Work at the Guest House is moving along quickly now. At last, each day's progress is easy to see. And it's looking so nice! For starters, there's a whole LOT of painting going on. Some of it is sprayed on the ceilings and walls.
And some of it is done the old-fashioned way, with brushes and rollers and skilled hands and eyes.
There are what seem like miles of woodwork to be cleaned and polished with steel wool, paste wax, and a lot of elbow grease . That's my job. Say a little prayer that my neck, shoulder, elbow and hand hold up til I'm done, please! And when I'm finished with the woodwork, there's the furniture to do the same way...
Floors are being sanded...
and are finishing up beautifully.
There's even wallpaper!
The Guest House is a pretty busy place these days. There are two, three, four, and sometimes five men working, and we're still having guests. They are brave souls who are willing to tolerate an "under construction getaway." It's all very exciting, and it's mighty sweet that we're now able to see the beginning of the end.
The moon was full last night. And it was red. These photos were taken around 10:30 p.m. and they are straight out of the camera. No enhancement of anything. It was a wonderful sight indeed.
In the photos, the color is more orange than red.
But to my eyes, it was much more red than orange.
While I was watching, some wispy clouds
blew across the beautiful moon.
The moon is my favorite nighttime sight. Dreams soar when they're bathed in the magical light of the moon. Hope rises when the moonlight shines on it. And peace settles softly around the soul in the timeless mystery of moonlight. Many years ago, when I was young and already enamored with the moon, I found this poem by Max Ehrmann, whose most famous poem is Desiderata.
I would, if I could, bring back
into fashion the moon and the
stars, the dawn and the sunset.
I rarely hear anyone speak
of them. One would think these
perpetual wonders had
passed from sight.
There is peace and rest in the
contemplation of these miracles
that nature paints on the
canvas of the sky.
But we do not want peace
and rest; we are enamored of
noise and motion. A St. Vitus
dance has seized us.
Things must change. The nerves
have a limit of endurance.
Tonight, I looked at the moon
for a while. There was a
faint circle around it.
A friend came by and asked what
I was looking at. I pointed
to the moon.
"I don't see anything."
"The moon," I said.
He chuckled and went on. He will
report me as growing queer.
The mystery of the night!
And our own mystery! Who
knows what we are? No science
has yet grasped us.
The moon - the beautiful, mystical
moon - playing nightly
to empty seats!
Max Ehrmann (1872-1945)
This month there will be another full moon. When there are two full moons within the same month, the second one is called a "blue moon." Now that we've had a red one, we'll see if we get a blue one before the month is out.
To say my husband is an early riser is an understatement. Robin rarely stays in bed past 3:30 or 4:00 a.m. He considers getting up at 5:00 or 5:30 sleeping in! Needless to say, I do not get up when he does. Don't get me wrong: I like being up early, I just don't like getting up early. There's something about going from a horizontal position to a vertical one that is getting harder and harder as the years go by. Consequently, when my sweet hubby called for me just after 6:00 this morning, I was not enthused. Until, that is, I realized he was saying something about a new fawn. Instantly I was fully awake (can we arrange this for every morning??) and jumping into clothes. I raced downstairs and grabbed my camera, pleased that I remembered to put on the zoom lens for those perfect closeup shots. We walked down the driveway in the gentle foggy light of early morning. Robin had seen the doe with her new baby only moments before, and he thought he knew where to find them. On the other side of the road, a few yards down from our mailbox, we crossed the side ditch and made our way into the trees. We hadn't gone far when Robin pointed to our right and said softly, "There he is." No sooner than the words left his lips, the tiny fawn ran straight to us on wobbly legs! The little fellow was so new, it didn't know the difference between a human and its mommy. It came right up to us, nuzzling our legs in search of some breakfast. Oh, I was so tempted to bend down and pet it, or better yet, pick it up and cradle it in my arms. But we dared not even touch it, for fear that its mother would abandon her new baby. I clicked away with my camera, but alas! That wonderful zoom lens so good for closeups was way too powerful when the fawn was practically standing on my feet. The result, sadly, is that most of my photos are blurry. Rats! I've done a little editing in an effort to sharpen them, but they're still out of focus. I'm posting them anyway, though, because it was such a wondrous way to start the day!
It wasn't long before Robin noticed Mama Deer watching us intently, several yards away. We wanted to get out of the way so she would come back to get her baby. That proved difficult, however, because wherever we went, the little fawn followed us! After several attempts at leading it toward Mama and running away quickly, Robin finally outsmarted it by leading the fawn to a big tree and then running around it and back toward me.
When I went back a couple of hours later, there was no sign of Mama or Baby. That's a good thing because it means that they're together somewhere safe. But just think, Robin and I got to see this tiny creature up close, obviously born during the night and barely dry, so new and full of innocence and wonder. How sweet is that?!