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front door fan. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we are back door people. we haven’t always been back door people, but years ago the handle on the front door refused to unlock properly, so the only sensible thing to do was become back door people. and so, ever since then, i could count the number of times we have used the front door as our entry – even since the locksmith came and fixed the front door lock.

but lately – with the significant amount of ice on our driveway from the ice-damming of which you are weary of reading about – we have been parking in the driveway a bit further down and – drumroll – going in the front door.

this confuses the dog. he has gotten used to our entry through the backdoor – it’s been the norm for most of his life. when we come in the front door, he arrives in the living room looking a bit befuddled. but dogga comes around quickly – acknowledging our arrival home – and his aussie wigglebutt starts wagging.

i have to say – though it’s been quite a while now since the locksmith smithed the lock – having two options as doors feels rather decadent. and gives one a different perspective on one’s home.

i haven’t been an attached-garage person for three and a half decades – though that was fun while it lasted. the never-get-wet, never-get-cold, never-get-hot, never-get-misted on – all of that – is rather nice. but that ended in florida and I wouldn’t trade the non-attached-garage personhood identity for florida residency.

so. the front door.

because we used to exit LBS or big red and walk down the driveway toward the garage and through the ever-popular metal accordion-folding ghetto fence, up the deck steps and across the deck to the back door, we would see back yard things on our way in. we’d gaze and stop and comment – on breck-our-aspen, on the flowers, on the deck seating areas, on the birdfeeder or birdbath birds, on the squirrels – whatever caught our interest, struck our fancy.

now – at least in these last two weeks – we have been – really – noticing the front door stuff. it is impossible to not appreciate the grasses as you walk to the front door. and in these last snowfalls, these grasses are utterly gorgeous. bent under the weight of the heavy sticky snow, they gracefully give to the season, knowing that their return in the spring and summer will be mighty. each blade, each frond – yellowed with autumn – now covered with pristine white fluff.

when you allow things to take your breath away – even simple things – it is amazing how many things will do just that.

one of these days we will go back to primarily using the back door. there’s always lots to see, despite how well we know these bitty routes in daily life.

in the meanwhile, i’m gonna be a front door fan.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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attentively attentive. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the headline on the catalog page read: don’t just go somewhere. be somewhere.

i lounged in the gravity chair on our deck and looked up. just beyond the peaked roof of our house, inbetween the pine tree and our westneighbor’s tv antenna, with the wire that stretches across our driveway stretched right through it, there it was:

the clouds had drawn the sun. exactly like i would have done it had i had big fat sidewalk chalk in my hand and i was drawing on the breezy jet-streamed canvas of the sky: an arc for the sun, rays coming from the hot center. it was obvious, clear, pretty doggone cool.

i grabbed the phone to take a picture and, before it disappeared as if someone had lifted the cellophane on a magic slate, drew it to d’s attention. we were both a tiny bit giddy at this small gift in the sky.

and that’s how i want to live. being somewhere. in each moment.

with all the horrific going on, it is not hard to wonder about time limits on presence.

so – in addition to paying attention, to drawing attention, to downright attentiveness attention to all of that horrific – i’m going to pay attention, draw attention, be downright attentively attentive to being here.

wherever here is at the moment.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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little. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we had all but given up.

pretty much each year – for years – we have had a frog in our pond out back.

but this year there was simply nothing.

to say we were disappointed would understate how much these frogs have meant to us. we were pretty sad and wondered if we had done something that had inhibited a frog from choosing our tiny pond as a summer home.

until a few days ago.

d had seen a glimpse of green hopping in the water a few days prior, but we could not tiptoe up to the pond quietly enough to see it sunning on a rock or watching the world go by, tucked into a nook or cranny. we thought it was simply a momentary visit.

on thursday, though, we had a lucky day. and, as we stood quietly at the side of our pond, scouring the edges for a sighting of a frog, there he was.

little.

we named him “little” not at all having to do with his import to us, but because he seemed one of the smallest frogs to have lived in our pond.

you would have thought we had found gold coins hidden in the rocks of our water feature – our excitement was off the charts.

and – because every frog needs a theme song – i could instantly hear his in my head (sung to the tune of sugar, sugar by the archies): little – ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba/ oh, little little ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba/ you are our tiny frog/ and you got us hop-hoppin. (etc etc etc)

each year has brought a different reason to look for the meaning of a frog’s visit in our personal world. each year the resilience and transformation, renewal and abundance messages have been positive bits of symbolism for us and have made us feel that grace has dropped in for a visit.

this year is no different. little’s appearance has been like a single candle lit in a dark night – a warm glow, a talisman for reflection and hope.

we never know how long the frog will stay. but we do know that just making an appearance is a gift. for our small pond – in the middle of other suburban yards of grass and gardens – is maybe 18 square feet – and it seems fortuitous that a tiny frog would even find it.

