Midsummer's Dreaming

High summer. Although I could do without the mosquitoes and high humidity, this is really my favorite time of year. On sunny days, dog-day cicadas hum in the trees from noon until dusk. On cloudy days, gray tree frogs take over the chorus. Usually by this time of the season, the grass has turned brown and crunches underfoot, but this year we have had more than our share of rain, leaving everything green and lush.

There is a certain smell in the air now, especially at night. The trees are long past the blossoming stage, their flowers withered and blown away, and a new fragrance wafts through the yards. It's the smell of skunk cabbage and cut grass, vegetable gardens and clean sheets hung on backyard clotheslines. It is the fragrance of ferns, mushrooms and muddy riverbanks. It's the warm smell of summer in the Northeast.

Birds and dragonflies dart in crazy trajectories through the airspace of Catbird Heaven, and cottontail bunnies graze in the late afternoon on the clover and dandelions, while tufts of lacey, white cloud drift lazily across a deep blue sky.

Often, if I have a few free hours, I go for a short drive to my parent's house and I float on my back for a while in their small, crystal-clear pool, staring up at the branches of the oak trees that surround it. I watch the birds play tag among the green leaves, which are gilded by the mid-afternoon sunlight, and I admire the dappled patterns of light that dance on the water.

Last night, the full "Sturgeon" moon glowed pink as it hung low in the hazy sky. Snow crickets trill in the gardens after dark, and Rigby washes her feet in the dew that soaks the lawn at night and lingers into the morning.

I'm trying to take a little time every day and drink my fill of this season; to breathe it in and let it become part of me, so it will never leave.
I know that in the cold, dark heart of January, it will be nothing but a sweet and distant memory.

Life On The Beach

Of course, my favorite part of island life is the beach. Here are some photos from my time spent on Scotch Beach during my trip to Manisses. You can click to enlarge for a better look.










Next: the harbors.

Island Time

I've been in heaven for the past few days. I took the ferry twelve nautical miles across Narragansett Bay and landed on Manisses: island of the little god; better known these days as Block Island.

Back here on the mainland, dark clouds, rain and lightning have been the order of the day, weatherwise. But the Block exists in a micro-climate(only one of the many wonderful, magical things that define it)and from Thursday through Sunday, the sun bathed the powder-white beaches with heat and a sweet, glorious sea-breeze stirred the field grass in the green pastures that dot the island, surrounded by ancient cobblestone walls.

Although Independence Day weekend is certainly not the best time to go (I feared the village of Old Harbor might sink from the weight of humanity on Saturday, July 4th), opportunity knocked in the form of a generous invitation from my beloved sister and brother-in-law, and I never say no to island time. Luckily, the pretty home they had rented was a few, precious miles outside of town, in a much less populated area, away from the rowdy bars and the buzzing mopeds.

I'm preparing a photo collection and I will post it as soon as I catch up on my laundry and address some other real-life issues, now that I'm back here on earth. Stay tuned.

Catbird Heaven

Summer has come to our corner of New England. We are lucky enough to have full access to almost one acre of green lawn, which Mac maintains. This yard is ringed with trees and bushes, many of which, we have planted ourselves, over the twenty nine years we've resided here. It is a haven for song birds, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, wild turkeys and even the occasional deer and coyote.

I call the yard; "Catbird Heaven", because we have several Gray Catbirds that live in the bushes at the margins of the yard. On a sunny day, the air is filled with the sounds of their mewing, whistling and chattering. The musical, sing-song calls, that they intersperse with harsh, raspy, squeaking phrases can be heard all summer long in the little green world just outside our door.

Now, in early June, tiny, white, wild roses are sprawling over the raspberry bushes and small evergreen trees at the edges of the yard. Bittersweet vines wrap around poplars, as they climb toward the sun and Virginia creeper crawls over the field grass. Tiny, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, the smallest birds in these parts, except for the Ruby-throated hummingbird, ply the grass for insects. Male Cardinals and Robins battle for turf rights. American Goldfinches soar and dip on their flight paths over the yard, from the bird bath to the top of a maple tree. A pair of Garter snakes bask in the early morning sunlight near the barn doorstep, before starting off on their daily hunt. Chipmunks scurry from rock to garden, trying to avoid the gaze of my dog Rigby, as she surveys the landscape.

It's just another day in paradise...just a sunny Tuesday here in Catbird Heaven.