“When the cold comes to New England it arrives in sheets of sleet and ice. In December, the wind wraps itself around bare trees and twists in between husbands and wives asleep in their beds. It shakes the shingles from the roofs and sifts through cracks in the plaster. The only green things left are the holly bushes and the old boxwood hedges in the village, and these are often painted white with snow. Chipmunks and weasels come to nest in basements and barns; owls find their way into attics. At night,the dark is blue and bluer still, as sapphire of night.”
Alice Hoffman, Here on Earth

Monday, March 19, 2012

A Scepter From The Marsh

I think this is a variation on King of the Mountain done with phragmites in spring instead of snow piles in winter.
Nothing quite as fulfilling as plucking yourself the world's tallest stalk of grass and marching around the yard with it. Love the big, fat grin on my middle boy's face from earlier today. Such great triumph over a "little thing."
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