Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The sun was warm

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and wind is still,
You're one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlight arch,
And the wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you're two months back in the middle of March.
Robert Frost
Monday, April 19, 2010
Her Early Leafs a flower
Shagbark Hickory leaf



NATURES FIRST GREEN IS GOLD
Natures first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower,
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief.
Then dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.
Robert Frost
This is not just a nature poem, but tells of the order
of nature. Comparing it with the natural process by which the cycle of life is completed.
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Trillies are out
Maple Syrup






This is the second year we tapped a few maple trees in our yard. We used no special equipment just what we had on hand. Our trees are quite large so we could put 3 taps in each tree. Yes work is involved and patience is required. I used an oval roasting pan that fit over two gas burners and a candy thermometor. Wool was used to filter the finished syrup. It was great fun but best of all is the pure maple flavor on your "Norwegian Vaffle"
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Landmark center St. Patrick's day
Monday, March 15, 2010
A patch Of Old Snow

Old snow.....usually we walk by and wish it would melt away, seemingly insignificant to most. Robert Frost did not like being called "A Nature Poet." His critics chided him about all the trees he had in his poetry. His come back was to say "all his poetry, but for just a few had people in them." He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize 4 times. From, A The Road Not Taken, Louis Untermeyer says "Frost's work chronicles the landscape, seasons, and character of rural New England while exploring the larger questions of life's meaning and complexity
A Patch of Old Snow
There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blown-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It was speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I've forgotten
If I ever read it.
R. Frost 1874-1963
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