I'm Back

Just a quick post to say I am back in Massena and trying to get my life reorganized after having been away for a month. I am really looking forward to getting some dyeing done, and happy that the temperatures are warming up as I dye my yarn and fiber in my basement, which can be quite chilly in the midst of winter.

Almost all the snow is gone and it's only March 16th. I know this was a hard winter for those south of here, but it has been nice not to inundated with snow this winter. It was especially helpful with all the trips we made to Vermont this winter-snow was not an issue at all, which is pretty miraculous for northern New York and Vermont.

Time for some breakfast and some delicious St. Lawrence Valley Roaster coffee. I saw Tim roasted some Ethiopian coffee yesterday, very tasty I am sure. My new favorite is Kenyan AA. It is not mentioned in the flavor notes, but I always taste chocolate undertones when I am drinking it.

Here's a photo from last Labor Day weekend at Cranberry Lake. I can't wait to get back up there in the spring. This is one of my favorite rocks on our property. As children, my siblings and I spent hours playing on this rock imagining that it was all sorts of wonderful things-a pirate ship comes to mind right now.

My Dear Sister Jane

Jane Elizabeth Gardner-Duffany

February 3, 1958-March 4, 2010

Jane died peacefully last night, with a few of the many who loved her by her side. When we were talking about her funeral and what poems she would like read, I suggested the following, and after I had read it to her, her only comment was that she didn't like ships, so we will not be reading this, but it brings me comfort.

Gone From My Sight
by Henry Van Dyke

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying..

The poem Jane chose to be read is written by Mary Oliver, a Vermont poet. Jane, in her typical Jane fashion, told me that I could not read the poem at the funeral, the implication being that I would prefer a shopping center to a field. And while I will admit that am quite fond of shopping, I would much prefer a pond. Silly Jane.

What Was Once the Largest Shopping Center in Northern Ohio Was Built Where There Had Been a Pond I Used to Visit Every Summer Afternoon
by Mary Oliver

Loving the earth, seeing what has been done to it,
I grow sharp, I grow cold.

Where will the trilliums go, and the coltsfoot?
Where will the pond lilies go to continue living
their simple, penniless lives, lifting
their faces of gold?

Impossible to believe we need so much
as the world wants us to buy.
I have more clothes, lamps, dishes, paper clips
than I could possibly use before I die.

Oh, I would like to live in an empty house,
with vines for walls, and a carpet of grass.
No planks, no plastic, no fiberglass.

And I suppose sometime I will.
Old and cold I will lie apart
from all this buying and selling, with only
the beautiful earth in my heart.