We got our Christmas tree this weekend, which is remarkably early for us. We even managed to put it up the same day. (There have been years when the tree sits outside for a few days before coming inside.) I got a few photos of the kids decorating the tree, and this one was my favorite. The motion blur was completely unintentional, but it made such a beautiful circular pattern. As one friend commented on Instagram, it captures the feeling of the holidays.
It’s December, and so now I am free of my commitment to daily blogging. But it seems I’ve developed a habit, because I feel compelled to post something. So, here is a photo of a fallen leaf, adorned with water drops. It caught my eye this morning while I walked the dog.
So, I am squeezing out a few more drops of blogging. And just because, I am squeezing otu a few crops of the photo above. Mostly crops of the drops.
Tonight, I think I will start a book. Reading one, that is. And because it’s been a rather emotionally draining day (tax bill vote, I’m looking at you), I’m going to re-read one of my favorite books.
A month into daily blogging, and I’m feeling a bit shrivelled. Certainly, not all my posts have been fresh and plum this month. However, I did write a few things with some intention, and had fun posting some sets of photos. So all in all, I’m glad I did this again.
I’m amused that there was only one exception to my daily posting success: The 2nd day. I did put something up for that day the next morning, so my grand total of posts for the month is still 30.
What I haven’t managed to do this month is spend time reading books. Since I finished grad school, I have really gotten back to reading again for enjoyment, and this is something that thas made me happy. But it would seem that the time I use for blogging takes up the time I might otherwise be reading a book. So, perhaps tomorrow I will pick up a book after I get into bed, instead of scrambling to figure out what to post here.
I also generally need to get back to spending more time on my research. I have some deadlines coming up over the next few months.
However, I really hope I can keep blogging semi-regularly. I need to figure out a way to commit to blogging, without it necessarily being a daily effort. The “when I feel like it” approach seems to result in many ideas, but not bearing fruit. And I like it when my blog bears fruit (even if that fruit is a bit shrivelled).
How about you? Do you have a blog, and if so, how do you decide how often to post?
I’m sure anyone who regularly eats chococolate has had the disappointing exerience of having some that was exposed to heat before you had a chance to eat it. You eagerly open the package, and find that instead of a silky smooth and evenly dark brown surface, you have a blotchy discolored mass. Even more disappointingly, the texture of the chocolate is usually a bit changed, and not for the better.
I recently had several such moments, but instead of unadulterated disappointment, my disappointment was tempered by surprise and admiration. Somehow, my chocolate had transformed itself into little canvases, with fascinating abstract landscapes.
I ate them anyhow. After taking a few photos.
What do you see in these? In the first one (shown once cropped, and once in a hand), several people saw a winter scene.
What else do you see? I mean, aside from chocolate?
Somehow, I have made it to day 29 of (almost) daily blogging.
I was preparing dinner one evening earlier this month, and this potato caught my eye.
In fact, the potato’s eye caught my eye. And its eyebrow.
A few nights later, I was again cutting potatoes, and once more, a potato caught my eye. And looked back at me pleadingly.
Tell me you don’t see the face.
“She must be running out of ideas,” you may be thinking. “Surely she can find something to post about beyond potatoes.”
If you think I’m posting about potatoes because I’m tired and out of ideas, you are only partly right. In fact, this was a planned potato post. At least a partially planned potato post. You see, I have a past of presenting particularly peculiar produce. Witness the sad potato of 2015, the jaunty butternut squash of 2012, and the shifty-looking eggplant of 2011. Somehow, I managed to post each of these on November 21st in years past. This year, though, I guess I forgot. In spite of having prepared the potato pictures, the 21st past with nary a vegetable. (Out of curiosity, I checked the dates when I took the potato photos above. Oddly enough, it was on November 8th and November 13th. And while I did not post them on the 21st, I do notice that the sum of 8 and 13 is 21.) (And really, this part is just me rambling on because it’s late.)
In spite of the many hours I spent working on it over the last couple of days, the abstract I was working on last night failed to completely materialize. I did make substantial progress in bringing about the substance of the study, but my co-author was not available for the final push before the submission window closed.
The good news is that the project is much more substantive, and I was able to scare up some concrete data that will move us forward.
And on the theme of concrete, since that’s the way my mind works, I figured I would share these photos of some concrete art. The installation pictured was one I saw at Heritage Gardens and Museum in Sandwich, Massachusetts back in June. I really wish I could remember and/or find the name of the artist and the piece (or pieces?) because I found the installation quite enjoyable. What looks from afar like a field of gray rocks, upon closer examination turns out to be varied little concrete forms, created by pouring wet concrete into little cloth bags. The resulting abstract figures have a lot of character.
Tonight I am working on composing an abstract to submit to a conference, so I don’t have time for a lot of words here. Instead, I submit to you these abstract compositions selected from my photo library.
Today we celebrated Thanksgiving, which is a holiday bound in tradition for me. And much of that tradition involves food. Not just the eating of it, but the preparing of it, the serving of it, and the discussing of it. I love that we have this holiday which centers around spending time with family and friends, and about sharing a meal with them.
Thanksgiving always leaves me full of thanks and of food, but also of nostalgia. More than anything, I think of Thanksgivings past at my grandmother’s house. I remember setting the table with the special china, fancy glasses and candlesticks. I remember being shooed out of the kitchen so my grandmother could manage the entire feat of feast-making in her own way. (Also because her kitchen was tiny, and she didn’t want us in the way.) I remember enjoying so much of the feast when it came time to eat, pretty much loving all of it, except for the dreaded liver lumps in the gravy. (My grandmother would cook up and dice up the giblets, and toss them into the otherwise smooth and tasty gravy.) And I remember the extended time in the kitchen after the meal, typically with one or two other family members, hand-washing and hand-drying all of the dishes from the meal. (Because my grandmother’s house did not have a dishwasher. Also, my grandmother was happy to get out of the kitchen at the end of the day.) I usually got the job of drying. I can still remember the feel of the dishtowels in my hand, typically linen and worn rather thin from years of use, and getting more and more damp until finally you had to get out a fresh dry towel.
I spent much of yesterday and most of today preparing food and preparing the space to eat that food. (Our dining room had gotten rather buried over the past 8 months or so, but I was bound and determined to unearth it.) We had a few guests (my mother-in-law, and a friend and her 2 kids), so there were eight of us. In spite of the moderate numbers, we had an immoderate number of food items on the menu.
Now that the day is done, and I’ve turned in for the night, I am still feeling full from the feast (which was blissfully free of liver lumps). I am also feeling full of thanks for the bounty of our feast, for our comfort and safety, and for the people in my life who make my life so full.
Yes, this post is really about acorns. In particular, some acorns that looked a bit funny to me, compared to those that my local oak trees drop. For one thing the acorns are really long. While they are probably of a similar thickness to those acorns I see locally, or maybe even a bit skinnier, they are quite a bit longer. Some of them even about twice as long as I expect an acorn to be.
Second, they have these crazy-looking hairy tops. They remind me of see anemones and rambutans. Or shaggy wigs.
These acorns (and presumably the trees they fell from) were near the reservoir in Central Park. I’m sure there is a way to identify them, but I’m not going to do so tonight. However, if any tree-lovers are out there who know the answer, let me know!
Tomorrow we celebrate Thanksgiving, and since I’m going a little nuts getting ready, I figured I’d post a bit about some nutty-looking nuts.
collecting tokens 