Angels in Trees

 About Angels and About Trees

Where do angels
fly in the firmament,
and how many can dance
on the head of a pin?

Well, I don't care
about that pin dance,
what I know is that
they rest, sometimes,
in the tops of trees

and you can see them,
or almost see them,
or, anyway, think: what a
wonderful idea.

I have lost as you and
others have possibly lost a
loved one,
and wonder, where are they now?

The trees, anyway, are
miraculous, full of
angels (ideas); even
empty they are a
good place to look, to put
the heart at rest---all those
leaves breathing the air, so
peaceful and diligent, and certainly
ready to be 
the resting place of 
strange, winged creatures
that we, in the world, have loved.

~~Mary Oliver.

For today...

Mysteries, Yes

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous 
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing 
 in the mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
 in alliegance with gravity
   while we ourselves dream of rising. 
How two hands touch and bonds will
 never be broken.
How people come, from the delight or the
 scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
  who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company, always, with those who say 
   "Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
   and bow their heads.

Mary Oliver 
from her book Evidence

What I know...

 ...from Mary Oliver's Poem

What Is There Beyond Knowing

What I know
I could put into a pack

as if it were bread and cheese, and carry it
on one shoulder,

important and honorable, but so small!
While everything else continues, unexplained

and unexplainable. How wonderful it is 
to follow a thought quietly

to its logical end.
I have done this a few times.

But mostly I just stand in the dark field,
in the middle of the world, breathing

in and out. Life so far doesn't have any other name

but breath and light, wind and rain.

If there's a temple, I haven't found it yet.

I simply go on drifting, in the heaven of grass

     and weeds.

Why I wake early

In the summer, I wake up without an alarm or even a nudge from anything else. My eyes open and my body says 'Wake up'

On these hot hot days I'm generally out the door as soon as it thinks about getting light out. Sometimes Charlie and I take a walk to on the gravel road to greet the day.
In some ways I think this is the best part of the day.

At least it is right now. It is cooler and the Air Quality Alerts aren't so bad.

Olive's Flower Garden

Mary Oliver says it quite well so I don't have to.

Why I Wake Early

Hello, sun in my face
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety---

...
Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

 

When I am among Trees

I know I want to create a photo book of some of the artistic images of trees that I've done this past year. 

I've gathered most of the shots and artistic renderings I've made by different methods and have been getting ready to put them together.

I had no coherent plan in mind, but like most things. Generally the mood of creativity has to smack me upside the head [mentally, that is]. 

I was still conflicted. Is it appropriate to put nice plain photos and mix in different methods of editing? I am stymied.

I was also stuck because I had nothing I wanted to put on the cover of the book.

I'd tried a few different shots and artistic designs with no luck.

I wasn't even thinking about the project when I took a photo of one of my favorite trees and ran it through Wombo Art AI and then Deep Dream AI. I was simply curious to see what would happen if I used AI to mix up two forest shots.

I merged the photos in ON1 [Photoshop is too pricey for me] and messed around.

Little did I know that this was exactly what I'd been searching for.

It looks like some sort of painting that I could imagine walking through.

I even tested it out with a title.

I was inspired by the piece of artwork enough to think about working on the project again.

When I am Among Trees is a poem by my favorite poet, Mary Oliver.

She says what I feel in one small beautiful poem.

I think now that I have this in mind, I can work on the rest of the book.
My executive decision is this. I'll mix and match photos with some of my art. After all, it isn't a 'book' per se that is going out on the NY Best Seller list. 
It will be a self published book for me to pick up and browse through and enjoy what I'd done.

We will see how the project progresses.

Some photos will be artsy and some not so artsy.
I just wanted to collect them in one place to enjoy them.

After all, trees are constantly on my mind.

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.” Mary Oliver

White Eyes by Mary Oliver

In winter

    all the singing is in

         the tops of the trees

             where the wind-bird

with its white eyes

    shoves and pushes

         among the branches.

             Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,

    but he's restless—

         he has an idea,

             and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings

    as long as he stays awake.

         But his big, round music, after all,

             is too breathy to last.

So, it's over.

    In the pine-crown

         he makes his nest,

             he's done all he can.

I don't know the name of this bird,

    I only imagine his glittering beak

         tucked in a white wing

             while the clouds—

which he has summoned

    from the north—

         which he has taught

             to be mild, and silent—

thicken, and begin to fall

    into the world below

         like stars, or the feathers

               of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,

    that is asleep now, and silent—

         that has turned itself

             into snow.

Into the Woods

Sometimes I dance to my own music that only I can hear. The squirrels laughed and chattered along with the chipmunks.
The trees swayed and applauded by dropping golden leaves on me.

So this is some of what I did. My first real self portrait shoot of sorts.
I had some fun. 
I used a 25mm lens and a self timer. I really took some crappy shots.

