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herbs and children. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

parsley and rosemary. in what would seem their prime, it was time to harvest, for another frost might damage them and a freeze most certainly would. we covered them – along with the basil and the mint and the lavender – but it’s november and it’s wisconsin, so it was time to make some other choices. because it’s what we do, i researched. and then, with snippers, went out and snipped off stems, laying them gently on a cookie sheet so that i might freeze them and pull them out mid-winter to use: fresh herbs in the winter from our own potting stand will remind me that spring will, yes, arrive again.

and yes, i know it’s simple to run to the grocery store and pick up a fresh bundle of parsley and one of those little plastic containers of rosemary. but there is something to be said for these herbs that we grew, that gave us so much joy to watch as they flourished this summer. we simply bought them at lowe’s, planted them in good soil in good old clay pots, placed them in the sun, watered them as needed. and we celebrated them as they grew. mighty and strong.

it’s a little like children. you try your best to plant them in good soil, in solid but permeable pots, expose them to the sun and nutrients as they need them. and they flourish. and one day you are watching your daughter fly down the biggest mountain run in summit county – one of the highest inbound ski terrains in north america – on a snowboard, her skills generously coaching and instructing others. and another day you are watching your son’s hands fly across the mixer board, spinning electronic dance music, bringing elation – even rapture – to beautiful people expressing the freedom and joy of living. and then another day and another and another…mighty and strong.

it’s good dirt, a good pot, sun, nutrients. celebration.

and a whole lot of love.

maybe next year we’ll also plant sage and thyme – to complete the old folk song that goes through my mind every time i think of parsley and rosemary.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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northport’s woodbine. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

viriginia creeper…after the leaves have fallen. blue berries. it’s also called woodbine. and the instant that david told me that, i was back in northport.

for on the corner of woodbine avenue and main street sits skippers pub. it’s just on the other side of main from the park and the gazebo and the harbor boatslips and that place – at the end of the dock – where i have sat for hours and listened to the clanking of metal-rigged sails in the moonlight. it’s visceral.

some of the berries are gone now – only a few days since i took this picture. but as the temperatures drop, the critters have been busy, i suppose. and i hope that the woodbine berries help them prepare and stoke up.

in daydreams, i go back to skippers. sit at the bar and talk with crunch about fishing or diving or life, eat lobster bisque and baked clams, maybe sip a beer (back in the day). i go back when i was 18 or just barely 19; those earlier times were different than later.

a bunch of years back, david and i were on the island and we spent time walking around northport, spent time on the docks, spent time at skippers. we sat at the bar and ate baked clams and buffalo calamari. he sipped a guiness and i had a glass of wine. it was a little bit of heaven. i pointed out the window and, as he looked out, i knew he was looking out the same lettered window i had gazed out of decades ago. the view was a little changed – both from inside and out – of me.

but i could feel the energy of those times past and i could feel the bits of goodness that still floated about from happy moments spent there. skippers will always be a place of refuge in my mind – not because it was a pub – but because it was a place of joy, a place of innocence, of fun and friendship and tales of fishing and diving.

there will always be places we internally feel good about and, of course, the complete opposite – places that are inherently negative, that drudge up things toxic or painful. each of us can likely rattle off a few examples of each category.

skippers – on the corner of woodbine and main – will remain one of the good ones.

and now, each time i pass our dear westneighbors’ fence along our driveway and see the woodbine curling and stretching and growing on the wooden posts, i will likely smile and think of baked clams and lobster bisque and the long island when i was 18.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

click on image above – aqua agua mit rouge – to view on david’s gallery

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when we dance. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

he invariably joins in. dogga cannot just watch us dance. he stands on his strong aussie legs and joins with us. it is utterly one of the sweetest things. he’s like that with hugs, too. he wants to be a part of it.

since we love to dance together – even a few steps here and there – he has plenty of opportunities to watch (and join). we dance in the front yard, on the back deck, in the living room, in the kitchen. there is nothing like a slow dance to (literally) slow you down, tune you inside, make you feel like everything-is-going-to-be-ok in the world. maybe that’s why we’ve always danced together – from the very beginning.

