Blog

  • Rosy Maple Moth

    Rosy Maple Moth

    Several Rosy Maple Moth (Dryocampa rubicunda) specimens have visited Rosslyn in recent days, all gathering on the exterior of the mudroom door.

    Some years we see none; others we see many. Because the pre-metamorphosis Rosy Maple Moth larvae (aka greenstriped mapleworms) feed on maple and oak foliage, I suspect their population expansion and contraction corresponds to the health of our local trees. But, to complicate the equation, adult Rosy Maple Moth moths actually don’t eat (apparently they don’t even have mouths). Hhhmmm…

    Rosy Maple Moth, July 7, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Rosy Maple Moth, July 7, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Rosy Maple Moth

    As the photographs in this post clearly indicate, this is one moth that you won’t likely mistake for an imposter.

    Rosy maple moths are distinguishable by their incredible bright pink and yellow color and wooly body.

    (Source: Fact Animal)
    Rosy Maple Moth, May 29, 2020 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Rosy Maple Moth, May 29, 2020 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    In addition to the stand-out coloration, that foppish mop of furry fluorescent hair makes it difficult to miss these flashy friends. And yet, this curious camouflage may, in fact, serve to preserve the Rosy Maple Moth from predators. It is suspected that the bright coloration May actually deter hungry birds shopping for fast food.

    The predators of the rosy maple moth and larvae mostly consist of birds including blue jays, black-capped chickadees, and tufted titmice. The bright coloration of the wings may serve as a defense mechanism to trick predators into thinking they are poisonous and not edible. The colouration of this moth rather surprisingly acts as a form of camouflage, blending it in with maple seed cases.

    (Source: EOL)
    Rosy Maple Moth, May 29, 2020 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Rosy Maple Moth, May 29, 2020 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    And given the greenstriped mapleworm’s (Rosy Maple Moth larva) culinary cohabitation with maples, perhaps resembling maple seed cases is a handy way to evade hungry blue jays, etc.

    Caterpillar Hosts: Maple trees including red maple (Acer rubrum), sugar maple (A. saccharum), and silver maple (A. saccharinum); and oak trees including turkey oak (Quercus laevis).

    (Source: Butterflies and Moths of North America)
    Rosy Maple Moth, May 29, 2020 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Rosy Maple Moth, May 29, 2020 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    We certainly have plenty of sugar maples at Rosslyn, and perhaps our fortunate uptick in brilliant pink and yellow moths bodes well for the health of our maples? Hope so!

  • Finishing Floor & Staircase

    Finishing Floor & Staircase

    Finishing, not finished. Yet. But soon. I hope! The icehouse main floor and staircase are slinking slowly toward completion. Sashaying? No. Sauntering. Slowly sauntering. But at last I can say that we’re finishing the floor and the staircase in Rosslyn’s icehouse.

    Finishing Floor (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Finishing Floor (Photo: Geo Davis)

    We’ve been using Safecoat® Polyureseal BP to seal our hardwood floors for about twenty years. It’s an almost zero VOC alternative to conventional polyurethanes, and it performs really well. For the mixed species, ash and elm, variable with flooring we’re applying six coats with light, fine grit sanding in between coats. We’re not done yet, but the photo above captures the unique character of this homegrown, stump-to-floor hardwood, revealed and enhanced in no small part by the Polyureseal BP. Tony has been responsible for sealing all of the floors in the icehouse including the downstairs ash and elm, and the upstairs beach. Thanks, Tony. Almost done!

    Near the top edge of the photograph above, you can catch a glimpse of the last section of the staircase to be completed. Let’s take a closer look.

    Finishing Staircase (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Finishing Staircase (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Supi has recently finished installing the T&G nickel gap paneling. Glen has been following with the paint brush. And Peter is working on the trims, cabinet doors (left), and the bookshelf (right). Home stretch! Well, except for the railings and balusters…Back on February 14, 2023 I was assured by a cabinetry carpenter named Bernie that tackling the banister (+/-2 weeks) and staircase railings would be “a piece of pie”. Unfortunately it’s proven to be a very slooow pie preparation. Hopefully we’ll see the cabinets and railing soon.

