Beachcomber's Delight

We went out to one of our favorite cove's yesterday. Knowing it is still early in the season by Maine standards, we were rewarded with a significant bounty of treasure as you can see. Our daughter, who lives in Canada; was down for a few days and joined us for a sunny afternoon of beachcombing followed with a lovely picnic lunch.

Now that my jewelry endeavor is official and Lisa-Marie's Made In Maine of Bath is carrying my pieces; I was on a hunt for more seaglass and was richly rewarded in my quest. My husband is making sea treasure boxes this spring, so his efforts turned searching for the stuff one finds washed up on shore.

We felt like we had struck it rich upon pooling our take at the end of the day. I sorted the seaglass by color and then by size to add to my existing stash. Found an interesting piece of aquamarine colored glass that I hadn't run across before, so that was especially exciting. I wonder if I'll ever find red? I get so excited to find cobalt but red might just send me over the moon, who knows?

The picnic lunch was a real treat - as eating outdoors usually is, but this day came with a view extrordinaire; as you can see. The splendor of the day wasn't lost on any of us and we soon settled into that contented silence that takes over after all of your sense are full up. You know the feeling . . . all your tensions drain out, and the peace of nature takes over. The rhythm of the ocean's tide lulls your busy mind into a relaxed state. The air cleans out the cobwebs that have been building up over the winter. Just what a body needs, and just in time; as here comes summer! Sure glad we were able to steal away on this day and go out to this wonderful little hideaway; in fact I think it was just what the doctor ordered.

Must get busy at the jewelry bench . . . 'till next time

Chipmunk in the Window

Yesterday was what I used to long for in a Sunday afternoon. When everything was bustling and we had to go here and do this and then that, I longed to be able to just sit and listen to the rain hitting the window, on a Sunday afternoon. Such was our day yesterday, and while I am thankful for the peace and quiet, there was a moment that made me think that perhaps it was just a bit too quiet.

Sitting in the rocker facing out toward the still frozen pond, with my feet up on the hearth, reading a great mystery novel; I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. First I checked for the cat and then the dog and they were both peacefully sleeping away in the immediate vicinity. Slowly I turned my head so I could see out of the side window, and there sat this fat and sassy little chipmunk just staring at me as if to say, “How you doin’ Mrs. D? Did you miss me?”

That of course set off a whole round of thoughts in my mind about all the trouble these cute little rodents have caused over the past few years. First is the fact that they are smart enough to know where the cat and dog can see them but not get to them. They will purposefully sit on the back step that is just outside of the French doors, eating an acorn or some other morsel. Knowing full well that they are out of harms way, and that with any luck they will be spotted by either the cat or the dog or on a good day; both. They love it when the dog gets racing from one window to the other, barking her high pitched “I see you and I’m going to get you” bark.

We’ve had things knocked off the shelves in the basement by these little critters. We’ve had our cable TV wires chewed nearly through, holes dug in all sorts of places one doesn’t want holes in and of course torturing the animals with their loud screechy chatter when they dare to venture into the basement.

We’ve tried to use natural repellents with no visible response. In fact I think I heard that guy yesterday laughing at me, saying “Nice job Mrs. D, sprinkling those deer urine crystals around was amazing – really sacred us away, ha-ha-ha. Putting out mouse traps was really a waste of time too – as you can see. And by the way, good choice not using that bar bait stuff, as your fat cat would have just eaten it.”

Perhaps this year I should try reverse psychology tactics. Maybe we should make them pets of sorts, kind of like those little chipmunks in the cartoons. If we aren’t working so hard to get rid of them, just maybe they will tire of the game and go somewhere else more fun. Doubt that it will work, but short of calling the exterminator; it may be worth a try. After all, what else have I to do while I wait for Ice Out and all of the springtime activities that await us here at the cottage? Alllllllllvvvvvviiiiiiiiiiinnnnn!

New Beginnings

Spring officially arrived on the pond this week, but remembering that we're in Maine doesn't mean that we're picking tulips just yet. What the arrival of spring does bring is the onslaught of renewed energy and the excitement of things to come. We know that soon the ice will melt off the pond - in fact there are many "Ice Out" parties had in that honor.

Once the ice melts, that will bring all of the summer birds back we so miss all winter long. I feel particularly thrilled when I hear the loons begin their mating calls in their first nights back home. The calls are entrancing and quite magical, and fill your heart with the spirit of love. Give it a listen (click title for audio clip) and let your mind wander to a warm spring evening, sitting out on the dock. Perhaps you've even had the great fortune to see the loons swimming nearby as we have. The speed at which they swim underwater is amazing.

Of course getting the cottage ready for visitors now seems much more important than it has all these long slow winter months. We must empty out the closets of boots and hats and coats to make room for life jackets and water shoes and paddles. Yes indeed, spring certainly is a season of renewed energy. For that I'm thankful I enjoyed the quiet restful months of winter, building up a reserve; as there is much to be done at the cottage this spring.

In Like A Lion

You know the old nursery rhyme, that says March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Just to be true to form we have a big old storm that arrived mid-day, just when we'd finally chipped away the ice from last week's event. About now, we are all ready to think of spring and all that offers us. In fact today my 6 year old grandson Isaac, said he wanted it to be springtime, and that he was sick of winter. I second that!

We have decided to have a little St. Patty's day fun in two weeks with a kids party for the three wee ones. I'll bet we'll have some cupcakes festooned (that must be a good Irish word), with green frosting and green sprinkles and of course the magic green milk.

That reminds me of a great story. When my kids were little I would always be excited for St. Patrick's Day to arrive, for no other reason than to have a little fun after yet another long winter. I would always make sure to "treat" the milk the night before to insure the desired results. We would once again be surprised and amazed that the Leprechaun had visited while we were all sleeping and magically made our milk green.

It was a tradition easy to carry on, with the exception of one year that we had baked lots of Christmas cookies and had used up all of the green food coloring. Even though I was sure my youngest child had long ago figured out who was at the root of the green milk, I still wanted to perpetuate the charade. I scoured the cupboards in high hopes that maybe there was a little bottle of green food coloring stuck somewhere it didn't belong with no luck. The only thing left was a half bottle of green sprinkles. With fingers crossed, I sprinkled and sprinkled until I had used all that was in the bottle and only had a tint of green in the milk.

The next morning, my daughter went to the kitchen, poured herself a bowl of cereal and proceeded to cover it with milk. Very soon she yelled, "Mom, there's something really wrong with the milk - it has little green specs in it and I think it's moldy." Oh dear, the jig was up. I had to fess up to my misdeeds and admit I had caused this issue in the milk, and assure her that it was fit to use. No matter what I said, there was no convincing an already fussy eater that I was the cause of the green spotted milk, and thus ended a generation of green St. Patty's Day milk.

I am proud to say that the tradition has been carried on and now at least three of my grandkids have the thrill of a visit from St. Patty each March 17th. By the way, the picture at the top is of Ross Castle in Ireland. Sláinte!