Tag: Labrador Retriever

Mary Wade’s Rosslyn Art

Rosslyn, Essex on Lake Champlain (Painted by Mary Wade)

My bride refers to herself as “Mama” to our Labrador Retriever, Griffin. It’s always struck me as a bit goofy, preferring, I suppose, to think of myself as my dog’s master. Though anyone familiar with our little family of three would hastily remind me that I might have that backwards, as Griffin clearly rules the proverbial Rosslyn roost.

I kid Susan that her childfree stance belies latent maternal instincts which she channels into her canine progeny. (N.B. While you might initially balk at this, detecting an underhanded jab, you can rest assured that Susan is quite comfortable with — even proud of — her “Dog Mama” status. And any implication that I’m married to a metaphorical dog, well, let me just suggest that the quick glimpse of my dazzling damsel in the video below will handily refute any concerns. After eleven years she still knocks my socks off!)

So where were we?

Mother’s Day.

Despite endlessly kidding Susan for mothering Griffin (Perhaps over-mothering?), I actually find it endearing. And our almond-eyed-butterscotch-furred best friend is thoroughly content with the arrangement.

“Hello, my love bug. Mama missed you,” Susan greets Griffin when he races up to meet her at the end of the day. His tail wags excitedly and he stretches his head upward, offering a nice slobbery kiss. “How did Mama get such a drooly boy?” she asks playfully as she wipes off her nose and cheek.

This year, I decided it was time to accept my bride’s dog mother instinct. No, I decided it was time to embrace it with a surprise gift or two. And the perfect gift? A symbol of our family, our home.

Rosslyn’s boathouse (Artwork by Mary Wade)

Each winter Essex residents celebrate the holidays early during a weekend-long event called Christmas in Essex. It was this tradition which connected me to Mary Wade, a folk artist who lives in Willsboro but runs a seasonal gallery in Essex each summer. She creates painted wooden models, silhouettes, and paintings of historic buildings in Essex that are collected by her fans all around the world.

Although I’d visited her shop in the past, it wasn’t until last December (when Mrs. Wade was offering her artwork for sale during the Christmas in Essex event) that we discussed her Rosslyn inspired artwork. I spotted a painting of Rosslyn’s boathouse adorning a wooden box (see image) and asked her if she could make a birdhouse modeled on the same structure.

“I think so,” she said, considering. “I could do that.”

“What about a painting of Rosslyn?”

“Oh, sure. I’ve done that plenty of times, you know, all the Merchant Row houses.”

As soon as my bride was safely out of earshot, we began to conspire. Could she undertake *both* projects this winter? She could. And much more!

Last week I met her at home where she unveiled these whimsical renditions of Rosslyn and Rosslyn’s boathouse. The small painted silhouettes of the the boathouse were a bonus, unanticipated when we made our plan last December. She had gotten the idea while creating the birdhouse, and she liked it so much that she decided to make almost a dozen to share with her other collectors.

I suspected that the birdhouse would prove too valuable to allow it to fulfill its intended use, and Susan promptly confirmed my suspicions.

“What a perfect centerpiece!” she exclaimed arranging the miniature copy of Rosslyn’s boathouse in the center of our deck table to test out her theory. It was a great idea.

The beautiful painting of Rosslyn will likely be hung in the morning room where a growing collection of artist renderings of the quirky Eastlake inspired dockhouse adorn the walls. And for now, the silhouetted boathouse is in the screen porch. Until I convince her that it would be fun to have in the boathouse…

May 15, 2012
Rosslyn Featured in Old House Journal

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 1-2)

Exactly three years ago on June 3, 2015, Old House Journal published an article about Rosslyn. Time for a flashback! Regina Cole’s story and Carolyn Bates’s photographs are entitled, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, and you can find their original article here. (Note: the print edition and the online edition differ slightly.)

If you’re unfamiliar with Old House Journal, — and if you’re renovating or rehabilitating an older home — I recommend both the print magazine and the online website and resources.

This site is the ultimate resource for owners of old houses and period-style homes, gathering information from Old-House Journal, Old-House Interiors, Early Homes, and New Old House. You’ll find inspiration, how-to info and advice, stories and photos of old houses galore and sources for traditional products. Whether you’re restoring your old house or searching for period decor, you’ll find help here. (Source: Old-House Online)

An Insider’s Glimpse

It’s worth noting that the article fumbles a few points here and there, but the gist is mostly on target. And the photographs are amazing!