  • Eastern Milksnake

    Eastern Milksnake

    This morning we spotted another nonvenomous Eastern Milksnake (Lampropeltis triangulum triangulum). While gathering limestone for the small stone walls that will delineate sloped flowerbeds behind Rosslyn’s icehouse, Tony discovered this youngster under a pile of rocks. Startled but gentle, this colorfully mottled snake seemed as perplexed by the two of us — and the tractor idling next to us — as we were intrigued with him/her.

    Tony with Eastern Milksnake (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Tony with Eastern Milksnake (Photo: Geo Davis)

    After a quick look, Tony tucked the snake into a cozy pile of wood chips to ensure its safety while we were operating the tractor nearby.

    Not only does today’s sighting firm up my confidence that the snake Pam spotted a few weeks ago was likewise an Eastern Milksnake, but it also reaffirms my suspicion that the much larger snake I spied in the rhubarb (and blogged about a looong time ago), was yet another.

    Judging by color and markings, the Y-pattern on its head, as well as the head and tail shapes, I’m pretty confident that this… [is an Eastern Milksnake.] (Source: Milksnake?)

    Tony with Eastern Milksnake (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Tony with Eastern Milksnake (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Almost fifteen years after that first rhubarb patch encounter with an unfamiliar snake, it’s exciting to be encountering and recognizing Eastern Milksnakes thriving on Rosslyn’s grounds. And it’s further evidence that our rewilding efforts in Rosslyn’s evolving wildlife sanctuary are enlivening a small stretch of the Adirondack Coast with wild neighbors.

  • Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain

    Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain

    This morning came early. Really, *REALLY* early. Yesterday was one of those days when damn near everything that could go wrong did go wrong. It was so hyperbolic that if it were a movie, nobody would have believed it. So by 5:38 o’clock this morning I’d been awake for a couple of hours. And I was rewarded with this disturbing (because of the Canadian wildfires) but spectacular smoky sunrise over Lake Champlain.

    Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain (Photo: Geo Davis)

    That photograph above captures most of the drama, but the burning orb ascending from Vermont’s Green Mountains was actually an even crazier color of fluorescent orangey pink. Surreal. And big. And super bright. The entire Champlain Valley was thick with mustard grey-brown haze. Yes, these smoky skies are courtesy of the hundreds of Canadian wildfires burning out of control. And, no, the uncanny twist of fate — we fled Santa Fe a year ago to escape the sooty pollution of out-of-control wildfires only yo be inunda with the same now in Essex, New York — isn’t lost on us. Crazy times.

    And yet, the upside of our Adirondack Coast choking on alarming high particulate counts for our typically pristine air is the sunrises and sunsets. They’ve been otherworldly.

    Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Smoky Sunrise Over Lake Champlain (Photo: Geo Davis)

    As this morning’s smoky sunrise yielded to the smoke, our environs looked as if a huge storm were overtaking us. But no, in the second photo above, you can see no storm. Just the long lingering aftermath of burning forests.

    If you’re moving picture inclined, you may enjoy the musical reel I shared on Instagram earlier today.

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/CuXeiXRAPpl/

    Today quickly shifted into unseasonably humid and scorching conditions which was challenging for everyone working on the icehouse rehab, but the smoke lifted, and this afternoon’s air quality is considerably improved.

  • Independence Day

    Independence Day

    I missed out on the fireworks last night. And the night before. And tonight I’ll be missing them yet again. On balance, some years we’re able to enjoy them on multiple nights because we celebrate the first, second, third, and Fourth of July in our neck of the woods. Or, as my late father-in-law used to say about his own birthday, we celebrate a birthday season. Why celebrate Independence Day when we can extend America’s birthday to Independence Days?!

    So, fireworks or not, I’d like to offer up a few mementos on Independence Days past. The photographs in this post were snapped between 2010 and 2016, making the most recent seven years old. It hardly seems possible! And yet the rituals remain largely unchanged, year-after-year, and that, my friends, is no not a negligible part of the charm.

    Independence Day​ 2011 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2011 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Independence Day Fireworks

    Although I may have missed the fireworks this year, here are a few reminders of booms and blasts, pyrotechnic palm trees and paisleys, aerial blooms from 2011 and 2016.

