OK, first off, it’s tricky to shoot
a day in my life as I’m the one with the camera.
But I thought you might like to see what goes on
off-season so here goes:
My daughter made banana bread, then happy faces for breakfast.
She is 21 and lives her life with flair.
Next, I load up the car for a dump run.
Twice a week I take the Consignment Shop leftovers
to the Take-it-or-Leave-It.
Folk are always glad to see me coming.
While I’m out and about, I put up some yard signs
for my son’s campaign.
When I get back, a friend arrived so we made buttons,
And had lunch, we grew the dried beans last summer.
The afternoon brings me a chair in need of repair before
I can reseat it with neckties.
Lots of repair, but it’ll be worth it,
I like the lines of this one.
When I’m done, it will be our computer chair.
Then a bit of wandering and picture-taking.
Monomoy, the harbor after a storm.
These are the prizes for my Sunday School kids
when they memorize a Bible verse.
I think I’ll go on a hike and hide some in the trees.
Town is full of folk in the summer,
not so much in March,
especially after a storm:
This fish market, unlike Glidden’s, is closed all winter.
Cru is not open for business until May 8.
Who wants to eat oysters
surrounded by brown Christmas decorations, anyway?
My favorite bench for eating a sandwich
and watching the boats is behind yellow barriers.
The sidewalk will need to be rebuilt.
Lucky for hungry folk,
Stubbys is always open.
See the open door behind the sandbags?
Way to go, Stubbys.
Come on in.
not pretty, snowy winter
but windy, gray, drizzly winter.
This is when I focus in on God’s renewing work
so much looks lifeless and empty–
but it isn’t.
The ground may have been snow-covered
but there’s growth in the greenhouse.
Bigger ones planted February 18th.
these are replanted all winter,
one 3’x6′ tray for harvesting, another for growing.
Outside it looks like this.
No boats for three days, no planes for two.
But the tulips don’t know that.
Living by the law
Sunglow shines on sin
Scrubbed away by Jesus’ blood
Yes! By grace, not works
World’s power irrelevant
Equal heirs in Christ
Even here at Summer Street
Worshipping as one
Hailing from Holland
Brazil, Germany, Norway
the only real question:
Do I walk with Christ?
Les Miserables played at the Dreamland
last week, I went to see it with David.
It ties in with what Paul
is trying to say in Galatians.
The pictures are of a Nantucket backyard soon to be
redone by the new owner.
It’s full of memory I hoped to capture.
What keeps us going
When life becomes difficult?
Self-effort won’t work.
Jean Valjean learned grace
when it was freely offered
Javert never did
Which one was a slave?
Living by grace is freedom
Press on. Persevere.
Strengthens and helps us
to rest in God’s grace.
Our outdoor garden is kaput.
Fortunately, the real farmers
on Nantucket are still going strong.
My son popped over to Moors End Farm
and got me some Kale. Yay!
If no one’s there, you just grab what you want from the fridge
and leave your money in the Trust Box.
I love living in a place with a trust box.
Green and crunchy,
but not crunchy enough for potato chip cravings.
Commercial potato chips are not food:
anything that doesn’t remember the dirt
in which it grew is no longer food.
This kale remembers.
Take all the leaves off the stems,
feed the stems to your chickens,
tear the leaves up small.
You are about to make simpleandmerry’s kale chips.
Heat a 1/4 c of evoo
(extra virgin olive oil),
add finely chopped garlic and cook.
By cook, I mean for 30 seconds,
when you can smell the garlic, it’s ready.
Pour over kale leaves.
As soon as it’s cool enough,
massage the garlic oil into the leaves,
covering every surface.
Spread one layer on pan,
bake at 300 for 30 minutes.
Watch closely, they go from perfect to burnt
in the blink of an eye.
They also disappear in the blink of an eye.
Kale chips are deeelicious.
A blizzard piles up a bunch of snow:
Our front deck disappeared entirely.
Our trailblazer cat, Fluffy.
Yes, he really is that fat.
Not a bit intimidated by all that snow.
Patio picnics will have to wait.
The back door was shovelable, but icy.
In three days it’s gone from snow everywhere
to slush and ice, to scattered piles of snow.
I’m sure the aquifer did well in this storm.
Our lettuce bed yielded this tiny brassica.
A bit of gold in all the white.
I came into the dining room to find this poem,
See me and remember
the hot, hot sun
the touching breeze through
the grasses, between
There is no hope like a flower.
This is a very blustery day.
Nothing to do and the library is closed:
Two snowkids protesting.
Depends on your definition of
Books! Books! Books!
Of course, it’s closed for Blizzard Nemo.
For good cause
but try explaining that to a snowkid.
From the library park you can see the ocean.
The seaweed comes right up to the fence.
The crabapples trees were fine but up on Rose Lane:
Fondue, kept warm by a sterno can,
is our favorite storm supper.
Fed this batch to the chickens.
Sort of forgot how to make it,
but batch two was perfect:
Nice and cheesy
broccoli and breadcubes,
with occasional swordfights.
When they start playing with the flames…
Go to banana chunks and chocolate.
Thank you, Lord, for storms.