Hum.

Look at those little wings go! This morning I made homemade nectar: four parts boiling water to one part sugar. Let the concoction cool and then pour it in. I figured that if we were already attracting the birds with an empty feeder, there was no need to go out and buy the fancy stuff.

Hey, Blossum.

I’m not sure what’s more exiting: the two morning visits from a ruby-throated hummingbird to the feeder (still empty!) outside the kitchen window, or the blossoms on the smaller of the two cherry trees. There’s even a little bee doing its pollination dance, though in this photo it’s rather blurry.

Hey, Bud.

Amid five days of rain this week, the forsythia bloomed. Then yesterday we had a “soaking rain” (said The Weatherman), yet we spotted these perky little buds on the cherry trees on the eastern slope above the house. Planted early last summer, they survived the winter! Their companion down in the wet valley didn’t even make it through the fall; the deer got to it.

Just as with a little sun and rain these saplings will revive, so, too, will this blog now that spring has come and we have returned to Vinalhaven. Most of the entries will probably fall to me (Gabe), now that Adri has Ompapaya, but we expect her to make an appearance here as well.

Happy May!

Ramon.

Ramon Castaneda, Adri’s grand-uncle, passed away on Wednesday, March 25. We did not know Ramon all that well, yet he was a fixture of the family. We will miss him and wish him well.

Stillness.

This morning held an exquisite stillness, of
the setting moonshine glinting off the snow, of
the creaking Morsø woodstove, of
the milk swirling in my tea, of
the curtains gently breathing across the drafty windows, of
the laundry pile settling on the kitchen table, of
Lumi asleep in her crate as the owl in his tree, of
the vase awaiting a spring tulip, of
the flag upright on the battered green mailbox, of
the snowbound chipmunk tunnels that will close up with today’s melt, of
the birdseed awaiting the bill of the red-bellied woodpecker, of
the deer paths that traverse Dry Hill, of
the grasses poking through the snowcover of Brad’s fields, of
Yoga Joe and Yoga Jane in their asanas on the windowsill, of
the books sighing on their shelves, of
the jade plant soaking upward its water, of
the earthworms at the bottom of the pool beneath the snow beneath the sky, of
the unopened birthday cards on the lazy Susan, of
the woodpile behind the stove, of
the dawn through the trees, of
the recumbent yoga mat

Foot in Mouth

Last night, having supped and cleaned up by five-thirty, a walk rendered impossible not by cold or darkness or winter torpor but by a severe crick in Adri’s neck, we wondered what to do with ourselves. First, there was the jigsaw puzzle that I had snagged from the dump. What if all thousand pieces aren’t in the box? Plus, I’m saving it for Amanda’s visit. We could go to town instead, meaning Great Barrington, and wander the aisles of the Co-op, Big Y-American Owned, Guido’s, and even Price Chopper, seeking out the latest gluten-free wafers. The potholes on Adsit Crosby, though, would only aggravate Cricky. Considering Adri’s relentless activity, it’s a wonder she hasn’t hurt herself sooner. Odd, then, that this pain wasn’t from bouncing on the trampoline to Just Dance or holding ardha chandrasana for three minutes – it caught her in the shower and left her stiff as C-3PO. “What about Miller River?“ she suggested, turning her whole body along with her head. The mill is gone, of course, but the languid Konkapot is still there. A meeting hall and a schoolhouse, a library and a convenience store, an artist’s gallery, a schoolbus depot – all stretch along the river. Phew. Having settled on a destination, we only needed a reason to make the trip. The library, our favorite excuse, was closed. Adri rubbed her neck, and two grinning motives appeared: Aspirin and popcorn. I try to have three objectives before making a car trip, but this pair sufficed. Mill River, moonless, was dark when we pulled in. There were no cars at the convenience store, shown here in 1910. I held the door for Adri and admired its old-fashioned, wrought-iron latch handle, the sort still on many Vinalhaven doors. A half dozen rest in the rafters of the Green House mudroom. Inside, Adri admired the tofu in a cold case. For a convenience store in a mill town without a mill, the selection was good. We found the pain-reliever shelf, its offerings prolific, and settled on a blue box of Aspirin. Adri wandered off among the remaining aisles, and I moved to the popcorn display. This choice was easier: we had come for kernels but left with microwave. In the meantime, though, I discovered the duct tape section. Just last week I helped Mike go through nearly half a roll in taping an oversized air-conditioner cover snugly around one of those slumbering beasts. I thumbed through postcards and fingered a dog leash. As I sniffed a rawhide bone, I heard Adri say to the woman at the counter “You know you’re bored …” and sensed trouble. Had a grammar-school teacher warned me against use of the second person? Or was it the novel sound of Adri making small talk? The effort was admirable, and she sounded all the more genuine and adorable to me as she continued: “… when you hang out in the local store.” A radiator hissed. I couldn’t quite make out the cashier’s face in the reflective sheen of the electrical tape I surreptitiously held up. Yet I did hear Adri try to recover the fumble by asking where the woman lived. “Canaan,” said the radiator. I joined the awkward pair up front, paid for two postcards, and a box of all-natural microwave popcorn, and the pills. Adri grabbed a York Peppermint Paddy, the only candy I remember my father eating, and we paid for that, too, and left.