Like many owners of important old houses, this couple never intended to become stewards of a 2½-storey neoclassical manse that spreads over more than 6,000 square feet. The building was originally just a three-bay, side-hall dwelling, but Rosslyn was expanded between 1835 and 1840 into its symmetrical five-bay configuration. Other buildings on the grounds include several barns and a very adorable, Eastlake-style boathouse added in 1898. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)

Eek! Adorable? Though my bride and I fell head over heels in love with the Rosslyn’s boathouse (really a “dock house” more than a boathouse) long before we succumbed to the home’s beguiling pull, neither of us would likely describe the quirky lakeside structure as adorable. Too cute, me thinks, for this weathered folly. But I’ll leave that judgment up to you.

A significant rear wing had been added to Rosslyn in the 19th century for domestic services—a kitchen and pantry, etc.—and servants’ quarters. Early in the 20th century, when the house became a hostelry called The Sherwood Inn, that service wing was renovated to accommodate guest lodging, a restaurant, and a tavern. When the inn ceased operation by the early 1960s, most of the rear wing was removed.

George and Susan used its remnant to create a large new family room. For symmetry and better flow, they also added two new wings, one to house a screened porch and one to create circulation between old rooms and new. The boathouse, of course, was a later addition, but its late Victorian style is so charming, they never considered removing it. It has been restored inside and out.

[…]

The front of the house is historic, but the rear had undergone numerous additions and subtractions over the years. George and Susan updated the rear with sensitive additions and a patio surrounded by a stone wall. George rebuilt the old stone walls that surround the property. They built a new fence, basing its design on one found in a Federal pattern book. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)

Mostly accurate, except I’ll humbly concede credit to others for the handsome stone walls. I did design/redesign/adapt them and figure out how to repurpose old stone salvaged from failed walls and long buried foundations, but virtually all of the heavy lifting was done by others. And we remain extremely grateful for it!

Okay, enough revisionism… On to the article.

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 3-4)

The opening spread showcases one of the handsome entrance gates designed and built by our friend, Tom Duca. And that interior shot of the front entrance door with side lites and fan lite? That challenging project was meticulously executed by Kevin Boyle.

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 5-6)

The front parlor and the dining room offer pigmented nostalgia bridges.

The pea green paint in the parlor is a nod to the previous owner whose paint choice perplexed us at first, but grew on us gradually, imperceptibly during our endless renovation. My bride elected to preserve and refresh it while I was away. It was the perfect choice.

And the light blue walls in the dining room recollect the dining room in Maison Margaux, a top-to-bottom renovation I shepherded in Paris’ Faubourg St. Germain.

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 7-8)

The kitchen and morning room (aka “the north porch”) are principle phases of our daily orbit. No finer way to start the day that breakfasting with songbirds!

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 9-10)

Griffin, our Labrador Retriever, is the perennially proud protector of Rosslyn in general and our bedroom in particular. From his perch at the end of the bed he can monitor the deer and wild turkeys sneaking snacks from his vegetable garden and orchard. I suppose “protector” might be a mild overstatement.

SaveSave

June 3, 2018
Reawakening Rosslyn

“Rather than trying to coerce the house to do something new, we tried to reawaken it.” (New England Home)

In “Taking the Long View” Paula M. Bodah refers to the renovation of a Victorian house near Boston, Massachusetts in unusually anthropomorphic terms. Reawaken? Since when do houses sleep?

Despite the unfamiliar reference, Bodah’s terminology is precise, accurate and familiar. In the case of Rosslyn, reawakening is precisely how I too describe our renovation process, though I didn’t understand this at the outset.

One of the joys of homeownership lies in expressing ourselves through our surroundings… Most of us can hardly wait to put our personal stamp on our living spaces. It is, after all, part of the process of turning a house into a home. (New England Home)

While “turning a house into a home” is a topic for a future post, and although I’ve frequently joked that no detail of Rosslyn’s rehabilitation escaped our fingerprints, much attention was paid throughout to preserving the buildings’ unique heritage. My bride and I were far less preoccupied with our own personal stamp than we were with finding Rosslyn’s personal stamp, her DNA, and reawakening it to guide our renovation.

In fact, I wanted to move into Rosslyn after six months — after the most critical infrastructure had been upgraded — so that I could discover the house by living in it. I wanted to understand Rosslyn from the inside out. Remember my coffee-in-the-morning pipe dream? My bride thought I was crazy at the time, willfully opting living in a full-scale renovation project. No doubt here judgment was sound, but it turns out my instinct wasn’t so unusual after all.

