Damp Sunday Stroll

Such a busy Friday and Saturday, much touring about, many photographs taken! So while I'm sorting through all the evidence of enjoyment, here is my Sunday stroll. We had heavy and constant rains overnight, very refreshing for my garden!


On the deck, wisteria.



In the lawn, wild ox-eye daisy.



In one rose and perennial garden, pink lupine.



In the same garden, the dianthus called Sweet William.



In the big rose garden, a wild rose.



One of the most ancient of roses, the Four Seasons Rose/Autumn Damask. Dates from Roman times. At one time the only reblooming rose. Deliciously fragrant!



Rose of the Day: Shailers Provence. The blowsy pink boursault rose that my mother rooted from a cutting and mailed to me. Now the enormous shrubs are among the tallest in the front rose garden. Most days, my favourite rose!



And indoors, the amaryllis plant the previous bishop presented to me as a thank-you gift some five years ago.



For links to other Strolls, see The Quiet Country House.

By the Lake

We did some self-timer shots with the Big White Boat passing by the dock. There was definitely a "money shot" but I really liked this test shot.



I had a good afternoon of meetings. She had an awesome afternoon by the lake. I got home in time for the show: sunset on the dock.







We had delicious salmon for supper--she cooked it to perfection.

Today we're off to the outlet center with a discount coupon. After that, the personal tour of the State House. Somewhere along the way we'll pick up lobsters for suppah and rejoin the Chap and Ruth and Jewel back at the Lodge.

My Friend

We decided yesterday that we might have first become acquainted during a puppetry class at the local art museum, when we were 10-ish and 11-ish. A couple of years later we participated in a theatre workshop--it was as young stage-struck exhibitionistic performers that we bonded forever. At our grammar school I was a year ahead of her, being a year older. When I left for a private day school, she followed a year after. In high school we were the best of friends. I dropped out to start college a year early. She showed up at the same college as a freshman when I was a junior. The next year she transferred out. She was the first to marry, when I was in grad school. She attended our wedding.

Lots of years went by. We lived in different parts of the country and didn't see each other much.

But nowadays when we get together, it's like we're 13 years old again and no time has passed at all.

She arrived on Tuesday, the hottest day of the year (99 degrees at the Manchester airport that day.) Ruth was overjoyed to see her again and Jewel was happy to make her acquaintance. It was an instant connection.

Yesterday we came here to the cottage. No men, no dogs, no cares. Just us. And plenty of our favourite foods. And the trusty fudge recipe we used duing our sleepovers way back when we were chocolate-crazy teens.

So here we are. Enjoying this view.



And these clouds.



And this fish.



(I throw worms to him from the dock and he gobbles them up!)

We roused ourselves in the late afternoon and drove up to the town that claims to be--with justification and documentation--The Oldest Summer Resort in America.



We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant with a fantastic menu. We had guacamole as a starter. It was made tableside, right before our very eyes.



While in town, she bought a pink t-shirt that says "Relax" on it. I don't think she needed the instructions!

I bought a t-shirt, too. And birthday present for the Chap.

We're now waiting for the big white boat to sail back up the Bay on its usual Thursday morning run. It's quite breezy today, not a cloud in the sky. Sunny. Only 62 degrees.

I've got to head to the city for a meeting later this afternoon. Can't bear to pull myself away. But I don't feel guilty leaving her here on her own. I mean--she's got the lake. The view. The fish. And a t-shirt that tells her exactly what's she's supposed to be doing here, in case she forgets.

I don't think she will.

Things We Do on a Very Hot Day

Admire the tropical plant (passion flower) on the screened porch.



Release two baby painted turtles into their natural habitat. (One already headed into the little lake!)



Watch our resident loon.



Take a bath using "calming" shampoo. (When our houseguest arrives in a few hours, we'll be able to gauge the extent of its calming properties!)



Ruth knows to close her eyes to avoid the soap.



Jewel behaves beautifully, as if born for "benching area" at a dog show. (We don't dare remind her she's not purebred!)



Says Ruth, "That felt good, didn't it?"



How do you cope with a Very Hot Day?

United

I realise that my votes in my state's House of Representatives have a direct impact upon people's lives. I don't often see that impact up close. On Saturday I did.

Last year a same-gender civil union bill came before the Legislature and I can't claim to be objective about it. When my finger pressed the green button for an enthusiastic "Yes" vote, I acted on behalf of loved ones. My blood relatives. My in-laws. My many friends whose lives were either painfully or happily altered by their coming out. People whose names and stories I will never know.

