Lost Arts studio

A lot of the fiber arts I enjoy are things like tatting, netmaking, chair caning, and even weaving, where people will come up to me when I demonstrate and solemnly tell me, "That's a lost art."

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Location: SW Outer Nowhere, Michigan, United States

On the Internet, nobody knows you're a chicken. (With apologies to Peter Steiner.)

11 March 2007


Ah, yes, there is still a lot of snow in the cornfield, but the point is, you can see the stalks above the snow!

The snow melted enough on the south side of the house that Truffles could lie in the brown grass and sunbathe.

My parents have a black dog, too, and he also loves to lie in the sun. You'd think their little doggie brains would melt in their black furry heads, but both their dog and Truffles will stay in the sun a lot longer than Ajax will.

In the hot summer, I make her come in so she won't end up with heat stroke, but this early in the spring, I think she's safe.

I walked around to see what I could spot: one snow drop so far. I usually have a big clump of snowdrops, but I think that clump is a little further back under unmelted snow.

I could hear lots of birds -- suddenly everything is singing! Red-winged blackbirds, the cardinals, American tree sparrows, and a bluebird, which I could hear but couldn't spot.

It got up to a balmy 51 degrees F. today, and I was reminded to put in a maple tap. The hole started dripping before I could even get the drill bit out. My husband's carboys are spoken for, for next weekend when he plans to bottle the mead in the enormous wooden barrel still sitting in our geodesic dome room, so I had to scald an empty milk jug for sap.

After I got the tap in and satisfied myself that it was running through the tubing and not down the side of the tree, I walked around the yard and found some more flowers coming up.

The north side of our property, in front of where the original house was, slopes down to the drainage ditch and the road. Decades ago it was terraced with cinder blocks, chunks of concrete, and stones. Most of the terrace material is hidden by leaf mold and overgrown with plants. It is the last place for the snow to melt, and usually the last place daffodils bloom in the spring. (The green stalks coming up through the snow in the foreground are the daffodils.)

But the winter aconite in the background is not called "winter" for nothing -- here it is in bloom, despite the 8 degree cold snap only days ago. Some of it is even blooming under the grainy snow.

Spring is coming -- I might have to go and roll in it!

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Blogger Bells said...

I'm so glad to see all the spring flowers showing up. They're always a miracle. But I'll miss your winter photos. I've absolutely loved them these past few months!

Something to look forward to next year when I'm sweltering and you're freezing!

5:18 AM  
Blogger Alwen said...

Don't worry -- it's only March, and the odds are that winter will chomp us again a couple more times before spitting us out!

10:48 AM  

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