Soggy Blossom

ample downpours, abundant action

Adjectives that could replace Foggy to describe our farm for the foreseeable future include soggy, marshy, and boggy.

In the sweltering swamp this land has become, there are many insects, weeds, mushrooms, and havoc wreaking vines having a celebration of abundance.

It’s a mess out there, but a highly captivating one nonetheless.

We’ve been through drought years before, and thanks to the sodden predisposition of much of this land, nearly everything pulled through quite well.

But this amount of radical rainfall has pushed us into uncharted territory, where pools and puddles are spreading, making mowing untenable, and pests pervasive.

These conditions are also yielding copious amounts of more delightful life forms, and we couldn’t be happier with the basket of fruit that makes it to the kitchen each day.

Every harvesting excursion, however, includes navigating around sporadic patches of mold, where the overwhelming saturation as of late has taken too strong a hold.

Glimpses of our first ever Paw Paws, or thoughts of enjoying July berries in January oatmeal, provide levity as my lens, and clothes, inevitably get soaked each morning.

Water loving willow is of course thriving, turning the fields into a veritable jungle.

It’s also nearly time to pull up garlic, the scapes of which are pleasantly topsy-turvy.

As the density increases more entanglements emerge, and any one patch often contains several species vying for real estate. Curious cohabitations abound.

*Milkweed + Hazelnuts, Hardy Kiwi, Lavender*

Along with Paw Paws, we’re amazed to see Hardy Kiwi take shape for the first time ever, and are astounded that our often challenged lavender has made it to another year.

Every night the Tree Frog call and response chorus erupts with its incessant trills, electrified by the recent return of fireflies en masse.

Top left, clockwise: *Elephant Garlic Blossoms, Apple, Spiderweb, Hydrangeas*

In the future, I’m sure we’ll recall 2025 as one of our wettest, hottest, and most chaotic weather years, but from those circumstances, so much life and beauty can persist.

We’ll remember all of that too.

Originally published on July 6, 2025

Fill in the Blanks

drawn to the details

Currently, finding beauty is no sweat.

In the immersive aesthetics of the acreage, it’s easy to forget how skeletal the scene was just a few months ago. But I was recently looking back through our winter posts in pursuit of a particular image, and was struck by the blankness.

*Willow - being harvested in March, and reaching new heights in July*

Now that we’ve crested the mid-year peak, all gaps have been engulfed by life. The view could not be finer, or more multifaceted, but it’s the details I’m most drawn to.

The popping potential is a mesmerizing remedy to the restlessness of real life.

Creatures, found in every corner these days, are my favorite category of discovery.

I spotted this swallowtail butterfly one morning when Baron and I were out enjoying a quiet stroll. It was so still, and lovely, that I had to sprint back to the house for my camera, hoping it wouldn’t flutter off.

I was able to snap one shot before it moved on.

Dan, enviably, encountered this Monarch in the field - the first sighting of the season.

Friend or foe, insects (and mollusks!) are curiously enchanting in their own ways, especially after reflecting on their total absence in the frosty times.

*Polyphemus Moth caterpillar on Chestnut, Slug on Wild Iris*

Uncovering new sources of color is also a delight, like this lilac hued blossom - the size of a small thimble - from the marshmallow plant.

Berries are still coming in sporadic but strong, and every harvest includes navigating our way around weeds, and sky high stinging nettle.

Always worth it.

Looking ahead, there is still much to look forward to.

Persimmons, nuts, and most apples and pears are still making their way to maturity, slowly but surely. It’s a comfort to know we’ll carry their forms onward into autumn, which is just over 70 days away.

Before we know it, the armature beneath all this action will emerge yet again.

Originally published on July 13, 2025

A Change of Pace

deceleration celebration

This summer is starkly different from last year.

In 2024 we drove to New Hampshire, Colorado and all across Pennsylvania to teach. We also flew to the UK, and drove to upstate New York to learn.

Our feet barely hit the ground long enough to absorb the action around the acreage, but this year we have a (mostly) front row seat.

Top left, clockwise: *Elderberry flowers falling, Asian Pear, Blueberries, Thimbleberry*

This past week Dan did drive to Tennessee to teach at Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts in Gatlinburg, while Baron and I kept our normal routine at home.

*Dan preparing for class, Baron & me on a stroll*

It’s hard to believe how much life has changed since he first became mine over Labor Day weekend 2010, when I was just 25. As he settles into his 15th summer, I’m grateful to be able to spend so much time taking care of our boy.

With Dan away, Bear and I enjoyed many long walks at a snail’s pace across every inch of the property. There is so much to see at the moment, which I don’t think I’d otherwise have the patience to truly notice without my slow moving companion.

Here’s a look at what I observed.

At dusk one evening I was thrilled to see the first Passionflower pop, followed by yet another spotting of a friendly Tree Frog.

At dawn, each day shifted between glowing sunrises and our quintessential fog.

Sunrise - *Lilies in the nursery, Willow in the fog*

Something I haven’t mentioned here is the ongoing snake saga we’ve experienced.

As someone who’s incredibly fearful of the legless, I’ve held back from publishing their escapades (which are all harmless, and mostly entertaining), but when I spotted this one climbing one of our tallest trees, I had to share.

Something told me to look up, and it was unnerving, but impressive, to see the 6 foot Black Rat Snake reaching 3 or 4 stories high. We’ve seen their skins swaying from these tall branches in the past, so I assume this was the start of a shedding mission.*

On a more palatable note, the Crocosmia have taken over, and we’ve enjoyed having their lanky, lovely stems around the house.

I’ve decided to use an arrangement of them for my last composition in the Pen & Ink botanical class I’m currently at the tail end of, and speaking of art, here’s my final piece for another class I just finished.

*Fireweed, photographed & drawn for Botanical Drawing III final*

As I’ve said before, working with graphite is not my favorite, so when I was surprised by this friendly turtle in the grass one morning, I was inspired to draw it in my more signature, colorful style.

It’s been a while since we’ve had a shell toting visitor pass through the property, but it felt like a reminder that the message of this moment in life is to slow down.

In idleness, there is so much to see.

*After finishing this post I found a fully intact skin that had been left on one of our trash cans - apparently the perfect anchor to slough off from. It was exactly 6 feet long!

Originally published on July 20, 2025

The End of an Era

Just a short update today.

It is with great sadness that we announce Baron’s passing this past week, which happened peacefully at home in our arms.

He joined our other love, June Bug, who was laid to rest last November.

Since 2010 they were the heart of our lives, and inseparable from one another.

Even though we were gifted with 15 wonderful years, it will never feel like enough.

All that we’ve built here at Foggy Blossom came from a desire to give our dogs the most beautiful life imaginable. We will continue to grow in honor of them.

Field Notes Archive - July 2025

Soggy Blossom