The couple who bought this Boston-area Victorian [described above]… lived in their house for a full year, noting how they used the space and how the light flowed (or didn’t), thinking, planning and discussing before undertaking any serious renovating or redecorating. (New England Home)

There’s a certain intimacy, a depth of familiarity and knowledge, that is only possible when you live in a house. When you fall asleep listening to its sighs and creeks mingling with the soft breathing of your bride and dog. When you wake up and navigate your way to the bathroom in the dark in the middle of the night. When an avalanche of snow slides off the roof, startling you early in the morning. When you wake up but stay in bed with your still sleeping bride because the room’s so cold, the comforter is so warm, and you can’t imagine feeling this cozy ever again. When Griffin, your Labrador Retriever, licks your cheek and stares at you pleadingly so that you slide into your robe and slippers and shuffle down the staircase to take him outside for a crack-o-dawn potty break. When you crack a pair of eggs into a sizzling skillet next to the popping bacon and wait for the house to smell like Sunday morning. When the ferry boat landing at the nearby ferry dock vibrates the house. When you step out of the shower onto the worn floorboards. When you inhale a nostril-full of moist brick after a summer rain. When you gather family together for a celebratory meal in the dining room with the smell of crackling fire mingling with the the aroma of roast turkey and pumpkin soup…

These are the caresses and whispers that you miss when you renovate a house from without, when diagrams and computer-assisted drawings and conversations are the only firsthand contact you’ve experienced with the environment that will nurture and protect and inspire you for many years to come.

Several years of interior design school underpinned my bride’s confidence that living in a home to understand it was unnecessary, that carefully calibrated (and much debated) drawings were more than adequate to understand the best orientations for bathrooms and kitchens and beds and desks. She was comfortable forging ahead.

I was not. I wanted to touch and smell and hear Rosslyn in order to understand her. I agreed with my bride that it was critical to renovate our home according to the needs of our own lifestyle, but I wanted to ensure that we weren’t imposing our own will haphazardly onto those of the house.

Perhaps this sounds contrived? Perhaps it hints of New Age-y pseudo philosophical blather? I don’t fully disagree. But it’s an honest accounting of our differences as we plunged into Rosslyn’s renovation.

For a long time I struggled to admit to myself, much less to my bride, that I considered it arrogant to impose our dreams upon Rosslyn without first trying to understand her dreams. I was obsessed with reawakening and listening to the old house, trying to hear what she was trying to tell us.

At first we strained to hear, and then it became easier. Her stories, her dreams flowed, and before long we lost the ability to mute Rosslyn. We were inundated with her past and her hopes for the future. Before long it grew virtually impossible to distinguish between Rosslyn’s will and our own.

And so the scope of our project mushroom and the timeline extended. And mushroomed. And extended. We joked that we had been kidnapped by Rosslyn, and in a sense we had.

May 1, 2012
Opossum O’Clock
You’ve heard of happy hour. And maybe even beer blogging. But opossum o’clock?

Carley *Prior* to Opossum O’Clock (Photo: Geo Davis)

Earlier this evening (or late this afternoon, if you’re still jet lagging from the standard time to daylight savings time adjustment,) Carley burst into a barking frenzy. Bark, bark, bark,… Not an excited “My momma’s home!” bark. Nor an “I need to pee” bark. It was an unmistakable alarm bark.

So I extracted myself from my desk chair and headed down to the sunporch where she’s taken to snoozing, tucked between pillows on the sofa, most days lately.

But she wasn’t on the sofa. She was alert at the glass doors, pointing, hackles high. All business.

So I followed her gaze to the stonewall around the back deck where a fat opossum was waddling. Carley was incensed. Why wouldn’t I let her out? She wanted to show that overgrown rat who was boss around here!

The opossum finally made her/his way up and over the snow bank, across the driveway, and then began an ungainly exit toward the hemlock hedge. At least until Carley seemed less threatening at which point the opossum made a 90° turn to the right and began waddling down toward the bird feeders hanging under the ginkgo tree.

Opossum, Oh, Possum

What to make of these quirky characters that have become commonplace in the Adirondacks despite the fact that I never saw one in this area in the 1970s and 1980s when I was growing up. Are they even native?

I turned to ChatGPT, the chatbot causing such a stir lately, to see what light it might shed (or make up).

Yes, the opossum is native to North America. In fact, it is the only marsupial that is native to the continent. Opossums can be found throughout much of the United States and Mexico, as well as parts of Central America and Canada. They are known for their distinctive appearance, including their long snout, hairless tail, and opposable thumbs on their hind feet. Opossums are also well-known for their ability to “play dead” when threatened, which is actually a defensive mechanism called thanatosis. (Source: Source: ChatGPT)

Not 100% sure that’s all tip-top information given the rather dubious ChatGPT answer that was shared with me earlier today by David Howson. (More on that tomorrow perhaps?) Let’s see what Wikipedia contributors believe about the opossum.

Opossums (/əˈpɒsəm/) are members of the marsupial order Didelphimorphia (/daɪˌdɛlfɪˈmɔːrfiə/) endemic to the Americas. The largest order of marsupials in the Western Hemisphere, it comprises 93 species in 18 genera. Opossums originated in South America and entered North America in the Great American Interchange following the connection of North and South America.

