nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

Posts Tagged ‘pencil drawing

Arthur – caution: men working in trees

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A milestone of our 2014 summer was certainly Hurricane Arthur (July 5).  For an account of our encounter with Hurricane Arthur, see: https://nichepoetryandprose.wordpress.com/2014/07/14/arthur-during-the-storm/ and https://nichepoetryandprose.wordpress.com/2014/07/16/arthur-after-the-storm/ .

For six days after the storm we were without electricity and learned to live a different life, deciding how to allocate the power from our small generator and bringing water in from diverse places.  The biggest long-term result of the storm, however, was the damage done to our big red maple.

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The maple is at our front entry way.  It has grown from a small sapling – my husband could circle it with thumb and forefinger when we built the house 35 years ago – to a huge tree.  It is our best producer at maple syrup time and spreads a carpet of red leaves in a perfect circle in our driveway.  Best of all, it has a ‘voice’.  When I arrive home or leave, it ‘squeaks’ to me, the result of two branches rubbing together in the slightest breeze.

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After the storm, we congratulated ourselves on how few of our trees were damaged.  Then I looked out of the den window and saw – the winds had not spared the red maple – one of the big branches had a wide split in the wood.

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At first, my husband thought he could take the big limb down himself.  But after removing some of the smaller branches, it was obvious that trying to cut the branch ourselves would be dangerous.  The tree is close to the house and power lines and there was no easy way to safely control the fall of the branch.

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We decided to turn to the experts and called Treecologic, since they are fully insured.  They also have a trained arborist and an excellent reputation.  Their Vision statement is ‘promoting a safe & healthy urban forest’, so they were the tree removal company for me!  For more information on the company, see  http://www.treecologic.ca/.

Since there have been so many people in the Fredericton area with downed trees because of Arthur, we knew it might be some time before Treecologic could help us.  We spent August through October keeping vehicles away from the risk zone under the tree.  On Halloween night, we put up ‘Caution’ tape to keep the spooks from danger.  And every day I tiptoed to our front door, convinced I would hear a crack as the branch came down on my head!

Then, as promised,  Treecologic arrived, ladder, chain saws, climbing ropes and all.  They worked for almost three hours, taking down a big white pine tree planted too close to the house and trimming branches from some of our other maples.

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Then the arborist fixed a line in the highest branches of the red maple, put on his climbing belt and hoisted himself into the tree.

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Every move he made was calculated for safety and for the health of the maple.  Working his way through the tree, using a very sharp pruning saw, he gradually removed the smallest branches, including some which were scraping against our roof.

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At first I felt alarmed to see a man in our very tall tree, but after realising how carefully he worked, I began to enjoy watching the process.  To be an arborist, I now know, requires an understanding of the tree’s biology and health, but also dexterity, strength, flexibility and fearlessness.

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At the last, he tackled the split branch, first removing remote branches, then finishing with the chainsaw from a ladder.  Great work, Treecologic !

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Our tree will take a while to recover from it’s adventure with the hurricane.  Losing almost a third of its canopy will mean a couple of years of rest before another pruning.  No tapping for maple sap for the next few springs!  Meanwhile, the pruning has given us lots of hard wood for next year’s wood stove and, once they dry out, lots of kindling and twigs for my campfires!  Some will go into our wood chipper to add to the soft surface for our trails.

And, in case you were wondering, the tree still has its ‘voice’ since the branches that rub together remain!

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Copyright  2014  Jane Tims 

 

 

 

Written by jane tims

November 12, 2014 at 7:41 am

crows too

with 6 comments

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Grim Women

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1.

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the crows burden the trees

gather their iron grits

criticize one another

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they slip through gaps

in the matrix

and are gone

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their wings are bruises

on the afternoon

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their wind is deliberate

and desperate

hardened to the goal

2.

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in black

grim women

watch one-another

hide the key

beneath the doormat

and glide

towards the town

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Published as ‘Grim Women’, Women & Environments International Magazine (WEIM) No 86/87 Spring/Summer, 2011, p 8

Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

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Written by jane tims

October 31, 2014 at 7:57 am

October moon

with 2 comments

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moon escape

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above the woods

in sunset’s dying

the moon rose –

orange

and terrifying

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caught in the trees

with the night wind’s sighing

drowned in the lake mists –

mystifying

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captured in the yellow

of a barn owl’s eye

escaping on a wild bird’s

flight to the sky

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a pool of light

where the hounds are lying

ghosts on the line

where the shirts are drying

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a silhouette

for a coyote’s cry

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Sunpoke Lake, October 2011

Sunpoke Lake, October 2011

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Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

 

Written by jane tims

October 29, 2014 at 7:22 am

Posted in off-planet

Tagged with , , , , ,

campfire

with 4 comments

I love a campfire.  If you visit our property, you would know this because there is a fire pit for every occasion.

