Finally. Other than the big snow dump in late October we’ve barely had a dusting of the white stuff. I thought it might be an entire winter of bare earth. But now this.

Walking out of the village we watched children sliding down the good slope at the country club, and one teenager attempting to ride his snow board with little success. The trees stood out in monochrome, each one clearly showing its unique structure.

We turned around at the house with the “BEWARE OF DOG” signs (that always make me think of this) and hiked back up the steep hill, feeling virtuous and looking forward to hot tea.

Kathryn Clark has been working on a series of quilts that map foreclosed properties in communities across the US. The quilts are beautiful and graphic in their simplicity, while also being filled with meaning.

Albuquerque Foreclosure Quilt

Each little hole in the fabric, each block of color represents a lost home, and all the grief and hopelessness that comes with it. I feel like I understand the housing crisis much better by looking at one of these quilts than I do by reading endless articles.

Detroit Foreclosure Quilt

You can see many more of her quilts and read an explanation of the project in Kathryn’s own words on her blog.

I was wondering where to start up again after a long break from the blog, then I was given this magnet.

Right. Anywhere is good.

Last week saw the first frost of the season,

followed immediately by a blizzard.

Too soon, too much, too weird! I want to register a complaint, but I’m not sure who with. And anyway, I’m finding myself resigned to it being winter already.

Yesterday I had the door open and all day in the background was the sound of leaves rustling across the ground. Labor Day brought with it the orange undertone that creeps into everything green. Even the light is getting that low angled rust color to it and the squirrels and I are rushing to hoard the end of summer bounty.

In among tomatoes of every shape and size, the first little Benning’s Patty Pan squash. Fresh light green, to remind me that in the not too distant future it will all start over with spring.

I was talking to my friend V about all sorts of things: the meaning of life, mandalas, colored pencils…

A couple of hours later she sent me a picture of this amazing 13th century field structure, near Montady in France. And it made me think of the meaning of life, mandalas, and colored pencils.

Irene blew through here and we were without power and water for a couple of days.

We were lucky compared to many, but we did get a little swimming pool in the basement, so there’s been some throwing out of damaged things, and a lot of laying stuff out to dry.

Being without hot water for four days sure makes me grateful for my shower now that it’s back.

My stash of frozen tomato sauce was parsed out over the winter and spring, and I defrosted the last jar just as the new tomato crop started to color.

I want more jars of sauce in the freezer this winter, and planted twice as many tomato plants, but we’ll see how many tomatoes get into the sauce pot once leaf spot diseases and tomato sandwiches have had their way.

Thank goodness there’s always the local farm stand.