dental day

I had major dental work done today: a new root canal on the left (#14), and oral surgery to repair a problematic root canal on the right (#30). So this is all I got for you today.
As the saying goes–“You get what you get and you dan’t make fit.”

white pine with new and old pine cones (Pinus strobus)

Time for more Tylenol 3. See you tomorrow.
xoxo Mary Jo

here, there, everywhere

Yesterday’s wild bee balm bloomed in my kitchen.

We have bees. We don’t do the beekeeping, the U of M does the beekeeping. We are one of their field research sites. We’ve been doing this with them for about 12 years or so. We get the honey, they do what they want with the hive, collect data, and keep us graciously in the loop. Their method for keeping the whole system living over our harsh northern winters involves a two hive system where queens and colonies are swapped back and forth as needed to keep everyone alive and thriving. It is only July 13, and our hives are taller than I have ever seen them in the whole time we have had bees. Each time the bees fill a box with honey, the beekeepers will add a “super” to the hive. Usually by this time in summer, the hive will be the two bases boxes, and 1-2 additional supers–so each hive is maybe 4 boxes tall. Right now, we have a hive that is 8 boxes tall! It looks like a skyscraper, and it is only JULY! And the bee balm only bloomed yesterday and the goldenrod is a whole month away. If the hive gets much taller it will become tippy, so I am guessing the U of M beekeepers will actually start taking boxes to the extraction lab soon. Three cheers for happy honey bees!

wild bee balm (wild bergamot)

one, two…then a million

Yesterday I did not notice any monarda (bee balm) on my comings and goings. Today I say it everywhere. In abundant quantities. Clearly, everyone in the bee balm organization got the memo on the same morning and went right into action. Impressive.

Wild Bergamot, aka wild bee balm (Monarda fistulosa)

a tragedy, then a gift

My friend Kristin has (had?) a robin that makers a nest every year over the light at the entryway to her house. Interestingly, my Mom has the same thing. This year, Kristin’s robin made her nest, laid this vibrant clutch of four eggs, and then went missing never to return. Today, Kristin finally took the nest down and brought me the eggs. The beauty is–once again–overwhelming to me. I am so sad these eggs didn’t get a chance to hatch, and I am so grateful to have gotten this close-up look at such perfection. I can look at a robin’s egg and imagine the infinite.

American robin eggs (Turdus migratorius)

I am in a mood for beauty

I do not know what has gotten into me, but it suddenly feels like everything I see is almost overwhelmingly beautiful. Almost painfully beautiful. I am feeling overwhelmed by the cranes and their colts (they are giving them flying lessons daily now), by the roadside flowers (did the DOT back-off on mowing roadsides lately? It it so pretty out there), by the color of the sunsets over the lake from our north facing deck. I am sure you are thinking it is probably because we are finally back in our beloved home after a 14 months in an apartment following the fire. But I feel like more than that is going on. I feel tapped into something.

By the way, I went almost entirely media free following the fire, so perhaps that is contributing. Whatever it is, I love it.

Case in point: a single over-wintered cattail leaf bent into a pleasing curve suggesting a staff. So beautiful.
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cattail leaf (dried from being over-wintered)