Yes I tossed the flip flops and went barefoot. It felt so much better. A lot of shots were not in focus but some were just fine. I even used and Art Setting called soft focus which gave the whole shot an Orton type look like in the first photo.

One of the very hard lessons I learned is that I think I messed with the art filters too much. I'd set up the camera to recognize the face. Good move. Except that the Artsy Fartsy Filter doesn't recognize the face. Soooo many shots were neat, but alas I was not in focus. 
However. That was okay for some of the shots. I didn't want close ups of my freckle face.

I learned that my glasses should be left on... no matter how much I wanted to have them off.

I have a ridge across my nose that shows up in the photos. But who is looking that close anyway? No way am I smoothing this out. 

Yes! I even applied some makeup. Yuck on reddish colored lipstick. But I used it.
Other fun notes.
Since I always wear a baseball cap outside doing work, my skin tone is different on my forehead and yes I have used sunscreen. 
Note to self. Keep the camera further away or wear a cap!

Then there is the scary person. Infrared! The eyes turn black! And of course I am holding a skull.

Then I decided to just sit in the woods and chill out for a while. 
If I stayed long enough I'd fade right into the forest.

[Layered photos one without me in it on top.] The magic of layers.

I can live with this one. I feel it is more true to myself in a way.

How I Go to the Woods by Mary Oliver

Ordinarily, I go into the woods alone, with not a single 
friend,  for they are all talkers and therefore unsuitable.

I really don't want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of praying,
as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can be invisible. I can sit on top of a
dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, 
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can almost hear the unhearable
sound of the roses singing.

If you ever have gone into the woods with me, I must love you
very much.

A sense of wonder

 

The above video is of the Robins singing. It may not be very clear and you may have to listen very hard. I took this so I could play the audio for Rich when I got home. 
My intention was to hike with Charlie along the creek and find a good spot for the Lonely Looking Bear to sit. I brought a Rabbit to be his friend.

When I got to the Ice Wall, I stopped to listen. Birds.
Bird song. Not just the Nuthatches or the Cedar Waxwings...no, and not just Cardinals either. A sound...

gosh

a sound I shouldn't hear in January!

Robins? It could NOT be!

Yet there they were. Hundreds of them flocking through the oak trees in the valley. I called Charlie in close and sat at the base of a tree. 
Just
Sat

and listened. 

You know what? I forgot about the outside world. Whatever was occurring outside that valley was not important. The bird song was important. 

Mindful

Every day
I see or I hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in a haystack 
of light.
It is what I was born for--
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world--
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy....
~~Mary Oliver

Dog Songs

After my morning routine, I sat down with a new book that had arrived. It is called Dog Songs  written by Mary Oliver. She is a renowned poet and essayist that I admire greatly.

I couldn't resist the small book.

Charlie decided it was a good idea to lay across my lap while I read.

*****

If you are a dog owner, or have ever been a dog owner. I recommend this book. The book will make you smile and it will make you cry, or at least get teared up.

Her poem The First Time Percy Came Back struck me in the heart like I never though possible.

She speaks of seeing Percy and the reader understands that Percy is no longer of this world.

Yet in her writing you know beyond any doubt that Percy has never left her heart.

I think Mary Oliver loved dogs as she loved nature. They were part of her heart and soul.

The First Time Percy Came Back

by Mary Oliver


The first time Percy came back
he was not sailing on a cloud.

He was loping along the sand as though
he had come a great way.
"Percy," I cried out, and reached to him—
those white curls—
but he was unreachable. As music
is present yet you can't touch it.
"Yes, it's all different," he said.
"You're going to be very surprised."
But I wasn't thinking of that. I only
wanted to hold him. "Listen," he said,
"I miss that too.
And now you'll be telling stories
of my coming back
and they won't be false, and they won't be true,
but they'll be real."
And then, as he used to, he said, "Let's go!"
And we walked down the beach together.

As though I had Wings....

I think there are a lot of sayings about how good a horse is for you.

I think they should include mules don't you?

What can I say?

I had a friend who was going to come riding with me. I had visitors who were going to come and visit this summer and distance themselves...who wanted to come riding with me.

So far none of that has worked.

So I walked out to the pasture yesterday to see who would come to me while I was holding a halter and lead rope.

Sunshine.

She is my all around go anywhere little mule. The mule we tried so hard to sell at one time. 

The mule we nearly gave up on when she had a severe injury.

When Rich and I started riding her at parks and other places, people started to notice her. Some even offered us a small price for a small mule.

She isn't a pony, but she isn't tall either.

She is just right for me now. Easy on easy off, and a mature mindset.

Well, put all that aside.

I've been really nervous about riding solo. I was spoiled last summer with Molly coming to visit and ride at least once or twice a week.

I realize now, I'm back to just me.

I took Siera last week on some of the steep hillsides after we toured the ridge top. She did fine.