    Independence Day​ 2011 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2011 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Photographed — in all three cases, as I recall — from the lower deck at the Westport Yacht Club, these iPhone images are at best fuzzy fill-ins for the razzle-dazzle of my memory.

    Independence Day​ 2016 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2016 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    In this third photograph, a cluster of lights just below the black silhouetted horizon, is the Westport Marina. As a dock boy in the 1980s and 1990s, I remember looking toward the “old public beach“ as colorful mortars were launched in short succession, provoking ooohs and aaahs from boaters and Galley guests.

    Independence Day Parade

    Although the pomp and circumstance of Independence Day fireworks are inevitably the most dramatic symbol of our nation’s birthday commemoration, the every-other-year Essex parade is almost as popular.

    Independence Day​ 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Fortunately for us, the parade passes directly in front of Rosslyn, affording us front row seats.

    Independence Day​ 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    From boats and floats to horses and horsepower, it’s always fun to observe the pageantry.

    Independence Day​ 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Classic cars, tractors, and even an occasional unicycle roll past, tossing candy and tooting horns.

    Independence Day​ 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    As I flip through photographs, comparing the years, in struck by how often the same vehicles and the same smiling faces are present.

    Independence Day​ 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    And it’s not just muscle cars and nostalgic jalopies that commemorate the birth of our nation. Veterans remind us that the tribute we observe is and was a a patriotic path from nascent democracy to global superpower.

    Independence Day​ 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Gravitas notwithstanding, handsome vehicles like the one below, offer a wistful bridge to times of yore.

    Independence Day​ 2016 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Independence Day​ 2016 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    To everyone who organized and participated in our 2023 Independence Day festivities, thank you. It’s a privilege to witness the enthusiasm and merriment each July 4th. And July 3rd. And July 2nd. And July 1st… Happy Independence Day!

  • Tung Oiling Ash & Elm Table

    Tung Oiling Ash & Elm Table

    I’ve been keeping a little secret. And I’m not quite ready to spill the beans, not 100% at least. That will happen soon enough in a post chronicling the concept-through-construction of a mixed species (ash and elm) “bistro table” built by Ron Bauer this spring. Anticipation is half the pleasure! Until then, today’s post is a sneak peek into the process of tung oiling the ash and elm centerpiece of the main room.

    Given the diminutive scale of Rosslyn’s icehouse, each ingredient, design detail, furnishing, and decoration is important and demands intention. A single, small table designed in collaboration with Ron — with whom we’ve teamed up on multiple past projects, from hand turned bowls and custom cutting boards to tables, desks, and builtins — and impeccably crafted by Ron is now receiving 8 to 12 hand applied coats of tung oil, courtesy of Tony Foster.

    Tony Sanding Underside of Ash & Elm Table (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Tony Sanding Underside of Ash & Elm Table (Photo: Geo Davis)

    In the photo above Tony is sanding the table’s underside, skirt, joinery, and legs with ultra fine (1500 grit) sand paper to remove any hour joint irregularities, etc. And in the phot below he’s begun to hand rub (maybe massage is more accurate) the tung oil deep into the ash and elm grain, ensuring total coverage without over-applying, and working strictly with the grain direction.

    Tony Tung Oiling Ash & Elm Table (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Tony Tung Oiling Ash & Elm Table (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Comparing the middle underside and and breadboards to the legs, skirt, and near underside offers an accurate contrast between pre-oil and post-oil.

    Prior to diving in I double checked with my brother, Charlie. He’s a seasoned woodworker, and he’s never once lead me astray when it comes to appropriate joinery, finishing, etc. In this case I asked if my instinct to eschew linseed for tung oiling made sense to him.

    For the ash, definitely tung oil, I would think. Could even richen the color hues a little. Tung oil is pretty straightforward: the more coats, the better the finish. Wipe it on, wait until just tacky, and rub it off. Use plenty of cloths. And throw them in water when you’re done to avoid fire.

    [Linseed]… is less luminescent, by itself. Though if you cut it with mineral spirits and add a polyurethane, you get an oil-like finish with waterproof properties of poly… Linseed oil can discolor paler woods (like ash) making them yellow. — Charlie Davis

    It’s always reassuring to have his weigh-in, and the focus and determination that Tony’s bringing to this project inspire plenty of confidence.