and to think that dogdog is right there, with us, makes me realize that – actually – he must love when we dance.

so do we.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2023 kerrianddavid.com
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no pause button. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it snowed.

luckily, we had covered the parsley and rosemary and lavender. the mint and basil are far gone. now i have to figure out how to save these others.

i read that you can simply snip off the parsley and rosemary stems and freeze them, so that seems the best solution. the lavendar, though…

i used to have a lavender garden out back. it was thriving until my eastneighbor’s snow-on-the-mountain continuously grew under the fence and suffocated it. that is some aggressive groundcover. i suppose it’s too late in the season now to try that again. over there, next to barney, the perfect spot. i wonder if it’s beyond the time to transplant it into the ground. maybe the next frost will hold off…

i could bring the whole plant inside to winter – it’s a really large pot, though.

i could snip off the lavendar and hang small bunches of them upside down, maybe create some sachets after they’ve dried.

i’ll have to decide soon; i may have waited too long already. the snow was a bit of a surprise and it caught me off-guard. it’s like this weird time-between seasons. sort of like a mixed-berry jam. not just one. not just the other.

in some ways, i feel like i need a pause button. just to pause fall for a minute or two – to drive out in the county and stop at the farmstands with pumpkins and gourds. to go to the apple orchard that has homemade wine tasting and apple cider donuts. to take some more time to crunch on leaves underfoot in the woods. to wear boots and jeans and not-yet-a-heavy-coat.

but winter’s coming on and, even though we sat on the deck late-night last week with shorts and our fire column burning, time keeps moving.

glancing out back as i write this – ahead – snow lingering on the grasses – there is no doubt.

there is no pause button.

*****

LET ME TAKE YOU BACK from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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anticipation. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

there is this corner in our lakefront neighborhood. we take walks around the ‘hood, looking forward to this particular spot.

in the middle of every other nod to autumn, this corner glows. the maples there are in soft focus – all golden and pink. it is like seeing through a filter, stepping under a fresnel spot with a lighting gel. we make room to stop and take it in…each and every time we pass by.

some things are like that. we know them well and, yet, we anticipate them, knowing how they make us feel, knowing that we will be better for them. these trees.

there are spots on our favorite trails like this…when we enter the pine stands or when the trail curves through the forest…when we walk high above the river below us…when we turn into the afternoon sun with the meadow to our right. there is a spot as we come out of the tunnel on the highway and i can see the high rockies stretching out in front of us. there is a spot on the ditch trail in aspen – at the end – deep in the woods where there are rocks you can sit on as the stream breaks around you. there is a fallen log in breckenridge, up a ways on the path, next to the brook. there is another higher, in the meadow that opens to the sky.

someday, i will go stand again where my daughter and i stood, in canyonlands, and i will satisfy the anticipation of being there – in that spot of unspeakable emotion – once again.

someday, i will go stand on crab meadow beach again and – with anticipation and all-that-has-been-since washing over me – maybe i will feel what i used to feel there, way way earlier, the freedom of being, the anticipation of future.

the knowing of these places doesn’t take them off the list of places-to-go. rather, it’s the sheer knowing that keeps them on the list. it’s the recognition, the familiarity, the unbridled comfort.

as we turn the corner and look ahead, we can see the trees down at the next intersection. so much beauty. we both look forward to getting closer.

we are not on a luxurious vacation nor are we rambling much away from our careful budget. we are recognizing the we-are-here-ness and that is what we have right now – we have right now. if we can remember to anticipate each moment this way, we will truly be living.

and then, there is the feeling when we see our driveway, when we walk in the door. the spotlight pulls back and bathes our home in gratitude.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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joan’s tomato soup. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

and this week will drop down into the 20s and 30s. i suppose it is time to turn on the heat.

