A whole family of beautiful little goldfinches at the feeder, freshly feathered out for summer, squabbling over perches as siblings will do.
Finished this new footstool in red grandis and ebonized white oak. Love the way the ebonizing brings out the grain on the legs.
Currently reading: Poppleton in Fall: An Acorn Book (Poppleton #4) by Cynthia Rylant 📚 After finishing my third thousand-page book in the last two months I thought I would read something a little lighter. Seriously, this is the best book ever. (Well, this and Bleak House.)
Homeschooling: A Valediction Take the work seriously, but do not take yourself too seriously.
The subject of biodiesel came up last week, and in explaining the concept to my daughter I remembered how much I’m drawn to it—as opposed to electric cars, which I instinctively distrust… Biodiesel people vs. electric car people
Baby tomatillos! 🌱
At the feeder outside my window a bluebird has brought its fledgling to learn to forage for itself. The kid, perched by a bounty of safflower and peanut, is cheeping from its yellow-bordered maw, while the parent patiently pecks seeds from the bin and puts them in the little mouth.
This kind of thing happens now and again in late spring, and it is one of my favorite sights in all of nature. Because it makes me feel, as a parent, so much less alone.
The new chair is finally ready for paint!
In Which the Poet Fails to Grasp His Meaning
The dry leaf crumbling in the toddler’s fist, The cloud-form wind-rent at the careless naming, The fluttering dream that flees the day’s periphery, The memory-scent long rotted from its root: The lover hard pursued will not be kissed Nor love be raveled out from life’s polyphony; The truth, that beaten dog, is loath to trust us ’Til it lay its head unbidden at our foot. And still with art the cunning mind constructs