Saturday, February 9, 2013

Recalling Landscape Tapestries of Summer Twenty-Twelve

While many are shoveling out from deep blankets of snow-drifts, I would like to escape our white wintry hillside by recalling landscape tapestries of summer twenty-twelve. Storms of blossoms unfurl throughout the spring and summer here at Flower Hill Farm attracting pollinators, birds and other beasts to our gardens, fields and forest. It is this living tapestry of color, texture, fragrance and sounds that inspired me to create this blog four years ago . . . February 6, 2009.

Over the last four years I feel I have grown as a photographer, writer and gardener from sharing the virtual world of gardens and nature with all of you. Lovely and brilliant fellow blogger Sarah of Sarah expressed it so perfectly in her sixth anniversary post when she wrote . . .  "What I see, I want to share with you. I do not walk alone in the snowy fields thanks to your company."

It is a joy to see the snowy fields of Maine through Sarah's eyes, as it is to see the opulent world of fellow bloggers and now dearest of friends Jane and Lance of the acclaimed Hattatt Budapest and Brighton blog. Blogging builds bridges to worlds we might never have known. It connects kindred spirits and activists for wildlife and I am so honored to know and be a co-author with so many talented gardeners and photographers on Carole Sevilla Brown's Native Plants and Wildlife Gardens blog and Ken Billington's  Focusing on Wildlife blog. I have just published the fifteenth installment of 'A Bestiary' which is a compilation of many tales regarding the wildlife that share Flower Hill Farm.

I want especially to thank all those of you who continue to visit and grace this blog with your thoughtful words even though I am not able to reciprocate as I once did. To gracious Eva, who has been with me since the beginning, who has no blog or link to share, please know that I am so deeply appreciative of your words of wisdom and endless support that always touches me to the core and inspire so much more.

The riot of life in these image memories is in such contrast to the cold and raw world that actually barricades me inside right now. I do have one door that opens inside but would have to trek through hip high drifts to get to other doors to shovel . . . and shoveling is not something I can do anymore either. Someone will arrive today or tomorrow to clear doorways and pathways, as well as, uncovering my little car. Having this medium to reach out to the world is fabulous anytime, but now, being literally 'snowed in', I appreciate it all the more. I am so grateful for not losing power and feel so for those who have. May it be restored quickly.


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