Nothing like those long ears!

I guess I am tired of waiting and I have no one but myself to blame.

I weighed the risks of riding solo in the WildWood and decided that I can safely do it with these two.

Accidents do happen, I know that.

However.

The calm I felt after riding yesterday was immeasurable.

I felt a peace so overwhelming.

I want to think again of dangerous and noble things,

I want to be light and frolicsome,

I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,

as though I had wings.

~Mary Oliver

The Creek is my place...

Today's thoughts brought to you by Mary Oliver 

Creeks 

The dwindled creeks of summer,

Unremarkable except,

Down pasture, through woodlot,

There are so many

And keep such a pure sound

In each roiling thread,

Trickle past the knees of trees,

Dropped leaves, salamanders,

Each one scrubbing and cooling

The pebbles of its bed.

My back to the hickory, I sit 

Hours in the damp wood, listening.

It never ebbs.

Its music is the shelf for other sounds:

Birds, wind in the leaves, some tumbled stones.

After awhile

I forget things, as I have forgotten time.

Death, love, ambition ---the things that drive

Like pumps in the big rivers.

My heart

Is quieted, at rest. I scarcely feel it.

Little rivers, running everywhere,

Have blunted the knife. Cool, cool,

They wash above the bones.

I don't know what for....

It is the nature of the stone to be satisfied.
It is the nature of the water to want to be somewhere else.
~~ Mary Oliver.

It is no secret that I am a fan of Mary Oliver. I have purchased two of her books of poetry. I keep finding parts of her writings that seem to speak to me personally. Of course, I know that she did not write for just me...but to the general public of course.

How do I want to be remembered once I am no longer around? 

I know. Morbid thoughts, right? However I am in a close relationship with two people that are living slow deaths. My MIL has dementia, suspected Alzheimers and my husband was diagnosed with Vascular Dementia from his stroke in 2017. My MIL has marked memory loss and cannot function safely with her health issues safely outside a skilled nursing facility. 
My husband does function fairly well. But eventually he too will fall into 'slippage'. 

How invisible are the elderly and infirm. 
Yet how delightful they still are.

And when is it my turn?
I mean, I can't help but wonder, right?

When it is over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
~~ Mary Oliver

I have a collection of her works handy with sticky notes from something I find each time I read through her different works. I mark the place and leave a short not as to how it feels to me.

So begs the question. Will I make an impression on this world? Or my small surroundings? And does it really matter in the end?

And do I really care? 
I go into 'Nature' at least once a day as I explained recently to an ex co-worker. 
I find a way to make 2 hours available to myself in the afternoon to go for a walk or hike. I do it for the fresh air and because for 2 hours I am not caring for another, or planning...

For two hours I am 'mind free' of distractions and have only perhaps Charlie and Sven to keep track of, where my next step is, rock hopping across the creek
listening to the song of the water over the rocks
discovery
wonder
life



Yes. I think that is what Mary Oliver found too. She had poetry to express herself in eloquent words.

I have the camera to express myself.


I think that is good enough.

I leave you with this excerpt from Mary Oliver's poem
1945-1985: Poem for the Anniversary

The way I'd like to go on living in this world
wouldn't hurt anything, I'd just go on
walking uphill and downhill, looking around,
and so what if half the time I don't know
what for--

And I think that sums it up perfectly.

slow down...

So while talking to some of my CrossFit friends one of the other gals turned to me and said.

"Well, maybe this is a sign you should slow down a bit."
So I thought about that for a moment.

She was right. I had been taking on everything with a whirlwind mindset. Summer had been busy with projects that had me going in several different directions at once.

This would be a forced slow down. So I mulled things over in my mind. The winter hay was ordered to be delivered. The yard was under control, I'd taken more than one truckload of junk to the dump this summer. Rebuilt the fence in the woods, and had been taking Rich on the average of 3 to 4 days a week to appointments or PT. I visit MIL in the home at least 3 times a week too.

I was ready for a breather of sorts.

But I argued with myself that winter is for that. The slow down part, right? Who was I kidding. I loved winter especially snow when I could use my snowshoes.

Time to take a breather. Well indeed, that is easy but after 5 days I don't really like the 'sitting' around.  Getting in and out of the car took some effort and was pretty uncomfortable.

I've done a lot of stretching and walking outside on the flat. I just cannot sit still unless I am reading a good book.

I've revised my lists of to do and re-organized it. Next week will be very busy with multiple appointments and drives to Madison. At least Rich's physical therapy will be in town.

Frankly I got pretty bored watching TV. The CSI program Rich is watching now has the same theme as all of the other shows. I can ID what show is coming by the theme music being used as an introduction. Interesting that the music is old rock and roll from my teen years. Oh well, it keeps Rich busy and by good luck I found this program had 15 yrs of episodes.

