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Monday, October 10, 2011

Springfield Bog, Prairie Trail, Springfield Twp, Ohio

View from the Prairie Trail

Can anyone identify (1)?"

New England Aster

Queen Anne's Lace

Black-eyed Susan

Woodland path

Daisy Fleabane

Red-clover

Can anyone identify (2)?

Chickory with a visitor

Evening primrose?

Soybean field

Posted by Picasa Interesting Feature:  The Continental Divide passes through Springfield Bog.  Rain falling on the northeastern corner of the park ends up in Lake Erie.   Rain flowing on the southern and western portions of the park end up in the Ohio River, and eventually the Chesapeake Bay.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Picking Raspberries


Posted by Picasa After my art class, we went to pick raspberries.  Elaine's getting a bumper crop this year.  I came home and did a quick watercolor sketch while gabbing on the phone to my daughter.  I think I do better painting when I'm NOT paying attention LOL.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Monday, September 19, 2011

Rosy Dawn and Purple Dusk




Posted by Picasa My art book was right.  Morning light is rosy and evening light is purple.  I wonder why that is.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Windsor Mills Covered Bridge, Ashtabula County, Ohio



Windsor Mills Covered Bridge on Warner Hollow Road, Windsor, Ohio.  One of about 16 covered bridges in Ashtabula County, Ohio.  This Town Lattice style bridge spans Phelps Creek, a tributary off of the Grand River.
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Wednesday, July 06, 2011

Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Moreton-in-Marsh


We stayed overnight at the White Hart Royal Hotel in Moreton-in-Marsh, across the street from Mrs. T. Potts tearoom.  Moreton-in-Marsh features in a number of Agatha Raisin novels by M. C. Beaton.  Agatha Raisin is a 50-something-year-old sleuth whom reviewers liken to "a cross between Miss Marple, Auntie Mame, and a pit bull."  If you need to escape into a British cozy mystery with a touch of spoof, I heartily recommend this series.  We also recommend Mrs. Pott's toasted teacakes!
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Market Hall


Market Hall in Moreton-in-Marsh.  Each of the Cotswolds villages we passed through seemed to have their own distinctive market hall at the end of a village green.
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