Mother’s Day never qualified as a ‘real’ holiday growing up in my family. My mother, whether being stoic, passive-aggressive, just plain honest or some mixture of the three always insisted that there was no need for such a day. “Every day is mother’s day” she’d say enigmatically, absolutely throwing me for a loop each time she did. But I never took her to task on it. I’m pretty sure we made her cards nonetheless. Even today I ended up making a bouquet for her and giving a small gift of a scarf – just because. We stopped in for a quick hello, because at this point in the game, how can we not? Now me, myself, I admit I don’t mind folks giving me some props and thanks for doing what I do – because I really do feel that my role is very important, and I feel that I do a pretty good job at it too. I don’t mean to sound self-righteous about it – but this is the most important job of my life, so a little respect from the world at large not such a bad idea. Nuff on that.
How about a couple of scrapbook entries to mark our day? I apologize if my photographic accounts are getting a bit too much or a bit tedious, but if it doesn’t get documented here, it doesn’t get documented anywhere. This is what my kid has to look back on someday. (Hope he feels more gratitude than regret when that time comes!) So thanks for bearing witness, and feel free to overlook this post entirely if you’ve had enough. Here’s hoping you mothers didn’t have to cook, clean or put things away today – unless you felt absolutely compelled to do so (I did).
These things are downright sexy, are they not? Good lookin yolks… And just think, this is how we all begin; as our mother’s eggs…
What’s better than yolks fresh from the farm? Bernaise sauce made from those fresh yolks! Here’s my made-to-order ‘deconstructed’ Eggs Benedict. This particular batch of Bernaise kicked ass. And it’s topped with fresh-cut chives from the garden. !!
Like clockwork – they first arrive here on Mother’s Day each year.
Next up, the chicks need to meet the great outdoors.
Still cute and fuzzy – but more than twice as big as they were two weeks ago.
Seriously guys? Ten open acres and you’re all hanging out in the porch? Sheesh.
The last glimpse of Saratoga Lake we’ll get ’til the leaves fall off the trees again.
Now we’re deep in the swampy area of my folks’ woods. Not easy getting around here. We were in search of a huge boulder Andrew and I would play on as kids – only difference is we came out here all those years ago in the wintertime when this was all one big sheet of ice. The ice made it much easier to get back here. After some searching, we didn’t find the rock, but we did find other sweet little diversions along the way…
Like the Marsh Marigold
And very few standing trees against an amazing, cloudless sky…
On the walk home we found what was left of a raccoon that had been at the side of the road for nearly a year.
Reminded us of a Dr. Seuss poem about ‘shin bone pinning’…
Having broken my neck once, I’m partial to this spinal remnant
Elihu gathers fiddleheads for our supper
Fuzzy wuzzy
This is the house where we Conants spent our summers (winter vacations too). Uncle Andrew now lives there.
With the shadow of the Old House to the right, Mom’s place is at the top of the driveway, and the Studio is on the left.
Elihu shows mom our bone treasures
Good old Annie, named so as she was found by my parents on their wedding anniversary, now many years ago.
Nothing like that salmon-pink of the flowering Quince
Just perfect.
Two kinds of ferns to avoid, and one kind to eat.
After some labor-intensive de-fuzzing, they’re ready to be boiled. Next they’re sauteed in butter, and served with a squeeze of lemon. If not cooked well enough they can cause some tummy problems (that’s the nicer way of saying they can be ‘slightly toxic’.)
Nothing toxic here, yet. (The possible threat – however miniscule – did inspire a couple of very entertaining death scenes at the dinner table.)
We’re done with our lovely day. After a call to the other grandma in Illinois, we settle in for a few more chapters of our favorite Springtime tradition of all – The Burgess Bird Book for Children. Good-night all!
The Hillhouse 
Personally, I like these photo essays a lot. Not only are they interesting and revealing, but they can be a nice break from more word heavy posts. ;~) Love those eggs! “Stand up yokes” as my buddy T-Poe would say. Can’t buy eggs like that in the store. Love those chickens. So funny. And fiddleheads! I used to love those when I visited my dad’s family in Northern Maine. Very fond memories. Served with fresh caught brook trout in the Summer. Yum. Looks like a great day. As we used to say in the 70’s: Right on mama! GB
;-)
ok,now I get why the squiggle and not the line….;~)
I love your photos too – I am the same, I worry that the things I take photos of everyone else will not “get” but hey, it is your blog my dear – your space to show the world through your eyes. I love yellow yolks too and every one of these photos (especially as our scenery is so different down here). My mum didn’t let us do the mother’s day thing and I explained to my confused husband (his mum is all about the obligation mother’s day) that I consider mother’s day not to be a day off from being a mother but a day off from all the things that prevent me being the kind of mother I want to be (you know the one that doesn’t have acres of laundry or washing up or cleaning to do when all they want to do is curl up in the morning sun with the kids and some books?). If you get to see the Ben Stiller movie ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’ do, there is a photographer in there that takes pictures of what he sees as picture worthy….awesome cinematography :D