it’s also time for us to start breaking out all our favorite recipes for soups and stews, slow cooker or stockpot or tagine meals. time to try some new ones.

we’ve made joan’s tomato soup several times now. we make special trips to tenuta’s, an italian grocery in town for specific tomatoes. simple, healthy ingredients, it is nourishing and wildly comforting. with a baguette on the side – or a grilled wisconsin-5-year-cheddar cheese sandwich – it speaks to the need for reassurance and warmth.

we were in costco when we stumbled upon san marzano tomatoes – in a 106 ounce can. such a deal – a third of the cost had we bought 28 ounce cans – we didn’t pass it up. instead, we will make a giant vat of tomato soup, sharing some with 20 and freezing some – sans the fresh basil. since this week will really drop in temperature, i’ll put it on the calendar.

we are starting to pull out warmer vests, more clothes, our 32 degree baselayers, socks and – drumroll – our favorite furry boots. i can’t quite wear the furry boots until the first of november merely two days away, but all the other layers already apply. we are solidly in fall. the weather app doesn’t show any temp above 45, save for three days – anomalies – in the 50s. and we’ll see if those stick.

i suppose it’s time to put away the jean shorts and the capris, the tank tops and the flipflops. it’s time to pull out the 180° earmuffs and david’s favorite hat and have gloves at-the-ready. there’s no going back.

i guess maybe i’ll put on the flannel sheets.

and maybe i’ll switch on the heat. we’ll see.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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lists. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

i am a list person. paper and pencils and pens. lists.

i love the crinkly sound paper makes when there’s a lot written on it and the texture of lined looseleaf scrawled with copious notes in fine point pen. tactile heaven. i’ve tried to keep my grocery list on the phone, but the phone and i struggle in the store together when the list tries disappearing as i delete items i purchase. paper never pushes back that way.

our lists-of-things-to-do ebbs and flows like the tide. eh. not really. it’s not quite that poetic. our lists-of-things-to-do generally flows – like the drains in basements after torrential rains without the benefit of a sump pump.

lists seem to propagate themselves, adding, adding, adding. perhaps this is so we always have a feeling of accomplishment and future goals set. yes, i’m sure that’s why.

my favorite thing to do – when it comes to lists – is cross things off. with an old spiral notebook from a stack of the girl’s and the boy’s elementary, junior high, high school leftovers, i keep track of the stuff-i/we-need-to-do. i am not hesitant in the least bit to add something we have done that is not on the list simply to be able to cross it off. it’s a visceral reward. everyone gets credit for everything. even the tiniest of chores.

in the meanwhile, after any week that you could call a helluva week, it would seem prudent to add “nap” to the list. surely, one would have no problem crossing that off.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2023 kerrianddavid.com

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in every season. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

the ornamental grasses weren’t there – out the window – when the studio was the nursery. instead, there were hedges – ancient hedges lining the front of the house, thick hedges lining the driveway, dense hedges in front of the old brick wall. it looked completely different all hedged in.

i’d sit in the rocking chair in the nursery with my babies and watch the seasons go by out the window. rocking them to sleep, reading a book, nursing, we spent many, many hours in that rocking chair. and i spent many hours with sleeping infants in my arms gazing out the window, pondering the season out there and the season inside. somewhere there is a recording of my song rocking chair seasons, but i’m not sure where.

it is evident from the grasses what season we are in. looking out any front window – or back, for that matter – there are grasses answering to the dance of the calendar. they sprout out of the ground in later spring and then rise skyward. stunning in the breeze, they are tall and willowy in hot summer sun. and then, the plumes. gorgeous and feathery. and now, the grasses are golden orange, a showy nod to the cool of autumn. even later they will stand in the snow, catching the winter winds. all just out the window. a timeline of life.

the rocking chair is now downstairs in the basement – one of two in david’s studio. the crib and the changing table and all the babystuff is no longer in my studio, though just outside the door hang tiny shoes on a doorknob which were my girl’s and my boy’s when they were little.

