Saturday, August 19, 2017

"a flock, a body, the birds

moving, moving the air, moving
the bank behind the house, the snow
sieved by sun and rain, the
seeds, the fallout from trees, hedge"

from Suddenly
by D.G. Jones

Thursday, August 17, 2017

In the fall we went to the Island to spent time with some good friends.
We love the coast, but settled for a different ocean. I have been remiss 
in not posting some shots of this magical intersection of rock and sea

"He lives on the sea, as prairie cocks in the prairie; 
he hides among the waves, he climbs them as chamois 
hunters climb the Alps. For years he knows not the land; 
so that when he comes to it at last, it smells like another 
world, more strangely than the moon would to an Earthsman. 
With the landless gull, that at sunset folds her wings and is 
rocked to sleep between billows; so at nightfall, the Nantucketer, 
out of sight of land, furls his sails, and lays him to his rest, while 
under his very pillow rush herds of walruses and whales."

from Moby Dick
by Melville

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

The Plain

“Were this world an endless plain, and by sailing eastward we could for ever reach new distances, and discover sights more sweet and strange than any Cyclades or Islands of King Solomon, then there were promise in the voyage. But in pursuit of those far mysteries we dream of, or in tormented chase of the demon phantom that, some time or other, swims before all human hearts; while chasing such over this round globe, they either lead us on in barren mazes or midway leave us whelmed.”

from Moby Dick
by Melville

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

"It is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends upon his not understanding it!"

from I, Candidate for Governor: And How I Got Licked (1935), 
by Upton Sinclair

Young Grebes

                          "It does no take courage, Quixote.
                           to slaughter windmills in a windy world
                           or tilt against entrepreneurs.
                                                     It is a waste of  breath
                           to criticize vast corporations

                           The difficult thing
                                                    is to sit still
                                                    like a child in the yard
                           while the whole bleak catastrophe of winter
                           descends like a glacier into the soul."

                           from Soliloquy to Absent Friends
                           by D.G. Jones

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Zipping around the Big Slough

"This is the best—
throwing off the light covers,
feet on the cold floor,
and buzzing around the house on espresso—

maybe a splash of water on the face,
a palmful of vitamins—
but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso,"

from Morning
by Billy Collins

Friday, August 11, 2017

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

"So heavy

is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,

always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings

and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks

of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone."

from Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond
by Mary Oliver 

Thursday, August 10, 2017

The Strike

“If you keep the faith I will exist
at the edge, where your vision joins 
the sunlight and the rain: heads in the light, 
feet that go down in the mud where the truth is.” 

from Spirit of Place : Great Blue Heron 
by William Stafford

Yesterday we managed to launch the canoe out onto the big slough from the hayfield. It is a lot easier than trying to drag it across thru the brush with all the beaver runs hidden by tall grass. We saw few small birds, but we did see the Osprey, Kingfishers, Grebes, Ducks and especially the Great Blue Heron.

"And when the blue heron, breaking his long breast feathers,
sees one feather fall, does he know I will find it?
Will he see me holding it in my hand?

as he opens his wings
softly and without a sound—
as he rises and floats over the water?

And this is just any day at the edge of the pond,
a black and leafy pond without a name
until I named it."

from Mysteries, Four of the Simple Ones
by Mary Oliver