A jaunty little set of smallish (9-inch) cooking spoons. Or as I like to think of them, insouciant saucier spoons.

New on the ’stack: Between imagination and logistics. The difficulties of planning a 1200-mile hike, leavened with historical fiction, planetary science, and cute photos of my dog. Sticking to the point has never been my long suit.

Looking forward to reading this:

Sown in the Stars (by Sarah Hall) brings together the collective knowledge of farmers in central and eastern Kentucky about the custom of planting by the signs. Sarah Hall interviews nearly two dozen contemporary Kentuckians who still follow the signs of the moon and stars to guide planting, harvesting, canning and food preservation, butchering, and general farmwork. Hall explores the roots of this system in both astrology and astronomy and the profound connections felt to the stars, moon, planets, and the earth. Revealed in the personal narratives are the diverse interpretations of the practice. Some farmers and gardeners believe that the moon’s impact on crop behavior is purely scientific, while others favor a much wider interpretation of the signs and their impact on our lives.

Given that I was crouching by the side of the road 18 inches from traffic and trying not to fall into a ditch while I framed the shot, I think this one came out pretty well. (I like the palette, but I didn’t have anything to do with that.)

The narrow road to nowhere: Experimenting with haibun to sketch a walk through the woods on the cusp of autumn. (If I explain that haibun has to do with poetry, will that encourage you or deter you?)

Agalinis purpurea, purple false foxglove or gerardia, depending on which guide I use. It is too pretty to call by a homophone for an intestinal parasite, but then again it is parasitic on certain types of grasses, so maybe it’s appropriate.

Evening primrose, in the morning

I have completely bailed on the photoblog challenge, but here is one for today anyway: Bayleaf Church Road north of Raleigh, which used to continue from here before the River was dammed. Now the asphalt disappears into the lake.

Okay, I have created a new about page and one of those all-my-links pages. If you want to know more about me (and who doesn’t?) but are too lazy to type my name into the Google, have at it.

Another go at this carving, finished with milk paint, linseed oil and wax.