The Virginia opossum is the only species found in the United States and Canada. It is often simply referred to as an opossum, and in North America it is commonly referred to as a possum (/ˈpɒsəm/; sometimes rendered as ‘possum in written form to indicate the dropped “o”). Possums should not be confused with the Australasian arboreal marsupials of suborder Phalangeriformes that are also called possums because of their resemblance to the Didelphimorphia. The opossum is typically a nonaggressive animal. (Source: Wikipedia)

Seems like there’s enough overlap to set us straight (and enough Australasian unclarity to invite confusion?)

Let’s turn instead to a far more reliable source, poetry.

Opossum Poem
```
Oh, possum, opossum,
our springtime may have come;
narcissus nudging up,
snow melting into mud.

Perhaps prehensile tail,
opposable thumbs, and
dying art theatrics
have inured you to threats.

Or perhaps you're aware
that my Labrador's barks
are booming bluster not
cause for canine concern.

But beware, snouty snoop,
that winter's not finished,
and precocious parades
hint-hinting at hubris

may well invite frigid
flashbacks, hail, blizzards, and
temperate day delays
with bites bigger than barks.
```
Playing Opossum

[Witnessing the curious creature investigating our deck and yard, I’m transported back to another opossum memory, this one from December 23, 2008 during our early days living at Rosslyn with Griffin, our Labrador prior to Carley.]

Saturday morning and we’re sitting in the morning room eating waffles in our bathrobes and slippers. We’ve slept in, lazed around, made breakfast, and lingered over the ritual of starting our day.

It snowed last night. Not much, but just enough to cover everything. Maybe an inch. Wet snow. Like white frosting coating everything.

Suddenly I’m aware that a critter is making its way across the front lawn toward us. Actually Griffin realized it, stood up from his bed abruptly and pointed, hair on his back standing straight up, low rumbling half barks alternating with half threatening, half excited glances at us then back at the animal. Like a huge rat. Wet from the soggy snow. Dragging itself across the grass, then across the gravel driveway, then across the grass between the driveway and the house. He was coming right toward us and Griffin was not sure whether to be protective or excited.

“An opossum,” Susan and I both said at the same time.

“I’ve never seen one here,” I said.

“Me either,” Susan said.

“Looks like he’s headed for the trash bins,” I reasoned and picked up my Blackberry from the table. “I want to go take a picture.”

“Don’t go out there.”

“Why not?”

“He could bite you. They’re mean.”

“I won’t get that close. Just a quick picture then I’ll be back in.”

The opossum had managed to pull himself up the stone step to the deck and was waddling past the sliding doors of the garbage and recycling shed toward the back deck.

I opened the door and headed outside in my bathrobe and slippers to get a closer look and a photo.

And then, as if Susan had cast a spell upon me, totally wipe out.

I fell on my back, head bouncing off the deck, limbs splayed to the from corners, bathrobe wide open, buck naked, looking up at the sky. And at a freaked out opossum literally a foot from my face, chattering his teeth menacingly.

Susan was laughing, Griffin was barking wildly inside, I was stunned, and the opossum was presiding.

“Why isn’t he playing dead,” I asked.

“Why should he? You already are?”
March 13, 2023
Friend or Foe: Eastern Coyote
Eastern Coyote (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

The Eastern Coyote (Canis latrans var) is an omnipresent wild neighbor at Rosslyn. The tracks, the songs, and the holistic balance that the Eastern Coyote brings to our +/-70 acres are an everyday reminder that the wildway is healthy and that wild flora and fauna are thriving in our small slice of the Adirondack Coast.

Although I won’t pretend to present the most current science about a topic that is enjoying diverse debate among scholars and researchers far more learned than I, my understanding is that the eastern coyote which frequents our fields and forests is a relatively new hybrid (aka crossbreed) between coyotes, wolves, and domestic dogs.

“Eastern Coyotes are the largest wild canid in the Adirondack Park. They look something like a small German Shepherd Dog, with thick fur, bushy tails tipped with black, and large erect ears. Our Adirondack coyotes tend to be orange-gray or grayish brown above with paler underparts. The front surfaces of the lower legs are black, while the outsides of the legs are tan or rufous. The eyes are yellowish, with round pupils.” (Source: Wild Adirondacks)

In my firsthand anecdotal experience, the Eastern Coyotes we witness on our property are consistently larger than the coyotes we see on our property in Santa Fe, New Mexico. They are robust, confident, and healthy. While they’ve never threatened or even remotely intimidated us (or our dogs), I have more than once witnessed their curiosity. On the rare occasion when I’ve startled one on foot, it has fades into the forest almost immediately. But a couple of times I’ve come across a solitary Eastern Coyote while brush hogging, and it has lingered close enough to keep an eye on me, not so much following the tractor as keeping a wary distance but studying me. The experience has each time felt like a gift, a rare opportunity to observe this handsome canid up close without its immediate instinct to retreat.

