outside – monadnock mama

admin / April 26, 2015

at the park

This weekend we visited the Ashuelot River Park in our hometown of Keene, NH. We used to go there frequently before we moved to Walpole, but it’s been a long time since our last visit. Spring is slowly arriving in our part of the world. At the park there is a gorgeous white magnolia just starting to bloom (which may be over-represented in these pictures…I couldn’t help myself), along with daffodils, forsythia, and the most adorable carpet of glory-of-the-snow that reminds me of the bluebell forests in the Lake District in England. [Lillia took the photo of me and Damian.]

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admin / December 1, 2014

christmas tree

I must admit that we don’t usually get our Christmas tree this early. But, this year with Lillia’s Nutcracker rehearsals and performances taking up several weekends, it just seemed like the right thing to do. I’d rather do it early than be rushing. And, all of the snow we got recently makes me feel festive. We always have such a nice time at Homestead Farms, complete with horse-drawn sleigh rides and fresh apple cider donuts.

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admin / November 26, 2014

the first snow

The cold was our pride, the snow was our beauty. It fell and fell,
lacing day and night together in a milky haze, making everything quieter as it fell…
— Patricia Hampl, 1981

Nature chose for a tool, not the earthquake or lightning to rend
and split asunder, not the stormy torrent or eroding rain, but the tender snow-flowers
noiselessly falling through unnumbered centuries.
— John Muir

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admin / October 17, 2014

in the woods // nothing gold can stay

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

— Robert Frost

I know this poem might feel a little cliché to some people, but it’s always been one of my favorites. For Christmas in 1998 (I was 17) my grandmother gave me a beautiful, hardcover anthology of Frost’s poetry, ordered thematically by the seasons of the year and accompanied by beautiful photographs of the natural world; it is one of my most beloved possessions. I have always loved poetry, but I find that with each year of my life it becomes more and more meaningful to me. And, now I find myself drawn to the woods to make my own photographs, my own homage to the beauty of the natural world. Thank you, Gram, for that long-ago gift that is still giving me pleasure and inspiring me all of these many years later.