I even attended the bill signing ceremony, something I almost never do, just to watch with my own eyes as our Governor's signature turned that bill into our state law. I felt pride in the fact that this was a voluntary legislative action to ensure civil rights--it was not done by court mandate, as in the handful of other states with similar laws. On January 1 of this year, the law took effect. Since then, a couple of legislators have taken advantage of it.

And on Saturday, in a very private but quite beautiful way, so did two friends of ours, who first committed to one another two decades ago.

Their civil union, presided over by a justice, took place inside a church but not in the sanctuary. After we witnessed the brief ceremony--and yes, I got very emotional--we proceded into the sanctuary for a Eucharist service, which concluded with a brief blessing.

Now, the issue of sanctioning and blessing same sex unions liturgically is a controversy and will probably continue to be. As I undergo my own discernment in these matters, I understand and respect all feelings that have been expressed.

But I also know that my denomination has a long history of blessing buildings, fishing fleets, motorcycles, garments, household pets, and farm animals. It therefore seemed perfectly natural to me that a priest--and all the rest of us--prayed on behalf of a couple joined in a union that is lawful in this and several other states.

As at any modern-day family event--wedding, baptism, confirmation, graduation--a professional videographer and sound tech were present, a still photographer as well. Many members of the congregation (me included) had cameras.



The Chap had a theory that the colourful shoes one party to the union was sporting might've come from his acquaintance Elton John. It turned out not to be the case.

After the service we lingered in the church, chatting with friends. The Chap and I were the last to exit the building. It was sunny--and oh, so hot--and I noticed that the roses were blooming riotously across the street on the lawn of the State House, my home away from home these past two years.

Turning to my personal photographer, I asked if he would take my picture. This was an opportunity for a photographic souvenir of my time in the State House. I was wearing a favourite and rarely-worn dress (purchased ten years ago because it complements the gorgeous bead necklace my mother brought back from Venice.)

"Sure," says the Chap.

As we started across the street, we noticed video cameras assembled on the opposite curb, and assumed they were the ones that had been inside the church. Unperturbed, we walked straight towards them. A young man nipped out from behind the big camera and accosted us.

"What was it like?"

"Joyous," I said. At which point I realised, given the nature of his question, that he hadn't been inside.

"A typical Episcopal service," the Chap said, accurately. "Pomp. Music."

"Joyous," I repeated.

Belatedly we noticed the microphone hanging from his belt, with the television station logo printed on it.

Hastily the reporter said, "We're not interviewing attendees. We're respecting everybody's privacy."

In case you hadn't guessed by now, the couple who had just been united were high-profile enough to garner media attention.

I asked him how the local station had learned about the event. They were tipped off by the foreign press.

Off we went. My photo session was brief. The light wasn't right for posing with roses, or the Liberty Bell. The Chap had the clever notion of placing me under the columned portico, on the steps, with the stained glass state seal above me.



We then drove to the historic and spiritually significant site of the reception.



We all posed for a group photo. The photographers perched on one of the buildings.



On that hot and humid and happy night there were speeches. And poems. Laughter. And tears. Delicious food. Harp music and folk music. Even a singalong.



We were fortunate in our tablemates, the couple at whose home we saw Barack Obama last summer.

When we got back to the Lodge, we were too excited--and too hot--to be sleepy. I turned on the 11 o'clock news, mostly for the weather forecast, to learn how long this heatwave is supposed to last.

And there we were, on the tv screen, the Chap and I, captured by the Channel 9 cameraman as we crossed the street from the church to the State House lawn. (The footage showed up again on the Sunday morning news program.) My "joyous" comment was not quoted. An official photo of the united couple, released with their permission, accompanied the story.

Didn't get much beauty sleep, which normally wouldn't matter. But I had an afternoon date with a video producer and crew. Yesterday I was interviewed as part of a DVD project--at the very same church where the civil union and Eucharist had taken place the day before. The lighting tech turned out to be the still photographer hired for the civil union ceremony and reception.

I've worked both sides of the camera, and believe me, I would've preferred to be on the cameraman's side and not in the hot seat. But I was a good girl and followed the directions I was given and answered the interviewer's questions as best I could. And all the while I was powerfully reminded of why I abandoned a future as an on-camera person to become a writer/producer instead.

