Thursday, July 6th, 2017

On the Sixth of July

In the morning, we went to Clark Reservation. I love this place. Iris calls it “The Place With the Rocks.”

 

 

 

When I was not too much older than Iris, we went here with Pop.

He said to me, “Jessi, do you know how these rocks got all broken up like this?”

I thought about it for a while, trying to remember if anyone had told me. No one had.

 

 

 

 

“Well, at one time, it was all just one big rock,” said Pop,

directing my gaze across the broad expanse of fissured rock with a sweep of his arm,

“then your mother came by with a sledge hammer and broke it all up.”

I was impressed.

 

 

 *   *   *

 

 

Later in the day, we explored the gardens surrounding my mother’s house.

They are impressive, billowing over with blooms,

framed by stone patios and walls she built herself from rocks gathered at Clark Reservation.

Turns out, the reason she broke all those rocks up with her sledge hammer

was because she wanted to take a few pieces home.

But that’s not what these pictures are about.

These pictures are about Mom, in her gardens. They are also about photography.

Pop was a photographer.

Photography gives one the ability to capture and hold a quadrangle of light

without allowing in any distracting interference that the surroundings might provide—

 

 

 

leaving the viewer unaware that, just 30 degrees to the right, chaos abounds.

 

 

 

 *   *   *

 

In the vegetable garden, there are always extra vegetables. You might not hear about them, because usually the woodchucks and the rabbits get around to hearing about them first. But they’re extra, so it’s okay. Sometimes, we get to play with the extras. Usually it’s just things like onions. Bunnies don’t like to eat the onions because they don’t like to have bad breath. So they leave the onions alone.

 

 

 

Akiva uses them to make some onion soup.

 

 

 

On the far side of the fence, Mom (a.k.a. Grandma) gathers berries while eager mouths await.

 

 

 

As she waits, Iris finds some berries on her own side of the fence.

 

 

 

Photo-op with adorable children:

 

 

 

 

 

 *   *   *

 

We had a wonderful day.

 

 

Wednesday, July 5th, 2017

Baba Miller’s 100th Birthday (party date)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Actually, she was born yesterday. Apologies for being a lazy photographer. I took no photos of her.

Tuesday, July 4th, 2017

Independence Day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Location: north side of Gramma’s house

Friday, June 30th, 2017

Which is the way to faerie-land?

These are the wild days.

 

 

In this late June’s late noon haze,

 

 

we wander through the wetness left

 

 

by June’s heavy rains.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We meander through the puddled woodlands,

 

 

troubling the mud and

 

 

muddying the waters.

 

 

And we wander: mother, son, & daughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are the wild days.

 

 

This is our own small wild place.

 

 

And this is how we play and these are our faces.

 

 

And this is how we keep the small child’s wild ways.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We ramble down between the misty trees

 

 

to play. These are the wild days

 

 

of mid-summer when faeries play

 

 

like children and small humans become fae.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is here we find our magic place.

 

 

It is here we find this great white faerie house

 

 

hidden in the weeds. This house is inhabited

 

 

by friends.

And these are our friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And these are our woods. And these are our bridges.

And this is our river. And these are our bodies.

And these are our ways. And this is our home.

And these are the wild days.

 

 

My children are arrows, and magic the bow. And I am the quiver.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are the wild days.

In this late June’s late noon haze,

we wander through the wetness left

by June’s heavy rains.

 

We meander through the puddled woodlands,

troubling the mud and

muddying the waters.

And we wander: mother, son, & daughter.

 

These are the wild days.

This is our own small wild place.

And this is how we play and these are our faces.

And this is how we keep the small child’s wild ways.

 

We ramble down between the misty trees

to play. These are the wild days

of mid-summer when faeries play

like children and small humans become fae.

 

It is here we find our magic place.

It is here we find this great white faerie house

hidden in the weeds. This house is inhabited

by friends.

And these are our friends.

 

And these are our woods. And these are our bridges.

And this is our river. And these are our bodies.

And these are our ways. And this is our home.

And these are the wild days.

 

My children are arrows, and magic the bow. And I am the quiver.

 

—Jessica Rose Shanahan

Nov. 14, 2017

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Tuesday, June 27th, 2017

The sweetest big sister in the world: far side of the river.

Summer on the river. (Favorite spot.)

 

 

 

We walk into the woods on the far side.

 

 

 

This is my little girl.

 

 

 

She does not remember a time before Akiva.

 

 

 

Tho she does get the feeling she used to have her mommy all to herself.

 

 

 

I cannot imagine the lonesomeness of being an introverted only child.

 

 

 

There is no thing that my parents ever gave me better than siblings.

 

 

 

Look! Two!

 

 

 

May they always be together,

 

 

 

& never walk alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, June 25th, 2017

Hot Sun, Cool Shade.

Hot sun,

 

 

 

Cool shade.

 

Sunday, June 18th, 2017

Museum Carousel

A wee boy went trotting

Upon his white mare

Bumpety bumpety bump

With his sister behind him

So rosy and fair,

Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

 

 

A raven cried “Croak”

And they all tumbled DOWN

Bumpety, bumpety, bump

The mare broke her knees,

And the wee boy his crown,

Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

 


 

The mischievous raven

Flew laughing away

Bumpety, bumpety, bump!

And vowed he would serve them

The same the next day,

Lumpety, lumpety, lump!

 

 

—Mother Goose

 
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Saturday, June 17th, 2017

Baby Goat Love (New Village Farm)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friday, June 9th, 2017

& I told them, “Dance.”


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I took them out

 

 

to the field

 

 

in the evening light

 

 

and said to them,

 

 

“dance—”

 

 

And then

 

 

the clouds

 

 

took up the orchestra

 

 

and the wind

 

 

sang its solo voice.

 

 

And they danced to the song

 

 

of the clouds

 

 

and the wind.

 

 

And the earth

 

 

would not let their feet

 

 

rest.

 

 

I took them out

 

 

to the field

 

 

in the evening light

 

 

and said to them,

 

 

“dance—”

 

 

and they

 

 

were set

 

 

free.

 

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Thursday, June 8th, 2017

Table Traffic

Akiva eats best

 

 

with a lot of traffic at the table.

 

 

It can be hard to reach the food at times.

 

 

Silly game!

 

 

Iris eats best

 

 

under the table.

 

 

She will explain to you

 

 

that it is a reasonable thing to do.