sometimes i stand by the window in the studio – at the same angle that the rocking chair sat – and look out. it is easy to get lost in the memories that flood in.

the seasons have changed. they are all-grown-up and living creative and independent lives, strong humans in this world.

i’m still right here – and always will be for them, waving my plume in the air, rooting for them at every turn, in every season.

and i look at the grasses in their perennial transition as time passes and realize it is all the same.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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eight daisies. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

and the early morning autumn sun streams in the window at a different angle, shining into my face, making me squint and scooch over under the quilt. the light pours over us and, though the air in the room is chilly, we are warmed by the intensity of this october suntilt.

it is our anniversary. eight years ago today we were surrounded by family and friends. we took vows of commitment in this second chance we both had and spontaneously skipped down the aisle to the ukulele band playing and everyone singing “what a wonderful world” after we were declared “married”. the day was glorious – sunny and in the 70s – and everyone gathered at the old beachhouse, warm sand and lakeshore boulders inviting walks, sitting, a late bonfire. we all danced and ate sliders from the food truck, homemade daisy cupcakes and wine from the corner store in our ‘hood. we celebrated in community.

this year will be quieter. we will perhaps take the day. we may go hiking or go visit a town in which we love to stroll and browse. maybe we’ll try to track down the burgermeister food truck, sit in the sun and reminisce. we’ll see.

but before we start – before our feet hit the floor to getamoveon – we’ll just sit here under the autumnglowing quilt with dogga at our feet, sip our coffee and be in wonder that two people – worlds apart – had the good fortune to somehow meet.

our tiny stars somehow aligned, bumped into each other in the galaxy and glimmerdust washed over us, never to be the same, always to be loved.

*****

AND NOW – a wedding song ©️ 2015 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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our spiffy hose. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we were hose-holdouts. we had those hard rubber (and some hard plastic) hoses that are just difficult to deal with – the kind that bend back on themselves and kink and stop the waterflow (which, of course, is their entire role in life). one of them was attached to one of those hose rollup reel thingies that has a handle and you roll the hose onto it, trying to guide it into place (because it all somehow reels into the same spot) while simultaneously getting wet and muddy from the hose which is supposed to just easily glide into place on the rollup thingie.

we admired other people’s gardenhoses. they had nifty wrinkled-up expandable miracle hoses. they had lightweight-rubber-hoses-that-never-kinked. they had expandable-retractable hoses of many colors. we were in hose-envy with no hose-budget.

until one day.

the amazon guy left a couple boxes out in front of our door. now, this is a very exciting day. we order little and so we are ridiculously excited to see a box on our doorstep. truly, ridiculously.

two boxes. one was the spiffiest 50′ expandable hose – lightweight, all curled up like a sleeping garden snake, ready to take on our backyard. the other box had a bright neon green watering wand, which has to be one of the best inventions of all time. gifts from one of my beautiful nieces, we did a we’re-catching-up-in-the-world happy dance and relieved the heavy old hose from its duty on our deck.

it makes a difference, i must say. one wants to spend time watering with a hose that isn’t like lugging the entire water table along behind you sans sherpa-help. the wand is truly amazing (and i know we must be many years behind with this one, having been the proud owners of handheld nozzles for a bazillion years – the kinds that invariably don’t seal properly onto the hose screwtop receiver and spray sideways all over you as you attempt to use it.)

now, i stand calmly and peacefully – even zen-like – with my watering wand and obedient expandable-retractable-lightweight-miracle-hose and move from spot to spot in the backyard. i gently and tenderly – without jerking the hose along – sprinkle my herbs and rain down on our ornamental grasses and ferns.

everything has benefited from this combo. but mostly me.

the simplest upgrade-change – something newfangled! – has made a difference in a chore. it has made it a gift of slowing-down-time, of appreciating the growth of our gardens around us, a kind of meditation.

mostly, we have entered the twenty-first century of hoses. and we are feeling like the cat’s meow.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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MEDITATION acrylic 48″x48″

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