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.

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.

Mayapples

 

Down in the shady woodland
Where the fern fronds are uncurled,
A host of green umbrellas
Are swiftly now unfurled.
Do they shelter fairy people
From sudden pelting showers
Or are the leaves but sunshades
To shield the waxen flowers?

"Mandrakes" by Minnie Curtis Wait

I thought this was a good poem for today....

Poetry and art?

I had some sort of epiphany while studying a certain type of photography. I've done macro before. I love macro in every sense because it fits with the world around me.

But I wanted to take it to the next level. 

Maybe Macro is the wrong word because it isn't truly macro macro like itty bitty insects and microscopic items [although I really love tiny tiny things to photograph!]. 

I think 'Artistically' different may be what I want to say or

...try.

I even decided to try my hand at creatively writing a blurb -- in the poetic sense to describe what the feeling was when I took the shot.

This whole process uses more thinking skills than I've previously done.

Maybe it is just a phase or a distraction to keep my mind occupied during the 'brown' month of November. It is fun though.

I sway
whispering secrets
untold
with the 
zephyr's sighing song...

The sun golden light

illuminates 

the last fern.

Autumn whispers...

Miss Aurora introduced me to her fascination of grasses a couple of years ago. Since then, I've stopped and looked at grasses and tried to figure out the best way to make them something special when seen through my camera lens.

Catching the sunlight
the grasses sway
in the wind
waiting for
the seasons to

pass

In a sense, that is exactly what grasses do. The have beautiful seed heads that the winds spread over the ground. The seeds wait for spring to arrive and sprout up with new life.

So fall in a sense is just a way for nature and plants to take a break so they can resume their jobs come spring.

These photos were taken while Aurora and I explored the Old Settler's Trail. I enjoy walking with another visual artist that introduces me to new ways of looking at nature's beauty.

And of course, I could not resist taking along our Minifigs to represent us hiking together.

How to take a photo of Minifigures in the wild by Aurora:

...with Charlie's help of course!

Have a safe and wonderful weekend.

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.

 

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.

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.