This post, the latest installment in my friend or foe series, will endeavor to demystify Canis latrans var.

Eastern Coyote Family & Territory

A similar gift has been received on multiple occasions when we listen to coyotes yipping, calling, and howling. Often the voices merge from multiple directions, eventually gathering into a vast chorus. It can sound as if dozens of coyotes are fêting (and feasting) just beyond the veil of darkness, though I’m aware that the numbers are likely much fewer.

“The Eastern coyote does not form a true ‘pack’ with multiple adults living together like their relative the wolf. Instead they are organized as a ‘family unit’. Each family unit is made up of the adult pair and their pups from the current year. A family unit will defend a territory of 2 to 15 square miles against other coyotes. It is the territorial behavior of coyotes that limits their numbers in any one area.” (Source: NYS Dept. of Environmental Conservation)

In other words, the Eastern Coyote is an effective community organizer, dispersing its population according to the sustainability of the region within which it resides. And a healthy Eastern Coyote population significantly benefits the trophic dynamics within our broader community. Nevertheless, these charismatic canids are often misunderstood and persecuted. Efforts to extirpate coyotes are not only inhumane, they are also ineffective due to compensatory reproduction.

“Research suggests that when aggressively controlled, coyotes can increase their reproductive rate by breeding at an earlier age and having larger litters, with a higher survival rate among the young. This allows coyote populations to quickly bounce back, even when as much as 70 percent of their numbers are removed.” (Source: The Humane Society of the United States)

Eastern Coyote Concerns

Conversation about coyotes, coywolves, and most other apex predators inevitably incites worry among pet owners, farmers, and outdoor enthusiasts. Popular mythology has long touted the ferocity of our charismatic, carnivorous neighbors. While we are wise to respect their feral nature, wise to minimize risk to our domesticated animals, and wise to ensure that we not take undue risks or provoke wild animals of any sort, it’s also important to balance our concerns with a scientifically sound understanding. It’s even more important to adapt and embrace cohabitation; our ecosystem will pay dividends and our own health and pleasure will benefit immeasurably.

Frequent readers are aware that friend and Essex neighbor John Davis (Executive Director, The Rewilding Institute; Rewilding Advocate, Adirondack Council) serves as Rosslyn’s wildlife steward. He monitors the health of our land and the increasingly abundant flora and fauna that thrive in our small wildway along the Adirondack Coast. I reference here some of John’s advice on why it is wrong to kill Eastern Coyotes.

Killing these apex predators is wrong for several reasons:

1. It doesn’t work. If people are concerned about Coyotes or CoyWolves killing livestock or house pets, it is better to let the big dogs attain stable, self-regulating populations. Conflicts with domestic animals are most common in predator populations that are being persecuted, such that the young do not have mature role models to teach them to hunt and keep clear of people.

2. Apex predators, particularly top carnivores, are essential members of healthy ecosystems. They help hold herbivores in check and prevent them from over-browsing plant communities…

Hunting by humans does not mimic hunting by native carnivores, for human hunters usually target the big strong “trophy” animals, whereas natural predators select out the weak. Plus, the mere presence of top predators keeps herbivores more alert and healthy and less prone to congregating in and over-browsing sensitive habitats. (Source: John Davis, Wrong to Kill Coyotes, Wolves and CoyWolves | Essex on Lake Champlain)

John’s full article warrants a read. Just use the link in the citation above. And I will sit down with him soon (soonish?) for a one-on-one “Coyote Q&A” in the hopes of fleshing out his perspective and following up on your feedback. Please reach out with questions, etc. in the comments below or via social media.

By way of ellipsis until I post the “Coyote Q&A”, my personal experience is one of wonder and gratitude for our resident coyotes. They keep the deer population healthy and balance the rodent and rabbit populations (effectively reducing Lyme disease risks). And their song is the Adirondack anthem I savor when I’m in Essex and miss when I’m away.

Coyote Haikus

Frequent photographs from our trail cams document the healthy population of wild canines calling our fields and forests home. Although abundant, the familiar faces greeting us in photos win us over again and again. And sometimes inspiration strikes in the form of a coyote haiku. Or two.

Coyote Haiku I

Lone inquisitor –
scissoring, scanning, coursing –
stealthy swashbuckler.

Coyote Haiku II

Handsome hybrids hunt,
decipher scent streams, patrol
coyote crossroads.