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December 26, 2011, ‘watching the fire’, Jane Tims

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We have a stone fireplace, made from big granite cobbles, for serious fires.  We have a chiminea on the back deck, perfect for a quick fire in spring or summer.  And now I have a metal fire pit on the front lawn.

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first fire in my metal fire pit - leaves and wood  wet after yesterday's rain

first fire in my metal fire pit – leaves and wood wet after yesterday’s rain

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Fire is insubstantial yet so powerful.  It can be dangerous but soothing.  When I sit in front of a fire, watching the flames, I feel I am sharing community with every person who has ever tended a campfire.

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a summer campfire during a visit with family and friends

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Copyright 2014  Jane Tims

 

Written by jane tims

October 27, 2014 at 7:30 am

harvesting colour – blackberry red and pink

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Autumn is officially here; summer up and left last week.  My complaints are suddenly of chilly evenings, not too-warm nights!  But with this season comes a series of dyeing projects I have been looking forward to – dyeing with berries and autumn leaves.

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berries harvested at our cabin in 2013

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At our summer property, we have blackberries in profusion.  They ripen slowly over a period of three weeks and we eat our fill.  This year I decided to sacrifice a few for the dye pot.

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Dyeing with berries is easy.  I brought three cups of berries to a simmer in three liters of water for about an hour.  The strained liquid was a bright red, the colour of ripe cranberries …

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dye from blackberries

dye from blackberries

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I dyed alum-treated wool with a slow simmer and an overnight soak.  The result was a pale pink, a welcome addition to my collection of ‘mostly brown’ …

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pink wool dyed with blackberries is front and center ... other wools are dyed with (clockwise) oak, meadowsweet, bugleweed, tansy, lily-of-the-valley, beet root, and in the center, carrot tops

pink wool dyed with blackberries is front and center … other wools are dyed with (clockwise) oak (dark brown), meadowsweet (orange), bugleweed (brown), tansy (gold), lily-of-the-valley (grey), and beet root (deep pink), and in the center, carrot tops (green)

 

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I also tried dying linen and cotton with the blackberry dye, and these gave me the burgundy I had hoped for …

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back left to front: wool, linen, cotton and another cotton, dyed with blackberries

back left to front: wool, linen, cotton and another cotton, dyed with blackberries

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I think I will be using the pink/burgundy cotton as the backing for the small ‘harvesting colour’ quilt I plan to make.  I’ll hem the linen and use it in my kitchen.

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March 18, 2012 ‘blackberries’ Jane Tims

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Copyright 2014  Jane Tims

 

Written by jane tims

September 24, 2014 at 7:32 am

glimpses of country life – drying day

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For the last two weeks, I have continued on my stationary bike, touring (virtually) through the Cornwall countryside.  Since I last reported, I have gone from Rinsey Croft to the coastal town of Prussia Cove.  Since the road does not run along the coast, I have spent most of my biking miles travelling on short roads from the highway to various coastal towns.  In this stretch, I biked for 150 minutes, and saw about 9 km of the Cornwall countryside.

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Rinsey to Prussia Cove

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As I bike, I love seeing the vignettes of country life captured by Street View.  Gates, of course, and stone walls.  Cows and horses grazing in the meadows.  People hiking along the roads and working in their gardens.  And a line of washing, hung out on the line to dry.

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September 7, 2014  'drying day'  acrylic 20 X 24  Jane Tims

September 7, 2014 ‘drying day’ acrylic 20 X 24 Jane Tims

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Reminds me of home.

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Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

remembering place – Grade Four, part one

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School-wise, Grade 4 was a fragmented year.  I began the year in Medicine Hat at Webster Niblock Elementary.  And then my family moved to a new community forty miles away, and I completed Grade 4 in the school there.

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Webster Niblock Elementary School front yard

Webster Niblock Elementary School front yard

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I have lots of memories of Webster Niblock.  First, there was the walk to school (red path in the aerial photo below).  On one side of the road were houses, but on the other side of the road was prairie.  Today there is a row of houses on that side of the street, but in 1963 the prairie was undeveloped and raw to its very edge.  I was not allowed to wander on the prairie by myself, or to take a shortcut to school.  Later my Dad told me he was always afraid of rattle snakes when we lived in the west.  But I could see the plants that grew at the roadside.

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my route from home to school

my route from home to school

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I still remember the orange-red Prairie Mallow, also known as Scarlett Globemallow (Sphaeralcia coccinea), and the Prickly-pear cactus (Opuntia) with its grape-like berries.  At the corner where I turned from Second Avenue to 11th Street (blue star) was an expanse of pineapple weed (Matricaria Discoidea) – I don’t remember picking or smelling them … to me, they looked like a miniature forest of pine where tiny people could walk.  I think my interest in plants must have begun during those years, encouraged by my Mom who knew the names of all the flowers.

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'Pineapple Weed'

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I also remember specific conversations with my best friend Laureen as we walked to school, including the disagreements we had.  I remember that we talked about my moving away.  We decided we would write letters to one another and we laughed that we would probably carry on our childish fights in those letters.