but maybe somewhere in frogland there is a list…and frogs can check it – like airbnb – to see where they might find a little pond they can call their own. or maybe where it is they may be named and doted upon. or maybe where it is they might get their own theme song.

we hope little hangs around for a while.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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nonetheless. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

mid 80s, late 80s, the 90s – it was a thing. posies of dried flowers everywhere you could find a spot. on indoor trellises, tucked into cornices, hooked onto doors, gathered in bowls, in wreaths and vases and garlands, in frames and potpourri vessels. so many dried flowers.

and it wasn’t that they weren’t beautiful. next to the quilts on quilt racks and the doilies on the side tables, old silverware windchimes, painted wooden tchotchkes and cross-stitch anything, the dried flowers complimented the style of the times – this nod to nostalgic country-ish.

there was a day – years ago – when, having been surrounded by dried flowers for decades, i literally walked around my home with a big garbage bag and tossed all the dried flowers i had managed to hang, tuck, hook, trellis, gather, weave, drape, frame or potpourri-mix. it – this decorating obsession with things-dried – was suddenly done.

(now, to be fair, currently, there’s a posy of lavender from our garden in a small glass milk pitcher and a couple reeds from a hike. oh, and a few hydrangea from out front. of course, there are two big branches in our house now, not to mention driftwood from long island and an aspen log from the forest in breckenridge, but, in essence…for the most part…in theory and almost-all-application, the dried-flower-dust-accumulator period is over.)

instead, as we hike along the river and in the woods and walk in the ‘hood, we watch the flowers of the meadows and the gardens changing. their waning beauty draws me in – even more than their mid-summer blossom. there is something about the fading flower, something about the button left after the petals fall, something about the curve of the wilting coneflower or a tired black-eyed susan, the almost-fluffless dandelion, the loves-me-loves-me-not petal-less daisy. i stop and linger with them, always curious how graceful it is they go into fallow, this period of rest, how they so readily give over to this change in appearance when humans seem to resist so vehemently any visible aging.

the 1980s/1990s dried-flower-hanger/tucker/gatherer in me rises as i admire these beautiful nods to autumn’s arrival. but i leave the flowers in the meadow, in the garden, in the marsh next to the river, in the woods.

and, instead, i carry their beauty – and the moments i was witness to it – with me, knowing that diminished beauty is – nonetheless – beautiful.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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sustain beauty. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

it was a spontaneous excursion – an unexpected morning a bit ago with no obligation. we got in the car early and drove down to the botanic garden.

as we came around the corner, d stopped and asked me to take a picture. the tree – shaped like a square – was something out of cartoonland. a filled-with-wonder dr. seuss and winnie the pooh mashup. this morning at the garden was definitely what we needed.

every step got slower. we paused and lingered over blooms; we drank in the quiet. this time of day in the garden was divine. we vowed to go more often, to soak up this place – so much beauty, such intention to sustaining it.

it’s really what i cannot fathom: the idea of not working to sustain the beauty of this country, instead, working to destroy it.

the list of places we’d love to go is lengthy. they are not shopping malls or shipping warehouses or land massacred for its resources. the list is the quiet places. the places of grandeur. the places that are understatedly glorious. the places that are wild, that are wide-open, that embrace all who step there.

sustaining the beauty of this country is not just about the environmental legacy of its sea-to-shining-sea. it is about its history – the good, the bad, the ugly. it is about the learnings, the coming-of-age into democracy – rights and privileges deemed law for the populace. it is about the diversity of its people, the gifts that we each bring – spokes in the wheel. it is about the sustaining of care and concern for each other, empathy as a moral code, compassion as a north star. the list of places of integrity within the hearts and minds of those in positions of leadership.

for those who do not wish to perpetuate goodness, who wish to forward messages of hatred and cruelty, who have no intention of sustaining beauty of any sort – these are people i cannot grok. it is impossible to wrap my head around the embrace of such immorality. it is impossible for me to understand such a disregard for decorum, for human dignity, for the wonder of living in the universe, for peaceful coexistence.

“unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. it’s not.” (dr. seuss)

someone like each and every one of us.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

WEEPING MAN 36” x 48”

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protect it. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

she said (words to the effect), “he’s worried that with all the politics and the chaos and everything else that is happening, fewer are paying attention to climate change.”

breck is growing by leaps and bounds, it seems. the top leaves are taller than the garage peak. it is both astounding and delightful, this little aspen tree.

because it has been an extraordinarily hot summer, i have watered breck consistently. last year the heat took a toll on breck and you could see it on stressed leaves so – between that and watching martijn watering his young trees on the youtube of his idyllic life in the mountains of italy – i decided it would be best to tend it more. breck has responded with glorious growth, rich verdant leafing, a bark that is appearing more white, quaking in every breeze, soaking up the attention.

and climate change continues.

because we are being expected to play along with the distraction games going on in our nation, our focus is being whipped from one manufactured disaster to another, with an attempt to keep our attention off all things horrific. because the current administration is gutting all things organic, all things scientific, all things that point to the intensified global warming that is caused by us humans – we will reap what we have sown and the already apocalyptic weather events will worsen. the damage is being done as we ping-pong back and forth between watching the gilding of the oval and the normalization of insane rhetoric, untruths of propaganda, a dying justice system, cruelty on the streets.

and climate change continues.

breck – in our backyard – dances when i water it with the watering wand. i can see it sigh with relief. just like, in particular, the basil and the sweet potato vine. the wilty jalapeño leaves immediately perk up, the cilantro ceases reclining in its pot. it doesn’t take much.

even as we love being right here – sharing space in our backyard with breck – we miss being out in the mountains. we feel at home there and yearn for a time to return. we know they will be there when we have a chance to make the trip.

we do, however, know that there is much happening out there. it is hotter, there are more wildfires and, hence, more mudslides. there is increased smoke at elevation, there is drought, there is risk for all wildlife and ecosystems. water availability is significantly stressed and pestilence is becoming more severe. erosion is accelerating with big-money-mongering efforts at more timber harvesting and various mining operations. the landscape is changing and we – as a species – are at fault.

meanwhile, the oval office and the colonnade are being tchotchked with gold – everywhere. the disrespect – of the people’s house, the people’s land, the people’s country, the people – is rampant.

there’s no reason to gild the lily of sea-to-shining-sea-america, the beautiful. it needs no ladening of gold, no tchotchkying of adornments. there is every single reason to protect it.

i’m pretty sure our mother earth would soak up the attention.

*****

WATERSHED © 2004 kerri sherwood

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an endless list. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

he says that one day we must go on a trip that is specifically about photography. that we will slowwwwly stroll – wherever it is we are – and i can stop and linger – at any time – and take a picture – or twenty – of any single thing along the way. i am excited about that and we have a really, really long list of the places we might choose as destinations. an endless list, actually.

the funny thing is – this is pretty much how i do every day. on the trail, in our backyard, at the garden center, at our potting stand, in the antique shoppe, at the grocery store, in our ‘hood, in the mountains, on the beach – anywhere.

i have always loved taking photographs. even a dear old friend, who i hadn’t spoken with in about four decades, remembered that i always had a camera in my hand whenever she and i were together. it goes way back…for me, to those pocket instamatic cameras and the cameras with the square bulbs on the top that rotated for the next shot. in college i did photo shoots with my new 35mm manual camera for extra money. i climbed fences to take sunrise shots on beaches. i hiked in rivers to capture the fauna along the edges. i adored being the photography editor of my college paper, toting my camera to disco parties, softball games, campus events, college-sponsored ski trips, lunch with paul simon. if there were no pictures of something or someone from back then, there were good reasons.

there have also been times – along the way – when i have realized that taking photographs would take away from the moment – and, in those times, i have chosen to put the camera away – to simply memorize the moment instead. but this thready heart of mine loves to scroll back through images that place life and time.

it feels somewhat like cheating when you take photographs at a nursery such as i did for today’s image. i wandered about the aisles and aisles, greenhouses and gardens of nearby milaegers, entranced by the vast opportunity to capture color, texture, utter beauty. there is no end to it. even the flowers that are wilting are absolutely divine. i walk, arm in arm with david, and i feel fortunate to see so much that touches so many senses. it is impossible to not feel it. we are surrounded by the glorious.

and so we plan – one day – to take a trip sheerly about photography. i will be excited to plan it, to choose idyllic places and vistas that offer moments like the shimmer of sun on iridescent raindrops.

in the meanwhile, i will carry my iphone and its remarkable camera everywhere i go, capturing everything else that is beautiful, that is evocative, that means something, that will be a source of joy or heart or memory, that is life.

it is an endless list.