    Tony Tung Oiling Ash & Elm Table (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Tony Tung Oiling Ash & Elm Table (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Get ready for the reveal… Soon!

  • Framing Rosslyn

    Framing Rosslyn

    No, it’s not my birthday. Yes, I realize that the image accompanying this post might be confusing. Sorry. Framing Rosslyn recollects a previous post celebrating friend and artist Catherine Seidenberg while marking a rewarding step forward toward furnishing and decorating Rosslyn’s icehouse.

    Framing Rosslyn (Artwork: Catherine Seidenberg; Photo: Geo Davis)
    Framing Rosslyn (Artwork: Catherine Seidenberg; Photo: Geo Davis)

    As icehouse rehab winds toward the finish line, I’ve been able to begin shifting from construction mode to decorating mode, finally choosing some of the artwork and artifacts that will be joining me in the icehouse soon. Eith the help of my bride and Nico Sardet at Furchgott Sourdiffe Gallery in Shelburne I’ve started to finalize some new framing including this handsome birthday gift from Catherine back in 2016. This remarkable rendering will make its next appearance once framing is complete and it’s hanging in the soon-to-be completely rehabilitated icehouse. Mark. My. Words. (Especially “soon”!)

    Custom framing at Furchgott Sourdiffe Gallery means experienced service and attention to detail… [and] extensive design services combined with expert craftsmanship… Archival materials and techniques are used to guarantee preservation of your artwork. (Source: Furchgott Sourdiffe Gallery )

    The *Other* Framing

    Although the impetus for this post is gratitude for a gift from Catherine and gratitude to Susan and Nico for helping me consider the most suitable frames for the icehouse artwork, I’m also drawn the idea of framing a home. Not just a painting of a home, but the property itself.

    I’ve reflected elsewhere on the ways that windows and doors frame exterior views, and even the way that the porosity within a building can frame elements of the interior environment. Perhaps I’m a little obsessive with the ways that hearts become a hole. And the ways that we experience those parts and that whole…

    Some years ago when we developed our plans for an historically inspired fence and when we then presented the proposal to the Essex planning board, I tried to convey this notion of framing. The fence, running between the north and south property lines, parallel to the sidewalk and road, and parallel to Lake Champlain, helped define and delineate Rosslyn. Not as a home, but as a property. A collection of four buildings that are related to one another. A cohesive and integrated tableau writ large.

    The desire to explore the interrelatedness of these historic buildings through stonewalls and landscaping has been one of the most enjoyable endeavors over the last seventeen years. A slow motion sculpting of Rosslyn’s almost 70 acres into an aesthetically and functionally appealing program, discrete elements coalescing into a logical and well integrated experience. The relationships between the discreet parts — in some cases fixed in brick and mortar, in other cases evolving gradually with experimentation, maturation of flora, and the patina-ing and aging of the built environment — continue to meld with revision and the passage of time. Editing and reevaluating help distill the successful initiatives from this best abandoned. And little by little relationships develop, an affinity emerges. A wholeness, set apart from surroundings. Or so I conceive as, little by little, we strive to frame Rosslyn…

  • Chilled Dairy Free Broccoli Soup

    Chilled Dairy Free Broccoli Soup

    It’s been a hot and steamy Independence Day weekend so far. When we entertained family last night I wanted to prepare something light and garden-fresh to transition into dinner. With the first crop of our Brassica oleracea var. italica succession crop ready to eat, we opted for a chilled dairy free broccoli soup.

    Chilled Dairy Free Broccoli Soup​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Chilled Dairy Free Broccoli Soup​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Let’s begin at the beginning. We grow several varieties of broccoli (Brassica oleracea var. italica) under row covers in 2-3 succession plantings (and/or transplanting) to ensure vibrant, pest free, flavor and nutrient rich abundance. So. Much. Green.

    Broccoli in the Garden​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Broccoli in the Garden​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    For steaming and eating hot, chopping into crudités and enjoying cold with hummus or dip, juicing into ultra-green magic potion, and puréeing into a refreshing summer soup, broccoli is one of our vegetable garden all stars.