I admit to feeling a certain romance for these wild distant cousins to the Labrador retrievers we have owned. I’m not blind to the challenges they pose for farmers, but there is an increasingly robust and reliable body of scientific research that can help guide sustainable agriculture in concert with coyotes and other apex predators. It’s high time that we learn to live together with our wild neighbors.

Coyote Photos

The following photographs of Eastern Coyote were recorded with our trail cameras and have been shared over social media.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CVWGHvgP29I/

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by (@rosslynredux)

https://www.instagram.com/p/CLh1XilglN1/

Here are some more coyote photographs captured on our Rosslyn trail cams.

Eastern Coyote, Trail Cam 2021 (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

Eastern Coyote, Trail Cam 2021 (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

Eastern Coyote, Trail Cam 2021 (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

Eastern Coyote, Trail Cam 2021 (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

Previous Coyote Posts

If you’re interested, here are some additional posts where I’ve featured coyotes photographed at Rosslyn:
- Coyotes Captured on Camera
- Coyotes and White Tail Deer
January 6, 2022
Morning Light, Front Hallway

Morning Light, Front Hallway, August 20, 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)

Ah, that morning light… Long before we purchased Rosslyn, before we’d even had any realistic discussions about purchasing Rosslyn, and before I personally had wrapped my mind around the possibility of Rosslyn becoming our future home, before all of this, I began experiencing a recurring daydream.

If you imagine a daydream to be a bit like a film, the sequence started in Rosslyn’s front hallway. Actually, the sequence started upon entering the hallway, as if from the kitchen door. It’s early in the morning, dawn illuminating the interior, chasing shadows into corners. Tasha, our labrador retriever, accompanies me as I step into the hallway, carrying a cup of coffee, steam rising to my nose. I linger on the way toward the dining room, pause a second, two seconds in the buttery warmth, to witness a whole new day arriving at this exact moment.

The photograph above, taken one week ago, last Saturday at 6:23am, is for all practical purposes that opening moment in the daydream. There are some notable differences like the actual art, carpet, light fixtures, and other furnishings. But these are incidental. The mood and energy of this photograph perfectly conveys the opening moments of the daydream that I relived countless times in the extended prologue to our acquisition of this home. Although the interior of Rosslyn’s front hallway was in decidedly rougher shape during our early visits to the house (photos in an upcoming post), I imagined it looking — and even more importantly — feeling just like this.

A little over three years ago I shared the following image and an earlier incarnation of the haiku below on Instagram, but the daydream dates to late 2004 through early 2006, the period when we were visiting Rosslyn while considering real estate.

Morning Light, Front Hallway, July 8, 2019 (Source: Geo Davis)

Morning Light Haiku

Mellow morning lites.
Merry mantequilla lights.
Durable daydream.
— Geo Davis

Early Morning Vibe

I’ve been a “morning person” for, well, forever. I rise early. I do my best thinking early in the day. My wellspring of motivation and energy is most notably in the first few hours after I awaken. And, all things considered, morning just make me optimistic.

So it’s not particularly strange to me that one of my earliest points of connection with Rosslyn was a morning memory of an experience that had never actually taken place. Frankly, Susan and I did visit Rosslyn for almost two years before deciding to make an offer, but we never visited early in the morning prior to purchasing. So the material for this daydream was conjured out of desire and various tidbits gathered during non-morning visits. Apparently my unconscious curiosity and desire was pining for early morning, alone with my dog and a hot cup of coffee (another anomaly which I’ll touch upon elsewhere), to witness the intimate arrival of morning in the home’s entrance hallway (and dining room, another return-to-later detail).

When Susan and I decided on paint colors, I pushed for yellow. She wasn’t particularly keen. I no longer recollect what color she desired, but my yen for yellow was quite simply a yielding to this daydream. My imagination had confected a morning vibe that needed to be experienced in reality. Not a particularly compelling argument when horse trading with Susan over design decisions, but I ultimately prevailed. Trim we agreed on early throughout the house. Beach hardwood flooring, the period chandelier and wall mounted lighting, the rug, the art,… all of these were joint decisions. But the yellow walls remain a point of disagreement even now. In fact, we’re considering a change, and given her willingness to accommodate me for the better part of a decade and a half with faint yellow walls in both halls, I’m inclined to yield at last. (Psssttt… But I haven’t admitted it to her yet, so please don’t through me under the bus!)

