Sweetfern, Comptonia peregrina, is neither sweet nor a fern. It looks like something the dinosaurs would have walked through, releasing the warmest, spiciest aromas of imagination.
Saturday, June 8, 2024
first of the year
Tuesday, June 4, 2024
Monday, June 3, 2024
decisions
Did a little walk-around this afternoon with AM, the fellow who has helped me with a lot of work since 4 April; initially removing the tree from the barn, later organizing rental of a dumpster and directing the barn demolition, and amidst other tasks, tackling the priority issue of creating or improving temporary livestock shelters. Funny story: I had contacted him and introduced myself way back in March - remember March? when the barn was in one piece? - asking if he'd be interested in sawing up some fallen branches and boles in my Upper West Side paddock. We got on very well at our first meeting, and ended up walking the property while the conversation ranged into lots of possible projects. When he was leaving, he said, "Just call me when you decide what you want to do first," and I'll bet he was surprised when I called him a couple of weeks later and said, "I'd like to start with removing the tree that has fallen across my barn."
For weeks now I've been going round and round in my mind, wrestling with decisions about next steps. I'm determined to move forward soon, and it was good to walk around the shelters and the barn and the paddocks and have a natter about every option either of us could think of.
~~~~~
Sunday, June 2, 2024
Saturday, June 1, 2024
extremely green
We've reached the point where most of the trees' leaves are past the soft stage, and many are now deeper shades of green than they were even a week ago. Every window in my house looks into a sea of greens. And outside, my main chaise view is up into layer after layer of beech, maple, oak, and hemlock branches. Very many very greens.
It's a nice way to start the month of June. Gazing into green.
~~~~~

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