" A life's partitions are internal to it,

and of no significance beyond its course."

from La Duree

by John Koethe

This is a Wild Wood indeed.

The Crooked Trees, Crooked Bush, Twisted Trees or the Crooked Trees of Alticane are a grove of deformed trembling aspen trees of type Populus tremuloides Michx. found in Saskatchewan, Canada. They are found approximately twenty kilometers north-north-west of the town of Hafford, Saskatchewan and just over five kilometers south-west of Alticane.

The trees, prominent in Saskatchewan folklore, are dramatically different from the un-twisted aspens just across the road. Explanations have been offered which include various paranormal factors. However, cuttings from these trees, propagated in Manitoba, exhibit the same pattern of twisted growth, suggesting that the cause is rooted in genetics, possibly the result of a mutation.^[1][2]

from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crooked_Trees

"Whenever one drifted petal leaves the tree- 
Though white of bloom as it had been before 
And proudly waitful of fecundity- 
One little loveliness can be no more; 
And so must Beauty bow her imperfect head 
Because a dream has joined the wistful dead! "

from A Dream Lies Dead

by Dorothy Parker

And if you visit, stop at the A&M Bistro and Bakery in Hafford

for soup and a sandwich, at the best lunch spot on the prairies

 And take home some baking.

While we have stayed here in late August before this is the first year we have heard geese calling loudly from the far slough. This year we did not see many swallows around the cabin, some of their nests occupied by phoebes instead. There were also very few snakes in the hay field and none by the cabin. Each year is different, but some creatures are so entrenched within oure sense of place that their absence is like notes missing from a favourite tune. A discord season.

"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things."

from Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

The Heron

"As though one's childhood were a small midwestern town
Some forty years ago, before the elm trees died.
September was a modem classroom and the latest cars,
That made a sort of futuristic dream, circa 1955.
The earth was still uncircled. You could set your course
On the day after tomorrow. And children fell asleep
To the lullaby of people murmuring softly in the kitchen,
While a breeze rustled the pages of Life magazine,
And the wicker chairs stood empty on the screened-in porch."

from From the Porch
by John Koethe

The Friday before last, we had family over in the evening. We were sitting on the screened-in porch when a young blue heron, the first we have seen on the slough this summer appeared. It fished directly below us and in the course of 1 or 2 hours in an  area few metres square it caught at least four possibly more Tiger Salamanders. We are lucky to see one a year, often crossing a grid road, so we were amazed at the profusion, much less the size of the animals it found in such a small area. Needless to say the heron has returned on a number of evenings, but I am unsure if it's luck is holding.

"And even as it deepens something turns away,

As though the day were the reflection of a purer day

In which the summer's measures never ended.

The eye that seeks it fills the universe with shapes,

A fabulist, an inquisitor of space

Removed from life by dreams of something other than this life,

Distracted by the bare idea of heaven,"

from Gil's Cafe

by John Koethe

Blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see

"We do know this much:
that it billowed white at the mountainous top
and its flat underside was the grey of headstones;
that it slid onto the land and felt its way
over the contours of several western states, 
always moving eastward, from left to right
the way eyes move over print
as if it were reading the earth with its blind shadow. 

Otherwise, it did nothing
but allow itself to be blown through the high cold 
atmosphere,
though it was always changing shapes
and assumed in its lifetime the form
of Australia, the head of an enormous dog,
a sheep on the run, a hippo with its mouth agape, 
and even the camel that passed through the eye of Hamlet. "

from Biography of a Cloud

by Billy Collins

"Today was the first time in a couple of weeks that the smoke pulled back enough to allow us blue sky. We planted some volunteer spruce that we got from the farm and raided Rigmor's garden for cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots and corn. And the harvested hay field suddenly sprouted a neighbours cows takings a walkabout under the blue skies. 

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart."

from Forgetfulness 
by Billy Collins

Moose Family

The moose family continues to appear almost daily at one of the nearby sloughs. It makes me wonder if the resident bear has moved on.

"When he tried his eyes on the lake, ospreys 

would fall like valkyries 

choosing the cut-throat 

He took then to waiting 

till the night smoke rose from the boil of the sunset 

But the moon carved unknown totems 

out of the lakeshore 

owls in the beardusky woods derided him 

moosehorned cedars circled his swamps and tossed 

their antlers up to the stars 

Then he knew though the mountain slept, the winds 

were shaping its peak to an arrowhead 

poised 

But by now he could only 

bar himself in and wait 

for the great flint to come singing into his heart"

from Bushed

by Earle Birney

Aretha Franklin, 'the queen of soul', dies aged 76

Sometimes, sometimes I get a little worried, yes, I do

Sometimes . . . I get a little fearful about different things, yes, I do

But oh! Just as sure as the sun rises in the morning,

I know that everything . . .

If you don’t never do nothing about it, everything’s gonna be alright . . .

Some people, some people worry about whether they gonna wake up in the morning

Well, why don’t you close your eyes and see? Uh-huh.

Some people worry about if we’re gonna get over this bridge or that one

And haven’t even got to the bridge yet to see if we can walk across, oh, yeah . . .

Some people will worry, talking about, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if something happens to my child.”

Well, ain’t nothing happened to your child yet. Wait and see.

Will you be able? Wait and see. Will you be able?

Don’t put worry on you before worry gets to you

I said that! Yes, I did.

. . . Oh, you gotta keep your arms around us. You gotta do that for us, Lord. Yeah, you gotta keep your arms of mercy all around us . . .

Don’t get worried before worry gets there. And everything—oh, you’d be surprised what big bridges you can meet when you get there.

Ain’t it so? Yes, it is . . .

from NewYorker Link

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/aretha-franklins-astonishing-dr-feelgood?mbid=nl_Daily%20081618&CNDID=40968212&utm_source=Silverpop&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Daily%20081618&utm_content=&spMailingID=14075899&spUserID=MTMzMTg0ODQ2ODY4S0&spJobID=1461484072&spReportId=MTQ2MTQ4NDA3MgS2