by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Country Living |
Paying attention to the signs. Like these:
Trails
Susan Lobb Porter
Encaustic on Cradled Board
Tracks
Susan Lobb Porter
Encaustic on Cradled Board
Trace
Susan Lobb Porter
Encaustic on Cradled Board
I made these encaustic pieces two summers ago. Thought of them this evening when I went out to check the area behind the back gate. We’ve been having a lot of work done lately. Landscaping. Irrigation. The guys have been driving a tractor and truck back and forth, leaving the gate open more often than not. I really don’t want the deer to think of it as an invitation to dine on the new roses.
The area right outside the gate is soft dirt, your basic wilderness bulletin board. I decided to see who’s come a callin’.
Doe, a deer.
Mr. Jack Rabbit.
Rocky Racoon.
Ssssssssnake.
And moi, with a tire tread background.
Funny thing about photographing tracks in the late sun…they give the illusion of being raised up instead of recessed. Go figure.
There’s lots of other critters around here. I think when the workmen are finished I’ll sweep the area clean from time to time and see who comes a calling. In fact, I feel another photo project happening. Stay tuned.
As always my sweetums, I’d love to hear what you have to say in the comments below. And if you’ve stumbled upon some interesting tracks be sure to share that.
xo
by Susan Lobb Porter | Country Living, Gardening, Porterosa |
Ah my sweetums, it’ SUMMERTIME!!!
Melons! Flipflops! Corn on da cobb!!!
Now if I was a little kid I’d be whining right about now how bored I was with vacation.
And my mother would be telling me there was laundry to fold, dishes to wash, furniture to polish. Then off she’d go to work, leaving me with a couple of older siblings calling the shots. Or she’d pack us off to Nana and the family summer place on the Long Island Sound where the beach was a one minute walk. And the hammock under the oaks was the best place to read Nancy Drew.
And the front porch was perfect for lobing water balloons at passing teenagers, the BIG kids, y’know..
All theses years later (and no, I’m not going to tell you how many) my summer vacay consisted of jumping out of bed early, what FirstBorn calls the butt crack of dawn, to be showered and dressed and semi-coherent before a herd of pickup trucks and landscapers descended on the property like a colony of worker bees in Levis.
Because after nearly twenty years of living here, Mr. Spouse and I decided it was time, way past time, to pretty up the property. To define a little patch of civilized garden between the house and the forest that surrounds us. For years we’ve been building rock walls and terraces because we’re good at making things. But since neither one of us had a clue what to do about plants, we hired a designer. And a contractor. Got the soil prepped and the irrigation in.
And then the plants came. I took a week off from work to greet them.
Heat
from the Shadows and Reflection Series
©2013 Susan Lobb Porter
Did I mention this is summer? That it’s hot?
Watering
from the Shadows and Reflections Series’
@2013 Susan Lobb Porter
I spent most of the week running around with the hose. Hand watering precious little green things still in the can. Or newly planted but not quite in the irrigation system yet. Telling them this was their forever home and they would be very happy here. Please don’t die!
Mmmmm…Roses!
We’re still not finished. The next wave of plants comes this week. The icing on the cake according to the designer. And after that there will be more as I grow into this. Already I know that the three old fashioned English roses, the ones that smell divine, will not be enough. I can move this and that and have room for a couple more.
And I see spots for bulbs. For Day Lillies and Daffodils. And those whatchamacallems with the big poofy flowers. And up in the little orchard I’ve been assured there’s room for two more fruit trees. I’m thinking Nectarine and French Plum will go nicely with the Apples and Pear. With native wildflowers growing between them.
I suspect that this garden will further blur the lines between LIFE and ART. Plans are growing in my head for sculptures. For wild haired crazy women spirits among the trees. Assemblage! Mosaic! Whatever…they will evolve as the garden evolves.
One Step at a Time
from the Shadows and Reflections Series
©2013 Susan Lobb Porter
But for now there’s more work to do. And I have to keep at it, one step at a time.
xoxo
Are you a gardener? I’d love to hear about your favorite plants and adventures in the comments below, especially if you know anything about zone 9. I think it’s 9. Snows some in winter, hot in summer. That sound like zone 9 to you?
And remember, if you share this on FaceBook I will eat chocolate for you! What’s not to like about that???
by Susan Lobb Porter | Country Living, Life |
Evening, not quite dusk. A walk to the mailbox, camera in hand. Here’s some of what I saw.
Lilacs entwined with blackberry brambles. Smelling like heaven.
Wisteria growing through blackberries. Growing up trees. Once upon a time DearDaughter called them purple pinecones.
Looking down the lane from the foot of our driveway. The treetops in the meadow lit up by the setting sun.
The neighbor’s lab. Yes, he’s every bit as active as the photo implies.
The lane beyond the bend.
The organic farm. Much better gardeners than I. Or should I say me?
Wildflowers in the meadow. Something yellow. I’m sure they have a name.
Mr. Mailbox and friends hangin’ out on the corner like they always do.
Now I’m heading back home.
The only bird who sat still long enough for a photo before flying off in a blur. There were a lot of them and they were noisy…in a good way.
Heading up the driveway. I’m home. And so lovin’ these longer days.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Country Living, Porterosa |
Early this morning, I mean early, like around 4 when it’s still black as pitch, I stood out on the front porch in my jammies. Jammies in this case being a euphemism for an old T-shirt and finest kind panties from JC Penny. Standard romantic sleepwear after thirty years of marriage.
I stood out there scaring off THE BEAR.
And why would I be doing that?
Because for sure he’d knocked over the recycle can, a bin nearly as tall and far broader than I. It’d been the sound of crashing bottles and cans that woke me up. Then he moved on to the garbage. We’ve done this drill before. He’d rip open the bags, drag them who knows where, leaving a trail of yucky things I’d have to clean up later in the day. Damn bear. Worse than kids when it comes to making a mess.
So as soon as I heard the recycle go, I was out of bed in a flash. I flipped on the driveway lights, stood on the porch and…well, how does one scare off a bear?
Easy peasy. If the sudden glare of the lights and the sight of me in my Penneys panties wasn’t enough for Mr. B, I clapped my hands. Five sharp claps.
He answered through the darkness, a few gutteral grunts.
I clapped again. He grunted again.
And then I went back to bed. Because, really, what else could I do? I rolled in beside Mr. Spouse and told him all about my adventures. He grabbed the blanket, rolled over the other way, muttered something about bears. And then he snored.
But in his own way, I’m sure he was quite impressed.
And after breakfast I restocked the recycle bin, located the remains of the garbage about fifty feet from the scene of the crime, put on some gloves and cleaned up the mess left by Ursus Americanus. And I do hope he enjoyed the turkey burger, the one that spent a couple hours ripening in a hot car on a hot day before finding its way to the trash.
Now, to the age old question, does a bear chit in the woods, the answer is well, I’m sure the one who ate nearly ten pounds of pony psyllium does.
But that was another bear. Another adventure.
And now I’m off to Studio Grande to design my new business cards, paint and have a most productive arty life kind of day.
Have a great weekend! And if you didn’t spend the morning cleaning up someone else’s mess, dearest sweetums, then consider yourself ahead of the game.
