jumping the gun

one of my husband’s dreams is to live one day where he could grow potted lemons on a terrace to supplement his kitchen herb garden. we do not yet live in a place like that. we have a senior in high school, and a career that requires him to be in minnesota for at least part of the year. so he got a little ahead of himself this summer, and planted one lemon tree and one meyer lemon in pots on our dock, where they were watered daily with lake water, where they received all of the sunlight it is possible to receive at this latitude, and where they received about as much love as any human being can lavish on non-sentient being. as his reward, the meyer lemon is currently in full, glorious bloom, and our sunniest kitchen corner smells like lemon blossoms. well played, mr. hoffman.

meyer lemon blossoms

a moment of grace

finding the evolutionary perfection of this dove feather unexpectedly calming. a moment of grace in an otherwise chaotic week. mourning doves are one of my favorite birds. steve and i lived in the city of minneapolis for twenty years. waking to the sound of church bells and mourning doves is one of my fondest memories from those years. i don’t hear mourning doves nearly as often now that we live outside the city. so my heart sang when i happened upon this feather today while walking the puggle. they are nearby. i need to pay more attention.

mourning dove tail feather (Zenaida macroura)

one would think

one would think that after all these years of STILL blog, that i would be good at distinguishing cedar berries from juniper berries. but i am not. it’s one of those little things that just never stick–like my not knowing left from right. okay, well, left and right isn’t so little, but you know what i mean. my son is a very bright student, studying calculus, physics, french, and literature but he doesn’t know the 12 months of the year in order, even though i’ve tried repeatedly to help him learn them. little things. some stick, some don’t.

cedar, or maybe juniper, but probably cedar berries

a month shows up a month late

it took much longer than usual this year for november to show up. in fact, it almost took until december. but it’s here now, in all of its muted grayscale beauty.

cattail leaves in november (typha)

one holiday at a time

i am big believer in the one-holiday-at-a-time movement. with thanksgiving officially behind us, i have said my own personal farewell to autumn, and can now turn my attention to all things winter.

dried white roses