I'm waiting for The Last Ocean: A Journey Through Memory and Forgetting  to arrive. I was able to read the first 40 pages and was fascinated. I found a used book of poems by Mary Oliver also. Her poetry is incredible. I am not one to just casually read poetry.

In the mean time, I am watching the goldfinches dine on my sunflowers outside the kitchen window. The humming birds are dipping into the 4 o'clocks and sipping nectar from the feeder.
I miss the morning chatter of all of the other summer birds.
That makes me sad.
I guess that is the one reason I don't care for Autumn. The birds leave and it gets too quiet outside.

Slow down.
Well by this morning after days of being 'slower', I feel much better. Amazing as to how the body can heal itself. I'm going to give a nod to CrossFit and working out as to one of the reasons I am feeling better much faster.

I will however have to make sure that feeling good doesn't mean I will go out and start pounding posts or lifting heavy things.
Perhaps it means I can go out for a walk to the woods to check on the fences and pastures.

While I was practicing ... slowing down a bit... I messed around with the Incendia fractals program and came up with some Digital Art which I haven't done in such a long time.

Here is to stopping and smelling the 4 o'clocks and admiring the day.

Poetry

Mary Oliver 
Excerpt from Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way

All important ideas must include the trees,
the mountains, and the rivers.
.

To understand many things you mus reach out
of your own condition.
.

For how many years did I wander slowly
through the forest. What wonder and
glory would I have missed had I ever been
in a hurry!
.

Beauty can both shout and whisper, and still
it explains nothing.
.

The point is, you're you, and that's for keeps.

And those are some thoughts from Mary Oliver on of my favorite poets to read for today.
Just some art made from some photos to finish things off....

My youngest son made it with his family late last night. It was quite the adventure for the to get here. My son left his wallet in a way side and a State Trooper found it and they got it back with nothing stolen.

It is sure to be an interesting few days....

Enjoy, all is very quiet here this morning.

Why do I walk the Woods?

I really wanted to be very clever and say something with deep inner meaning and thought.
I even read Rumi for some inspiration, but sadly, his words are not my words.

So instead I told my husband that I was going to wander down to the creek. I said something like "To check the trail camera." He looked at me and smiled. He was sitting and watching Netflix. I know he is in there and he smiles, but his face is innocent and almost blank.  He also knows that what I mean to say is:

"Hey honey, I'm going for a walk because I can't sit still."

He is much better now, not depressed but still the person I used to be with has become someone else. It isn't his fault. The brain won't work quite the way it used to.

I grab a copy of Mary Oliver's book "Felicity" and my camera. I say over my shoulder as I head out, "See you in a bit!"

He nods and turns back to the program he is watching.

Funny how he never watched TV and now that occupies his afternoon hours. I can't even drag him away from it unless I walk up and hit the pause button.

I clutch the book with me and wonder why I've brought it. Really? A poetry book?
And it could start to rain at any moment.

I shrug and head out across the soggy meadow, my feet going squish squish across the grass. Actually, the National Weather Service predicted 2 to 4 inches of rain again tonight. So I am worried about the desk and the bears. 

The camera bag bumps me as I negotiate the trail down the steep hill. I can hear water falling from the 'run' off to the left. But it is getting darker out so I won't explore all of what I want to. I'll save that for another day.
I have something important in mind, but the idea is not clear yet.

I get distracted and make a slight detour.

The light is fading so I work quickly. I know exactly what I want to 'shoot'. I carefully lay the book on top of the camera bag and take some shots.

I want to see how these areas will change after another flash flood.

I can hear water droplets falling out of the trees. My book has gotten water on it. I carefully wipe it off and continue downstream towards 'the beach'.

I pick a rock to take a shot on. I need to find a good spot to 'shoot' from now until Spring. I want to see how this looks in all seasons.

Well, that is not what I came for not really.

I stand up and hold the book in my hands.

There is the desk.
It is very heavy and shouldn't wash away, but I don't want it to get damaged.

So I move it.
I carefully set the Artist Conches that the kids had drawn on aside and put them inside the desk.

I move the desk up above the creek to where it will be safe.

Off in the distance I hear a rumble.

I wipe off the desk and sit down.

And I flip open the book.
I read:

A Voice from I Don't Know Where

It seems you love this world very much.
  "Yes," I said. "This is a beautiful world."

And you don't mind the mind, that keeps you
   busy all of the time with its dark and bright wonderings:
   "No I'm quite used to it. Busy, busy,
   all of the time."

And you don't mind living with those questions,
   I mean the hard ones, that no one can answer?
   "Actually, they're the most interesting."

And you have a person in your life whose hand
   you like to hold?
   "Yes I do."

It must surely, then, be very happy down there 
   in your heart.
   "Yes," I said. "It is."

~ Mary Oliver

I close the book.

I now know why I walked the woods today.