    Harvesting Homegrown Broccoli​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Harvesting Homegrown Broccoli​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Green perfection! The massive organic broccoli florets in the photo above overshadow the diminutive cluster of hammocks in the distance. I enjoy the contrast (and the rightful reign of this nutrition superhero!)

    Broccoli, Radishes, and Summer Squash​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Broccoli, Radishes, and Summer Squash​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    In the photo above a pair of colorful companions (radishes for crudités and yellow summer squash to be thinly sliced on the mandolin and mixed into a green bean salad with vinaigrette), harvested during the same veggie garden excursion, are washed and standing by. Technicolor flavor bombs ready for action!

    Garlic Scapes, and Spring Onions, and Broccoli​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Garlic Scapes, and Spring Onions, and Broccoli​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    And speaking of flavor, there are a pair of hidden-but-not-secret ingredients with which I complemented this chilled dairy free broccoli soup. Garlic scapes and spring onions from our Full and By Farm share, sautéed in olive oil to soften the fibers and release the savory deliciousness were then tossed into a blender and puréed. Liquified, really, to ensure it mixes with the steamed and puréed broccoli and the boiled and puréed potatoes.

    Sautéing Garlic Scapes and Spring Onions​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Sautéing Garlic Scapes and Spring Onions​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    What do I miss. Ah, right, the dairy free twist. Obviously sautéing in olive oil rather than butter is the first step, and then thinning the blended soup with a non-dairy alternative. My go-to would be unsweetened (and no vanilla) macadamia milk, which would’ve worked perfectly in the soup. But we had none, so I substituted an unsweetened, vanilla-free almond milk. And it worked out pretty well!

    A fair amount of chilling is key to develop and meld the flavors, so I moved the pot into the fridge for a little R&R. Once chilled, I whisked and seasoned the chilled dairy free broccoli soup with some lemon juice, celery, salt, and white pepper. Tada! So refreshing.

  • Garapa Door

    Garapa Door

    For such a small scope of work, the icehouse rehabilitation has included some remarkably creative one-offs. The garapa door is one such project: a challenging initiative to upcycle reclaimed garapa decking from Rosslyn’s house deck into a minimalist mechanical room door perfectly camouflaged into tbe bathroom walls.

    Today I can report that it’s been a triumph!

    Garapa Door​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Garapa Door​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Dramatic lighting sure brings the oiled garapa to life! Amber grained, horizontal continuity, just barely framed, an intriguing section of the wall that will allow discrete access to the mechanicals. Polished nickel hinges and passage set, but nominal attention drawing exception to the otherwise seamless expanse of repurposed garapa.

    Garapa Door​ (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Garapa Door​ (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    I’ll update with a photo once the rest of the hardware is installed…

  • First Forays in Vermont Dory

    First Forays in Vermont Dory

    This post began as “Maiden Voyages in Vermont Dory”, but the title struck me as somewhat tone deaf at a time when we endeavor to sidestep gender sloppiness. Especially since I’m not a maiden. Nor a bachelor. Nor, frankly, does gender matter at all. And so, “First Forays in Vermont Dory” was born. Better. But now I’m realizing that “foray” borrows unnecessarily from the bellicose verbiage of our day… Busy brain!

    And this — busyness of the brain — is actually the pithy point of this post.

    First Forays in Vermont Dory (Photo: Geo Davis)
    First Forays in Vermont Dory (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Yesterday morning and this morning mark my much anticipated transition into rowing. First forays in my newly acquired Vermont dory, a still half baked but enthusiastic embrace of early morning (and early evening) rowing as a counterpoint to my bike rides. More on this rowing and riding balance in a moment, but first a little context.

    I’ve been lusting after an Adirondack Guideboat, well, probably since the late 1970’s when I enjoyed my first rowed ride in this quintessentially ADK conveyance at the Ausable Club. During the early days of the pandemic my mind returned this timeless watercraft, as elegant today as it was in the 1800s, and somehow inviting wistfuldaydreams of calmer, simpler times. I connected with the good folks at Adirondack Guideboat, and began to educate myself. They tried to convince me that a 14′ Vermont Dory, their most popular boat, was better suited to my location. Three summers later, after a 2022 return visit to revisit consideration with brother owners, Justin and Ian Martin, I decided it was time to commit.

