Tuesday, September 15, 2015

"These are the stories the dogs tell, when the fire
burns high and the wind is from the north"

from City
by Clifford Simak  

A quick stop in Vancouver, which means the Sylvia Hotel on 
English Bay, and dogs on the seawall, 

and gulls on rocks 

rocks without gulls,  

and sea
washed pebbles,

the mysteries of the deep, Cthulhu?  

the last flowers of summer 

Favorite eateries 

and funky boutiques.

"There is mystery here, but a soft, sure mystery that is 

understood and only remains a mystery because I want
it so. The mystery of the nighthawk against a darkening sky, 
the puzzle of the firefly along the lilac hedge."

from Time and Again
by Clifford Simak

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

"Recall, reader if ever in the mountains 
a mist has caught you, through which you could not 
see except as moles do through the skin
how when the moist vapours began to dissipate,
the sphere of the sun enters freely through them ,
and your imagination will quickly see how, at first 
I saw the sun again, which is now at its setting"

from Purgatory X11, 1-9
by Dante translator Charles S. Singleton

One morning at the cabin I looked out so see a stream of
fog running thru a low spot where the land dips between the
 ridge where the cabin sits before it rises again, slightly to form 
a finger like peninsula jutting into the slough. The fog moved out
through the brush along the edge of the slough becoming a water
fall of mist pouring down the bank to the water and eventually 
dancing like the narrows before burning off in the morning sun.
Fog is the stuff of magic and mystery.

"In the morning, mist comes up from the sea by the cliffs 
beyond Kingsport. White and feathery it comes from the deep 
to its brothers the clouds, full of dreams of dank pastures 
and caves of leviathan. And later, in still summer rains on the 
steep roofs of poets, the clouds scatter bits of those dreams,
that men shall not live without rumor of old strange secrets, 
and wonders that planets tell planets alone in the night. 
When tales fly thick in the grottoes of tritons, and conchs in 
seaweed cities blow wild tunes learned from the Elder Ones, 
then great eager mists flock to heaven laden with lore, and 
oceanward eyes on tile rocks see only a mystic whiteness, 
as if the cliff's rim were the rim of all earth, and 
the solemn bells of buoys tolled free in the aether of faery. "

from The Strange High House in the Mist
by H.P. Lovecraft

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

"Mine are the night and morning, 
The pits of air, the gulf of space, 
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon, 
The innumerable days."

from Song of Nature
by Emerson

On today's canoe trip eagle or osprey we are not sure?

It was big. Very Big. Roc?

"Our paddles keen and bright, 
Flashing like silver; 
Swift as the wild goose flight, 
Dip, dip, and swing.

Dip, dip, and swing them back, 
Flashing like silver; 
Swift as the wild goose flight, 
Dip, dip and swing."

The Paddle Song

Monday, August 17, 2015

" Fields around are yellowing into harvest
nestlings and fingerlings are sky and water borne"

from Wilderness Gothic
by Al Purdy

Some recent highlights.

The swallow chicks from the nests by the living room eaves
left the nest a couple weeks ago and were feed in the trees by 
the porch. You could really see the dominance of the larger

Also shot for the living room window, a White-Throated Sparrow
feeds a Brown Headed Cowbird chick. The White-Throated 
Sparrow is considered a rare cowbird host according to The 
Birders Handbook by Enrlich et al.

A young coyote approaches us on our walk. The parents 
apparently stash them somewhere while they go to hunt. Like
teenagers everywhere they then unlock the door and go to the 
mall. A couple of rocks in its direction convinced it that people
and their dogs are not something to approach. 

This summer we went on four studio trails, where you drive thru 
the country and artists welcome you into their homes and studios
to share their work. It give you wonderful insight in how creative
people can be. We bought painting, pottery and quilts as well,
but we really likes these wooden items by three different artists.
I have long wanted to carve birds so I love the Wren I bought, now
I have to get busy.

Finally the local lake in the evening, my wife and her
family fished here on Sundays so it is a special place
for her.

"This is, I think,
what holiness is:
the natural world,
where every moment is full

of the passion to keep moving.
Inside every mind
there's a hermit's cave
full of light,

full of snow,
full of concentration.
I've knelt there,
and so have you,

hanging on
to what you love,
to what is lovely.
The lake's

shining sheets
don't make a ripple now,
and the stars
are going off to their blue sleep,

but the words are in place --
and the fish leaps, and leaps again
from the black plush of the poem,
that breathless space."

               from At The Lake
                by Mary Oliver

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

"Let it go
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don't you know
The hardest part is over
Let it in
Let your clarity define you
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels 

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists and turns of fate
Time falls away
But these small hours
These small hours still remain 

Let it slide
Let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine
Till you feel it all around you
And i don't mind
If it's me you need to turn to
We'll get by

It's the heart that really matters in the end"

from Little Wonders
Theme song from " Meet the Robinsons"
composed by Rob Thomas

Monday, July 20, 2015

"But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; 
and the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; 
they have been making hay somewhere under the slopes 
of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers are sleeping among the 
new-mown hay."

from Moby Dick
 By Herman Melville

My brother in law Ralph cuts the hay.

"Far to the north, or indeed in any direction
strange mountains and creatures have always lurked-
elves, goblins,trolls, and spiders:-we
encounter them in dread and wonder,

But once we have tasted far streams, touched the gold
found some limit beyond the waterfall
a season changes, we come back , changed
but safe, quiet, graceful."

     from Allegiances
               by William Stafford

Saturday, July 18, 2015

"My soul would sing of metamorphoses.
But since, o gods, you were the source of these
bodies becoming other bodies, breathe
your breath into my book of changes: may
the song I sing be seamless as its way
weaves from the world's beginning to our day."

                     from The Metamorphoses of Ovid
                             translated by Allen Mandelbaum

I have posted photos of the vixen and her three cubs at the farm
previously this summer. Thursday my mother in law mentioned she
had found a fox tail in garden, and we wondered who might have been
responsible Willow the farm dog or possibly a coyote, who do prey on
foxes. Friday morning my wife and I drove past the farm lane and 
encountered four foxes. seemed to have tails so we have no idea
whose was in the garden.

"In a cave somewhere they carved an animal 
jumping: that leap stayed."

             from They Carved An Animal
           by William Stafford