Last night was exciting, too. The bear stopped by--I'd forgotten to bring the feeders in. The dogs were barking insanely before and after I emerged outdoors to retrieve the feeders. The bear came back. And left a few claw marks on the deck.

After such a happenin' weekend, you may be sure we're having a quiet Monday. (A hot one, too....) The two main things on the agenda are releasing the little turtles and bathing the dogs. And trying to keep cool!

Sunday Strolling

Featuring another of Aisling's Sunday Strolls gives me a little time to determine how to blog yesterday's events....

We witnessed and participated in something momentous, a private event with public consequences. And we inadvertently ended up on the 11 p.m. news. Not by choice!

In the garden 'tis the season of purple and mauve, with a background of green in many shades.

Spirea entwined with lilac.



Purple lupine.



A butterfly breakfasts on the chive flowers.



Cranesbill geranium.



The contrast of new leaves and old on the big boxwood.



Rosa rugosa, the first rose to bloom.

Cheaper than Worms

The title of this posting comes from a phrase I invented many years ago. Before I ever lived in NH year-round, in fact.

It was summer. The Chap and I were staying at the cottage on the Big Lake. My brother-in-law had joined us. We headed to the market at the traffic circle--the gateway to our town on the lake--to stock up on provisions. I was a serious fisherwoman and wanted some crawlers. The Porter men, being addicted to ice cream, needed a fresh supply.

I met them at the checkout with my carton of worms. They had their carton of ice cream. The Chap whipped out his wallet. The cashier rang up the purchases.

The worms cost more than the ice cream.

"Cheaper than worms!" said I.

It's a phrase we use a lot.

Yesterday I resurrected it after a) filing my candidacy for state office and b) purchasing worms.

It costs all of two bucks to file. My tradition is to empty my piggy bank and pay it in small change: eight quarters.

(reasonable facsimile: not the actual quarters)

After completing my round of errands--filing at the Town Offices, mandolin lesson in the Capital City, stop at the vet to pick up heartworm pills for the pups--my last stop was the market at the traffic circle in the town in which I officially reside. (Why do I inevitably wind up living near roundabouts? So I won't feel too nostalgic for England?) I wanted worms for my baby turtles becase I'm feeding them up before releasing them, and to feed Walter my fish at the Big Lake.

The worms cost something north of the two bucks I spent to file for State Representative. Becoming a candidate is also "cheaper than worms."

Here's today's female turtle, seeking a place to lay her eggs.



Back to housecleaning.

Have a great weekend!

Moth! Mom?

This luna moth greeted us when members of my diocesan committee arrived at one of the Seacoast parishes late yesterday for our meeting:



This morning, the first female turtle migrated from the little lake into our yard to dig her nest and lay her eggs.



Last year the first turtle arrived on May 30. I checked the dates, and June 6 appears in the record, as does June 3. I'd say she's right on time!

Can't help wondering if she's the mother of the little ones I've been raising in the aquarium.

More rain today--it's wonderful. By tomorrow, when 90 degress is forecast, this cool, damp weather will be but a memory....

My two meetings yesterday, legislative and diocesan, went extremely well. I can't help being impressed and humbled by the commitment and dedication of those involved. I'm confident that good work will result.

I am also absolutely flat-out exhausted by this week, with little time to recover before a busy weekend that includes much Lodge-cleaning (company coming!) and a joyous and celebratory event that I might or might not be able to blog about.

For an account of the legislative hijinks in the waning hours of Wednesday night, here's one from the newspaper reporter who was seated right behind my section, tapping diligently on her laptop through the entire crazy circus that unfolded.

Yawn....

We completed our legislative business at 11:55 p.m., at which time the State House doors were unlocked and some 303 representatives--and the press corps--and the remaining lobbyists--emerged into the damp and foggy night.

I was home by half-twelve this morning, interrupting the slumbers of the Chap and the dogs.

I slept as late as I could this morning, but it's a busy day with lots of hopping about the state--a Fish & Game Subcommittee meeting at Fish & Game HQ, and diocesan meeting on the Seacoast. Needless to say, two late nights in a row have taken their toll.

All sorts of news has accumulated in recent days. Some interesting (at least to me) and some not so much.

My novelist cousin has sold his second novel. It's another scary novel based on his experiences when he studied at Harrow School outside London. (Where the Chap and I visited him, years ago.) Lord Byron attended Harrow. Winston Churchill, too.

My cousin is now represented by very the same New York literary agency that represents me. Only he's got a different agent.