    That green beauty above is my new skiff, a cherry trimmed Kevlar Vermont dory perfectly suited to ply the early morning and early evening waters of Lake Champlain.

    (Source: Adirondack Guideboat or Vermont Dory)

    And what fun it is!

    Yes, rowing is core and upper body exercise, both having been too long neglected by me. Biking in warmer months and skiing in colder months keep the bottom half of my body in decent shape. But it turns out that plunking keys on a keyboard do little good and plenty of bad for the body. I’m hoping that mixing it up between the dory and the bike might begin to get my upper and lower del es back in sync. Rowing my way towards a healthier body.

    But that’s only part of the package. Remember, mens sana in corpore sano. A healthy mind and a healthy body. So resyncing the bod via two oars and a green dory would be good. Resyncing the mind *AND* bod? Genius!

    And this brings me back to busy brain. I’ve long understood that an angsty mind — ants in my gray matter?! — is a deficit worth addressing. But understanding it and resolving it are two different things.

    To be sure, exercise in general is helpful for me. Direct the excess energy into motion, and the body feels better. I think better. I sleep better. I husband better.

    Our recent 2-week walkabout reminded me how paddling (and hopefully rowing) settles the cerebrum and cerebellum. Oar-sports lend themselves to mindfulness. For me, at least. Physical but repetitive. Meditative, at least in the settings and conditions that appeal to me.

    So I’m throwing myself into the arms of a 14’ dory and a pair of oars. Both trimmed in cherry. Both as handsome as they are nimble and water worthy.

    Thank you, Adirondack Guideboat. I look forward to this rowing life.

  • Rain Drenched Orchard

    Rain Drenched Orchard

    To say that it’s been soggy lately would usher restraint and understatement into new chapters. Yesterday’s super saturating deluge came on the heels of day-after-day drizzles and downpours. This evening’s rain drenched orchard snapshots hint at some pros and cons of rain, rain, rain,…

    Rain Drenched Orchard (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Rain Drenched Orchard (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Let’s start with the lush tree foliage and grass. The verdant canopies and remarkable new growth. The ubiquitous green!

    No drought here, ladies and gentlemen.

    On the contrary, the ground is spongy. Practically boggy. And some vegetable plants in the garden are even slightly anemic, healthy green paling to a sickly yellow-green from wet roots.

    Rain Drenched Orchard (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Rain Drenched Orchard (Photo: Geo Davis)

    The rain drenched orchard nevertheless appears healthy. Lots of baby apples promise a robust harvest in 2-3 months. Unfortunately two applications of kaolin clay — part of our holistic orcharding regimen — have been rinsed off, leaving fruit and leaves vulnerable to pests. As soon as the rain abates for a stretch we’ll apply s third coat.

  • First Poppies of Summer

    First Poppies of Summer

    Yesterday’s nod to Hemerocallis Fulva, notwithstanding, my floral fondness for Papavers is an open secret. Who am I kidding? It’s no secret at all! So I brimmed with jubilation when Pam surprised me today, with our first poppies of summer. I was euphoric!

    Pam Offering the First Poppies of Summer (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Pam Offering the First Poppies of Summer (Photo: Geo Davis)

    And so a spontaneous haiku was born…

    Summer’s First Poppies

    Summer’s first poppies:
    petite preemies, delicate,
    fuzzy, threadlike stems.

    Perfection at quarter scale. Stems almost too slight to support the floppy blooms. Vulnerable. Durable. Both.

    First Poppies of Summer (Photo: Geo Davis)
    First Poppies of Summer (Photo: Geo Davis)

    I remember a previous pensé on poppies and haiku. It perfectly applies to these first poppies of summer.

    Almost ephemeral brevity, stark minimalism, and — at best — a tingly eureka moment overlap haiku’s distinctive hallmark. Delicate. Vigorous. As unlikely a juxtaposition as poppies. Exuding a fragility and sparseness, but remarkably robust and resilient, the poppy is the haiku of flowers… (Source: Poppy Poems)

    Poppies. Haiku. Perhaps they’re cousins?