. He beamed at me. He said, "That last haircut was the best one our dog ever had! You did SUCH a nice job. My wife and I wish you would move to where we live and groom!" And there it was. A tentacle. Reaching out, and changing the entire tenor of my day.

I need to spread more tentacles out. Don't you?

Fair Season...

It is Fair season in Maine. Many of the small towns that spangle this state host fairs in the late summer and fall. Since Maine is a state rich in agriculture, these small town fairs still boast barns full of cattle, swine, sheep, goats and poultry.

Last night we attended the Union Fair. We watched the horse pulls, where teams of draft horses are hitched to sleds stacked high with granite. Muscles rippling, hooves pounding, they lurch and pull and heave. We saw pens full of sheep, saw teenagers deftly handling beef cattle and other livestock for 4-H, and admired row upon row of lovely, sleek dairy cows.

Of course there was traditional "fair food," sausage sandwiches, fried dough, funnel cakes, french fries, onion blossoms, and more. The air was full of the sounds of the fair; barkers barking, the music from the rides, laughter, chatter, the high pitched screams of girls on the roller coaster.
The smell of fair food was over ridden by the smell of the poultry barn, the cow barn, the pigs, sleek and grunting.

Together we wandered through buildings filled with hand stitched quilts and clothing, projects by children, photography and art by neighbors. We admired tractors and tools, and chatted with friends we bumped into along the way.

We love to the flavor of fairs....

Blog by Request...

One of my blog readers asked for a chicken update, and I am more than happy to oblige!
Here is the flock. The three in the background are last years ladies, RoBIRDa, HENrietta and LAYah. In the foreground we have (from left to right) Poach the rooster, Omelet and Quiche the pullets, and the white one is Meringue. The jury is still out as to what gender Meringue is. It's a puzzle that vexes me. And in case you are wondering, the black and white chickens are Silver Laced Wyandottes. The other is a White Wyandotte.

Poach the rooster has learned to crow, and exercises his new voice long and loudly. It is rather amusing at this point... but I can see where one might tire of that particular song. All the birds are enjoying the beautiful late summer weather. They have over an acre of fenced yard to roam, and roam they do, scratching and up dirt, eating bugs, worms and plants, and in general looking just about as happy as chickens can look. In the evening they retire to their secure coop and sleep soundly, dreaming little birdie dreams.

Two sweet....

I could have done worse in the in law department! These two lovely ladies are my husbands big sisters. They are so cute! And sweet, and talented. There is something magical about being around them, with their similar hair styles, and often matching clothing, and endless fascinating conversation. They dearly love to be together, and I dearly love to be in on a visit to see them in action.

Hurricane Katrina...

Four years ago hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf coasts of Mississippi and Louisiana.
We have been frequent visitors to this part of the world, as some of our favorite family calls it home.

This weekend we went back for the first time since the storm. If you had never been there before, you might not notice that the place is in a state of renewal, but if the area was familiar to you... oh!

What struck me the most was the sense of impermanence. Places that I took for granted would remain long after I was gone, are now nothing more than a rubble of brick or a smooth, concrete pad. On my in-law's street, driveway after driveway leads hauntingly to nothing. Places where homes once stood are now being overgrown with local vegetation. Birds and wild life are now at home where bedrooms and kitchens and family rooms once housed human souls.

And yet... there is new growth everywhere. Buildings such as these pictured are now dotting the once defeated landscape. Brightly colored, built above the storm surge, evidence of life and hope and growth and renewal dot this ravaged landscape.

My sister and brother in law now live in a home redone. They reclaimed it from feet of flood water, hundreds of pounds of fallen tree and debris. They hauled and cleaned and lost and lost and worked and remade the home where they raised children and fed friends and prayed and loved and grew and still, ultimately lost. They lost much, but not as much as some. And in the end, they gained... a beautifully redone home. Yet... the Katrina hurricane will remain a pivotal event in their lives.

Everywhere along this coast the evidence of tragedy lingers. And in its wake, hope and renewal grow. Bright and clean and full of life. The human spirit shines. Perhaps no more brightly than in the face of tragedy.