*****

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

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sweet potato sprouts. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we are sweet potato fans. and it was in recent research we realized we had been storing our sweet potatoes incorrectly – in the fridge. no wonder they were going bad sooner than we expected. so we moved them (and the russets and the gold yukons and the vidalia onions and the garlic) to a hanging basket in the stairwell which seemed to exponentially lengthen the life of this store-bought produce.

and then there was this day.

david – laughing – said, “ya gotta go look at the sweet potato in the stairwell!”

to say that i was surprised was understating. hot pink shoots were growing out of our sweet potato…sweet raspberry-colored, tiny-leafed shoots of a plant…right there in the basket hanging over the stairs, over the bin with dogga treats, next to the angle-broom and the swiffer, adjacent to the bag-o-bags hook.

and a science experiment was born as, suddenly, we were farming sweet potato.

we put some good potting soil in a planter and – just guessing, with no research – we planted the entire sprouted sweet potato tuber in the dirt. we watered it and stood back.

now, we had no idea what to expect. we truly did feel like we were in junior high – with a science fair project report due in a few weeks.

instantly, i was back in ninth grade, typing my lab reports on thin erasable typing paper. i loved typing and used any excuse to type. my earth science teacher – everyone’s favorite – charlie – graded our lab reports on a check system. check, check-plus, check-plus-plus, check-minus. i pretty much always got a check-plus-plus because, well, that was the kind of diligent student i was. he never wrote any comments on my lab reports, which was disappointing, so i began to wonder if he was really reading them. i decided to experiment a bit. i started to include the words of nursery rhymes – randomly – in my lab reports. i kept getting check-plus or check-plus-plus and he never said a word, convincing me that any genius lab report i might have written had gone undetected. years later we crossed paths on some social media and i reached out, asking him if, perchance, he remembered me. his response was classic: “of course! you typed nursery rhymes in the middle of your lab reports. how could i forget you?” but i digress.

in just days our little sweet potato’s tiny leaves leafed out and it has begun a growth cycle that will force us to reckon with what to do next. we are considering a metal trough planter, but also recognize that there isn’t long enough for the sweet potatoes to develop into sweet potatoes. it is a conundrum. but a truly sweet (no pun intended) reminder of the amazing turns of life and growth and actualization.

in a time during which so much is grabbing at our attention, a country and people disappointing us beyond belief, more corruption than we can wrap our heads around, we are grateful for this hot pink attention-grabbing sweet potato slip.

“live life, my sweet potato,” my momma always told me. i think i feel some sprouts comin’ on.

*****

GRATEFUL © 2004 kerri sherwood

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teasels and old cars. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the teasels in the meadow kept getting my attention: “look at me!! i’m a layer-cake!!” they called out.

these seussical thistles are everywhere right now, lining the roads we take to our trails, lining the trails, populating the meadows, running alongside the river…simply everywhere. and they have personality!

this summer has been extraordinarily hot and humid. the tropical conditions have made everything-that-loves-sun explode. we feel as if we can literally stand and watch the growth of several of our plants outside – a time-lapse would prove amazing and almost other-worldly.

on one of our trails the other day – before we both melted away – i kept pulling out my camera to take one after another photograph of yet another teasel. i also kept thinking that my dear friend susan – gifted with ridiculously artistic culinary skills – could easily create a teasel cake – and it would look exactly like these.

friday night we stood at the end of our street to watch a parade. the town was hosting an amc (american motors company) celebration. not knowing what to expect out of the parade, but confident that the number of people lining the curb indicated some level of ‘cool’, we waited on the corner for it to start.

and ‘cool’ it was. an utterly charming old-timey parade of cars made its way past us: ramblers, pacers, amx, matadors, ambassadors, gremlins, jeeps, javelins, and my personal favorite, the metropolitan.

we cheered for every vehicle that drove past us, the occupants of the cars with windows down waving and laughing and thumbs-upping. it was a joy to see so many people in their bliss as they drove their vintage cars down our neighborhood roads. those metropolitans, though, they really got my attention. to see all those people – ranging a wide spectrum of ages – coming together in community – all for the love of these old cars – was something we were really glad we witnessed.

it made me think about the 1971 vw beetle in our garage. justin and i plan on reinvigorating that bug. we know it needs some restoration work now but between the two of us and youtube (with helpful hints from our brilliant mechanic) we just might be able to do it. thinking it would be a hoot for us to maybe end up at one of those vintage car shows one day or a beetle-meet. we likely won’t get a ribbon for fanciest but we will probably be eligible for “zealous” or “good effort”.

the whole thing brought me back to a time long ago when i used to be in parades with my dad and my big brother. my dad had a 1930 model A ford that he and my brother restored and we, with old-timey straw hats, would drive in parades just like this one. onlookers would line the sidewalks and cheer and we’d wave and call out to people to get their attention as we passed by. not unlike the drivers and passengers in the parade in our ‘hood. and, come to think about it, not unlike the teasels in the meadow.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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the most real. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

in the middle of the middle of the chaos that is this world right now, the thing that seemed the most real was last night’s pizza.

with a new pair of garden snippers, we went out to the potting stand and snipped off some fresh basil for our homemade pizza. the oven was preheating while we sous-chef-ed. we poured a glass of red wine and reveled in the cool breezes coming in from the back door and windows. we dined al fresco on the deck with plates of pizza, arugula spilling out of salad bowls and dogga at our feet. ohhh, what a day.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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