August 27, 2022
Tuesday Snooze-day
I’ve succumbed to the rhythm and rhyme of Tuesday snooze-day, not because this is an especially unusual site, Carley enjoying a postprandial siesta (after all, the same could be said of Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.) But coupling the second day of the work week with the hole-up-and-play-hooky siren call of a mid morning snooze? That’s simply too intoxicating to pass up. Especially because every inch of my 50 year old frame, and the grungy gray matter between my middle aged ears are aching for a little unplug and reboot time. Soon…

Tuesday Snooze-day
```
Snowflakes drifting
at a remove 
of two glass panes,
radiant heat,
a snoring dog,
shuffling paper,
a cardinal
gathering seeds,
morning meeting
double header,
conference call,
branches frosted,
fluttering paws,
barking in sleep,
time to triage
daily deadlines,
silence ringer,
to steal some z’s.
```
If I can’t justify a Tuesday snooze-day IRL, then at least I can pen a paean — albeit a quick micro-paean — and enjoy the revitalizing bump of an imagined siesta. Ah, the life of a dog!
February 7, 2023
Snow Fleas: Soggy Snowmelt and Springtails

Snow fleas? That’s a thing?!?! Yes, you read that correctly. Yesterday my bride, my beast (a perennially curious and wanderlusty Labrador Retriever) and I explored some soggy-but-still-snowy woodlands along the western shore of Lake Champlain with John Davis (The Rewilding Institute) and Jon Leibowitz (Northeast Wilderness Trust). It would be difficult to find a more interesting duo with whom to muck about on a balmy late December day, celebrating oak and shag bark hickory trees and pondering wild critter tracks.

In this melting eden we stumbled upon the snow fleas…

Lots and lots of springtails in December 2017 (Source: Geo Davis)

Does it look like someone sneezed pepper on the snow? Is the pepper bouncing around? You’re probably looking at springtails, also known as snow fleas. Don’t worry, they aren’t real fleas — they just bounce around in a similar way. (Source: WIRED)

That description, pepper sneezed on snow, is pretty much spot on. Bouncing pepper.

Lots and lots of springtails in December 2017 (Source: Geo Davis)

Springtails are incredibly abundant — there can be 250,000,000 individuals per square acre. They are active year round, but usually are hidden away under leaves or your favorite flowerpot. It’s a good thing to see springtails in and around your garden and woods. They are found where there is rich organic soil, and they help make more soil by snarfing up fungal spores, insect poop, and other debris. They rarely cause plant damage. (Source: WIRED)

Did you get that? Despite the assurance to the contrary by pest control companies, springtails are not bad guys. In fact, they’re good guys!

Springtails are not parasites; they feed on decaying organic matter in the soil (such as leaf litter) and, therefore, play an important part in natural decomposition. (Source: EcoTone)

Lots and lots of springtails in December 2017 (Source: Geo Davis)

Snow fleas are wingless insects, incapable of flying. They move by walking, and also by jumping. But unlike other famous jumping arthropods (like grasshoppers or jumping spiders), snow fleas don’t use their legs to jump… [They] catapult themselves into the air by releasing a spring-like mechanism called a furcula, a sort of tail that’s folded underneath its body, ready for action.

(Thus the name springtail.) When the furcula releases, the… [insect] is launched several inches, a considerable distance for such a tiny bug. It’s an effective way to flee potential predators quickly, although they have no way to steer.(Source: What Are Snow Fleas? All About Winter Springtails)

Lots and lots of springtails in December 2017 (Source: Geo Davis)

Lots and lots of springtails in December 2017 (Source: Geo Davis)

[Springtails] are able to withstand the bitter temperatures of winter thanks to a “glycine-rich antifreeze protein,” as reported in a study published in Biophysical Journal. The protein… binds to ice crystals as they start to form, preventing the crystals from growing larger. (Source: EcoTone)

And this intimate look at springtails courtesy of Mark Fraser (www.naturewalkswithmark.org) offers up the perfect wrap up to this first-and-probably-last post about snowy flea-like cousins to the other jumper pepper grounds…

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjLKzogOj8Q&w=550]

Thanks, John Davis, Jon Leibowitz, and Mark Fraser!

December 21, 2017
Spring Meditation 2018
Welcome to springtime in the Champlain Valley, a glorious but slightly schizophrenic transition — sun, rain, wind, hot, snow, sleet, etc. — when springtails make way for dandelions.

This visual meditation captures the haltingly springlike transformation of a small corner of Rosslyn’s back acreage over the last three months. A meadow’s margin. A fallen tree. A setting sun…

The video was made by compositing photographs from a trail cam captured between March and May 2018. Unlike most of my previous trail cam galleries and videos, this series is thin on wildlife. For some mysterious (and a bit unsettling) reason, wild critters appear to have been less abundant than usual. Or more savvy to the presence of my camera? Nevertheless the seasonal transformation offers a soothing, meditative perspective on the end of winter and the arrival of spring. I hope that you enjoy it.