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Another place I remember well is the ‘courtyard’ where we played at morning and afternoon recess (yellow star).  Spinning tops were all the rage and my Dad made me a wooden top from an empty spool of thread and a matchstick.  We also played marbles and I always lost.

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It was common practice to bring a ‘recess’, a treat to eat at the morning recess break.  My Mom usually sent a small square of fudge wrapped in wax paper or part of an apple.  When a new little girl joined our class, my Mom, who wanted me to make friends, was determined I would be nice to her.  Every day Mom sent a ‘recess’ treat for the little girl.  And every day, I would run up to her, shove the treat into her hand and run away.  I was generally shy and I don’t ever remember of saying a word to her.  I often think about her – today she is a woman of about sixty years who may, from time to time, remember a peculiar child who used to bring her a square of fudge every day and run away.

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Webster Niblock Elementary School rear yard

Webster Niblock Elementary School rear yard (we played with tops in the area by the red post at the corner of the school)

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Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

Written by jane tims

August 11, 2014 at 7:19 am

aromatic spring

with 4 comments

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November 9, 2011 ‘Peltoma Lake’ Jane Tims

 

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meadow aromatic

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ozone lightning, late

waters cede, shoots

of cattail merge

end of day, end of June

fireflies, mosquito nights

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lake-land meadow seeps

wetland meets nostril

marsh musk percolates

half sour, half sweet

methane ooze, decay

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damp fiddleheads unfurl

bird beaks simmer

in duckweed soup

skin of salamander, frog

steeplebush, meadowsweet

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angels crave human years, allow

their pores release, scent imitates

reek of sweat, of work

tears mingle with perfume

aftershave and powder

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Oct. 9, 2011 ‘Reeds and reflection’ Jane Tims

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Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

Written by jane tims

June 13, 2014 at 7:32 am

writing weekend

with 4 comments

This weekend, I will be attending WordSpringWordSpring is the annual spring meeting and workshop of the New Brunswick Writers’ Federation.  I will be reading some of the poetry from my ‘harvesting colour’ manuscript and I will get another eye on part of my novel at a Blue Pencil Café.

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Preparations for the weekend made me think of a poem I wrote after the workshop in Saint Andrews a few years ago …

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October 9, 2011 ‘Moon through the trees’ Jane Tims

encounters

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on a windy night

in Saint Andrews, a toad

hop-toddies across the road,

bewildered

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and on Prince of Wales, a deer

pauses on the sidewalk, stares

up the hill, and I hesitate

before driving on

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in the Algonquin, a light

switches on, in the room I know is mine

and a couple huddles on the open porch,

and leaves, mottled, skid

along the street

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Copyright  2014  Jane  Tims

harvesting colour – soaking the bark

with 11 comments

Birch bark is on my top ten list of natural phenomena.  Just the outer covering of a tree, but for me it has so many associations.

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'Yellow Birch Bark' revision

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Walking in a stand of birch is an experience like no other.  The trees are ghosts, wavering and pale, unable to speak but capable of subtle quiet communication.  In the slightest breeze, they whisper in short syllables, dry murmurings I cannot quite understand.

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Birch bark is magical.  Unravelled from its tree by a little tugging of the wind.  Like paper, in thin dry sheets.  Covered in unreadable script.  You know removing the bark could be dangerous for the tree but it lures you, encourages you to reach out and strip it away in unbroken, unblemished reels.

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Such a useful tree: birch bark canoes, tinder for a campfire, sweet sap from yellow birch, the wintergreen scent of crushed yellow birch twigs.  And now, the promise of colour.

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Using bark as dyestuff requires time rather than heat.  Jenny Dean (Wild Colour, New York, 2010) suggests soaking the bark for days, even weeks to extract the first colour.  She says never to boil bark since heat may release tannins and dull any resulting colour.  From her book, I expect birch bark to yield colours ranging from purple to pinkish-red.

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birch bark, donated by my brother-in-law

birch bark, donated by my brother-in-law

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I am so grateful to my brother-in-law for allowing me to use the birch bark he has collected as he works on next winter’s stove-wood supply.  I am sure he was saving it for a project of his own.

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strips of birch bark layered in the dyepot

strips of birch bark layered in the dyepot

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To start, I stripped the sheets of bark into narrow pieces and set it to soak in cool water in my big dye pot.

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strips of birch bark, set to soak in water

strips of birch bark, set to soak in water

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I intend to leave it for a month before I take the next step of simmering the bark and dying my wool.

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requesting the favour of a reply

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these leafless trees

brush against

a linen sky

ink strokes

on rice paper

letters penned

at midnight

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hidden in the hollow

heart of an oak

afraid to reach in

to feel only

curls of birch bark

desiccated leaves

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these trees

all seem the same

empty envelopes

parchment ghosts

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branches tangled

messages

lost

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black spruce scribbled on sky

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Poem previously posted 19/08/2011

Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

Written by jane tims

April 25, 2014 at 7:18 am