There's suddenly a reason to get a new ball gown. That may become a summer project. Big social event on the distant horizon, with some very precise wardrobe requirements. But no time now to think much about it.

Hotter weather is coming this weekend. I plan to release the baby turtles, which have lived in the aquarium since April, into the little lake. During my recent absences, the Chap has had to catch their food and feed them.

Over the past 7 weeks I've lost 10 pounds. This week I hit double digits. No, I haven't mentioned anything about it--not why I did it, nor how. When I started out, I didn't even own a scale. (Actually, I still don't--I borrowed one. There's just no other way to tell if you're actually losing weight.)

As for the other news, I can't remember what it is. Apart from saying that it's nice to have a quiet morning to watch all the pretty birds at our feeders, and rejoice at all the rain that recently fell upon my garden.

Last Day in the House?

Yesterday Jewel treed something. Not sure exactly what, I never saw it. She didn't seem too sure herself, and Ruth looks positively puzzled. I assume it was a squirrel or a chipmunk.

I, too, had a productive Tuesday. After a long dry spell, due to other commitments, I had a full day of novel writing. Consequently I hit a major milestone and am delighted.

I was up very late last night watching candidate and former candidate speeches and talking heads repeat the same things over and over ad infinitum as they speculated about matters that, imho, aren't worth speculating about at this particular moment. I'm slightly tempted to re-post that photo of me with the presumptive Democratic nominee, but I won't. I'm holding it in reserve until the general election. At least I now know whose names will be appearing on the ballot with mine!

Speaking of elections--the filing period for state office opened today and lasts one week. I don't know yet which day I'll be signing up to run.

Despite not getting to sleep till the wee hours, I was up very early this morning. After a cuppa tea and my banana, the girls and I had nearly a mile-long walk in the driving rain--one of the best walks ever. I wore my wide-brimmed Italian straw hat, the weave is so tight that I stayed perfectly dry.

When I went down to the shore to lock up the boathouse, I saw my old friend Walter the fish. It's the time of year when Mrs. Walter lays eggs near our dock. He spends the next few weeks guarding them. I often toss worms to him so he doesn't haven't to leave and hunt for food. (Note to self: stock up on worms!)

Drove back to the Lodge a little while ago in a vehicle redolent of damp dog...an odour I rather like. I'd just enough time to scrub, brush, paint and dress myself before heading to the State House.

This afternoon the Legislature, in our final regular session of the year, votes on Committee of Conference reports. But that's not all! The Governor and Executive Council, the Speaker and the Senate President are calling us into special session afterwards (following an interval for refreshments!) to deal with budgetary issues. I wonder if things will be contentious...hope not.

For all I know, this could be my last day--ever--in the House, where I occupied Seat 3-093. Whatever happens in November, serving my district and this state has been one of the great privileges--and thrills--in my life.

So far!

On the Water Again

This morning after picking lots more lily-of-the-valley and sweet woodruff to make May Wine, and feeding grasshoppers to the little turtles, the girls and I drove up to the lake cottage.

The View From My Window


The Chap was here already, he arrived yesterday. For the summer he works four days a week at his office, meaning long lakeside weekends. This is his first free Monday of the season.

My schedule yesterday afternoon prevented my coming sooner. I attended two dance recitals, one at midday and one in late afternoon. The daughters of friends were performing. (I attended last year as well.) During the 3 hour interval between shows I stopped in at the New England Antiquarian Book Fair.

"Purple People-Eater"


"How Much is that Doggie in the Window?"


All students gathered on stage for Reverence.


Very late last night, the loon on our little lake was calling loudly. I've seen our little lake loon several times, but our loon in the Bay here on the Big Lake remains elusive--heard but not yet seen.

Such a lovely, breezy day here on the lake. I hope to be as productive as last week, when I finished writing a couple of articles. I've got one more piece to polish off this afternoon. The rest of my time will be devoted to the novel. Practising "Fisher's Hornpipe" on the mandolin. Walking the dogs.

Sunday Stroll

Aisling at A Quiet Country House has feature called Sunday Stroll. I haven't quite timed it right lately, but today I made the effort!

A handful of freshly picked Lily of the Valley, which runs all over the property



Iberis or Candytuft, underplanted among roses



Spirea, embracing one of the decks



Too much white? How about some green?

Heritage sweet peas sprouting in a tub on the deck--17th century Cupani's Original and Painted Lady from the 18th century.



Wisteria buds



And a bit of pink to finish off the stroll

Bleeding heart