A gluten-free but love-filled birthday!

There are few foods that I truly crave and miss since becoming strictly gluten-free but pizza and apple pie are strong exceptions. What I would give to walk into a NYC pizza shop and walk out with a hot, gooey, cheesy, slice…the same cravings come around during the holidays when surrounded with fresh baked apple pies. Despite best efforts and intentions I have yet to try a GF pizza or pie that has lived up to the “real deal.”

This year I turned 27 and in honor of my special day Gabriel really went all out! Not only was I showered with love and affection, but he stepped out on a limb testing his culinary skills…GF apple pie just for me! Since he presented it to me in the morning it took all the will-power I had not to dive right in! I managed to wait until midday but then there was no holding back. We heated it just little and dug in. Mmmmm!

The crust was pre-made and caved in but who cares, it’s all about the flavor and there was plenty of that going on. The apples inside were perfectly warm and soft with just the right amount of seasoning and juices. The bottom crust was delicious as it soaked in the apples juices and flavors, the top was a bit dry and bland.  In the future, we decided, we’ll leave off the top crust and keep it an open-faced pie. What’s the saying – “the way to one’s heart is through their belly” (?!) well that certainly holds true for this gluten-free girl… thank you Gabriel for an all around wonderful birthday!

That Red Barn.

A few pictures to show that we have been keeping ourselves busy..our home away from home is finally almost finished. Living room and kitchen shown below – bedroom and study to come.

Meet Lumi.

Lumi, short for Lumidee, will be coming up from Tennessee to live with us on January 31st. She’ll be 12 weeks old. We can’t wait to welcome her as the newest member of our family!

Losing Yourself in the Labyrinth.

This past weekend brought us lots of fresh snow. I woke up early on Sunday morning, pre-dawn actually, to get ready to teach at the spa. As I made my first cup of tea the sky was still dark so I couldn’t see much of the happenings in the yard. By my second cup though the sky had brightened and I noticed Gabriel in the yard, shovel in hand. What is he doing there? I wouldn’t have thought twice if he’d been on the road or by either house (then he clearly would have been shoveling paths) but he was standing in the middle of the backyard, leaning on his shovel, staring at the snow. I found it very odd, even slightly embarrassing. Why is he standing there like that? I yelled out the door to him in my impatient tone, “What are you doing?” He glanced my way and quietly responded, “You’ll see.”

Two hours passed. I had drunk my tea, checked my email, showered and dressed (in my favorite tie-dye yoga pants) and was ready to leave for class. Gabriel hadn’t come in yet and we were planning to leave together. I opened the door once more and even more impatiently this time , yelled to him, “What are you doing? It’s time to go!” He put down his shovel and came in.

We went to class. I, bundled in my snowsuit and snow boots, Gabriel on snowshoes. Yoga bags slung over our shoulders. I’m sure we were quite a sight. Due to the previous night’s snowstorm, only three people were able to make the journey over the unplowed roads but it was a good class nonetheless.

I asked Gabriel on the walk home what he’d been doing in the yard with the shovel. He replied only by saying, “You’ll see.” Grrrr. I despise vague answers like that. I could only imagine and my imagination wasn’t nearly creative enough.

While I was inside being critical and judgmental, stuck in my thoughts, Gabriel had been outside creating something beautiful and meaningful, a maze in which the point is to lose oneself, to give over and be taken on a journey. They say that if you cheat on your journey through the labyrinth it brings bad karma. Well, the same can be said for our journey though our daily lives.

We are so quick to judge without taking the time to see clearly. I was guilty of this on that snowy morning. Bringing awareness to our thoughts, choices, and actions must always be a priority. It’s easier to approach with a skeptical and critical mind often, but with awareness we can be more accepting and understanding, which in the end is always the right path. It is easy to lose ourselves in the labrynth of life but if we walk carefully and follow the most clear path it should lead is in the right direction.