If you missed previous posts with photographs from the wildlife/trail cam, check these out:
Now that I’ve downloaded the most recent image I’m pondering where to place the camera this summer. Watch the garden grow? Document the orchard’s fruity bandits? Spy on the waterfront for minks, ducklings, and my water-loving Labrador Retriever?
May 30, 2018
Winter Solstice: Longer Days Ahead

Griffin Considers Winter Solstice: December 22, 2013 (Photo: Geo Davis)

Welcome to day one of the Adirondack Coast‘s coldest season. Today is the winter solstice, the first official day of winter, and — more importantly for the likes of my mother and others who favor longer days and shorter nights — the threshold between the briefest day and the most prolonged night and imperceptibly-but-steadily lengthening daylight. If you live in the North Country it seems peculiar that winter should only have just begun given several weeks of wintery weather. Seasonality, in these parts, might suggest a slightly earlier autumn-to-winter transition, closer to Thanksgiving than to Christmas.

But the choice is ours to remark and not to make, so we soberly observe this hibernal milestone with tempered optimism that sunnier days await us on the other side. And, for the astronomically exuberant, it’s time to celebrate. Cheers!

If you’re longing for more sunlight, Wednesday is a day to celebrate: Dec. 21 is the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year — and first day of astronomical winter — in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s a sign that longer, brighter days are upon us. (Source: Justin Grieser, “First day of winter: Shortest day, longest night on December 21 solstice“, The Washington Post, December 21, 2022)

But, as with most tidy transitions, this threshold isn’t actually so tidy. Winter solstice may mark the shortest day and the longest night of the year, but the sunrise and sunset equation is slightly more muddled.

The bottom line: mornings will get a bit darker until early January, but we’ve already gained a few minutes of evening light. On balance, daylight will start to increase after Dec. 21, even as winter’s coldest days still lie ahead. (Source: Justin Grieser, “First day of winter: Shortest day, longest night on December 21 solstice“, The Washington Post, December 21, 2022)

So let’s focus on the lengthening days. And, if those increasingly cold days ahead bring snow, then let’s focus on that as well. After all, winter — proper, snowy winter — is one of our four favorite seasons of the year at Rosslyn! It’s a time for dog adventures, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, alpine and telemark skiing, bird feeders flush with avian wildlife, and that unique flavor or crystal clarity that only a subzero morning can catalyze.

Winter Solstice & Onward: December 21, 2022 (Image: Dark Sky)

And speaking of colder days ahead, this screenshot from Dark Sky appears to corroborate the generalization, albeit with a curious exception on Friday. Winter is here, and it looks probably that we’ll be able to enjoy a white Christmas (unless Friday’s warm weather melts the existing snow and delivers rain instead.)

In closing, note that the handsome Labrador retriever atop this post is not Carley, our current dog, but Griffin, a prior pal-o-mine. We lost him just over two years ago, and the ache hasn’t subsided. Maybe with longer, colder days ahead…

December 21, 2022
February Swim in Lake Champlain

February Swim: Griffin’s late February 2017 “polar bear plunge”. (Source: Geo Davis)

February swim, anyone? In Lake Champlain?!?!

[pullquote]Griffin “polar bear plunges” in 35° Lake Champlain… mid-winter swimming bliss![/pullquote]

Griffin, our now almost nine year old Labrador Retriever, was thrilled with to chase some throw-toys in the chilly lake today despite the fact that it’s February 19 and the water temperature is exactly three days above freezing… 35° of mid-winter swimming bliss!

Here’s a fuzzy but joyful glimpse into one of about a dozen of Griffin’s “polar bear plunges”.

We just returned to Essex and were quite excited about the recent snowfall. Last year’s virtually snowless winter was a bummer. No skiing in winter followed by alarmingly low lake levels due to unusually low levels of spring melt and runoff. Up until the last couple of weeks this winter has been similarly snow-free, so having a chance to spend the morning cross country skiing around Rosslyn’s woods, trails, and meadows with my bride and dog was a welcome change. And the perfect warm-up for Griffin’s February swim…

February 19, 2017
Daydream Retrieving

Daydream Retrieving (Source: Geo Davis)

Sleeping Dog Haiku

Lie, sleeping dog, lie,
postprandial, snooze-barking,
daydream retrieving.
— Geo Davis

When the hurly-burly and the kaleidoscopic cascade of commitments collapse into one another (and seeing through the turmoil requires a periscope) life hands us little reminders to catch our breath.

Reminders like Carley, sleeping at my feet in the reading nook outside my study.

Daydream Retrieving

Unplug. Reset. (Source: Geo Davis)

That last line of the haiku, “daydream retrieving”, is a timely tickle too. Perhaps the perfect mindfulness meditation for hammocking on a Friday afternoon. And that, a hammock, is another one those little reminders. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Daydream!

Enjoy your Friday evening. Revitalize over the weekend. And squeeze in a nap. Or three.

August 19, 2022