pre-winter/post-fall

After the leaves are gone, before the snow has come. it is that time.

The garden is done. the apples have been picked. just a few leaves still cling to their twigs. it is no-longer-fall.

But we are still processing our garden produce. drying, cutting, canning, pickling, freezing. applesauce, apple butter, dried apples, and pickled everything. it is not-quite-winter.

So, I guess this is a goodbye fall post, even thought I never had a hello fall post, or even a goodbye summer post.

Storing up. planting a garden for winter. the end of summer saw me planting seeds for the bleak, frigid winter. because in the northern winters,not a plant lives, except for the evergreens. as nice as the pines, firs, and spruces are, they're not much for company. I want flowers! so this year, I thought ahead. I have planted morning glories, marigolds, sunflowers, aloe vera, some vine-like thing, and some herbs in an east-facing window. my beloved morning glories should be blooming in January and Febuary, so I shan't be lonely then.

Although I find this time of year is a bit dull, there are things that I love about it: invigorating walks, ditching the saddle and riding bareback, drinking more tea... and the garb! scarves, boots, jackets over sweaters, wool everything, knitted caps, slouchy hats, berets, and those finger-less glove thingies (what are those called, anyway?). and another thing: I feel more inspired. more creative. more in the mood for art and crafts. it feels good.

And then there is this other feeling that i get. it is almost like nostalgia, but what is there to feel nostalgic about? maybe summer. or maybe it is the anticipation of winter. probably both, but still loving the moment.
it isn't  want. sometimes I feel so content that I feel discontent. sometimes things feel so perfect that they feel imperfect.

hippie shack

Down my road, an old dirt road, there is a cool place. I go there rarely, to keep it special. here's how to get there… 

there is a bridge on my road that crosses over the old Flute Reed River, a small river, well known among the locals. It snakes about our tiny town, crossing my road three times before it finally dumps itself into Lake Superior. Most of us have to cross it a few times just to get anywhere.

Before you cross the bridge, turn right, and you will come upon an old CCC camp. An old stone wall runs on the edge of a clearing for about fifty fee. Off to the right of the clearing, someone planted rows of spruces long ago, now tall and ancient. To the left, there is a path that runs along the Flute Reed for a ways, then turns slowly off to the right. before long, there is a path on the left of the main trail, among the bushes. It goes steeply down, crosses a brook, then goes steadily up for a ways. 

Part of the way down the trail, there is a gated path on the left. That path leads to a different place with a different story...
 To the right, across from the gated path, there is an even smaller trail. Coincidentally, the gated path takes the attention off of the hidden path, and even if you were to notice it, you could easily mistake it for a deer path.

This trail is short. Cross a stream, go under the young birch that is quite living, but been bent over the trail in an arch. There is a faded, broken child’s toy, a tiny motorcycle, on a pile of dirt. You can tell that it was once red, but it is now a pale pinkish orange. If you weren’t looking for the old van through the thick trees, you would miss it and keep going a little further, until you came to the “hippie shack.”

hippie van:

                                                                       
                                                                            hippie shack:

Who knows who once lived here? There are some small hints as to what type of people they were. The toy, a poster of Ringo Starr, some books that explore a wide variety of profound subjects.

I’m sure some people do know who lived here, but I don’t really want to know, unless it’s as romantic as I like to imagine that it is. This place is probably not as secret as like to think, but a girl can dream.

Hovland Arts Festival

In my teeny town of Hovland, MN, there are a lot of artists- painters, photographers, jewelers, potters, weavers, knitters, musicians... and more. We have two art festivals every year, where artists can sell their work. One before Christmas, and one every summer. The summer Hovland Arts Festival is something that I look forward to all year. I love talking to neighbors and seeing the artists' work. One of the best parts of the summer art festival is live music from local musicians!
This was the first time I sold things at the summer art festival, although I did at the Christmas art festival once before. There were probably over  twenty artists this year. I sold jewelery, decorated boxes, bags, and other little trinkets.

It's fun to think of creative ways to display jewelery, like on this antler.

I made this... thing, out of driftwood, to hang necklaces and bracelets on.

My boxes & bracelets.

pop-tab belts! lots of people commented on these, but no one bought any.

My neighbors were there selling their home-made bird-feeders and snow-cones!

It was so great to talk to other artists, see their work, and hear the amazing live music in the background!

Our friend and neighbor, "Grandpa" David Hahn, who draws and paints with watercolors, drew this picture of my little lady friend, Sparrow, and I.

Darling!

So, another Hovland Arts Festival has come and gone, and I am already looking forward to and planning for next year!

my words are short my thoughts are long

I'm just a writer of simple songs
My words are short my thoughts are long

I write about feelings
I write about love
I write about freedom and the skies above

I like to smell the wild rose
And feel the sand between my toes

Dew still wet beneath my feet
Purple clover lush and sweet

I'm just a simple girl that dreams
Of trees and fields, of skies and streams

Marcus On Guitar ~ drawing

Marcus On Guitar. Marcus Mumford, lead singer of Mumford & Sons

Thus, my garden begins

Thus, my garden begins:

notice how you can finally see the ground out the window!

April Snowstorms Bring May...

flowers? surely not. showers? well, maybe. if we're lucky, we might have some flowers in June. maybe we can even plant a garden, someday.
well, when life gives you snow, take pictures.

as for the garden, i will have to be content with the flowers that i have growing in my window sill.

morning glories are the apple of my eye, the flower of my vine. to say the least, they are my favorite flower, although i do prefer them in heavenly blue. sadly have not been so lucky as to secure any heavenly blue blooms so far this year. 

the fair maiden, Rapunzel, looks out from her tower. will she wither before spring?

my hearty marigolds are thriving! they are my sunshine.

baby bloom