A Walk in the Research Park

"This Time

Which carries us away

Far from hours

And from things

Towards places

Without matter

Toward the simple

Earth"

To Each of the Dead

         Andree Chedid

"Momentarily alone, within an ordinary setting-

Disenchanted and alone, but also strangely free,

And suddenly relieved to find a vast inhuman

World, completely independent of our lives

And yet behind them all, still there."

                   Songs My Mother Taught Me

                      John Koethe

The other day I finished reading Jonathan Carroll’s the The Ghost in Love a book

I have had for some time but had not read. I am not sure why, Jonathan Carroll

is a very important writer for me and I have as far as I know, all his books including

a few rarer things like the Weird Tales special Jonathan Carroll issue from 1990/1

and a limited edition copy of the Heidelberg Cylinder but I had been saving

Ghost possibly I feared disappointment, I am not sure, I wasn’t disappointed

it was wonderful. Hopefully this will explain why I have been thinking about and

quoting him for the last couple of days.  I also visited his website and read

a number of the stories there, in one story “Home on the Rain”

which I quite enjoyed, I found the following quote which appears to be

a paraphrase of a quote translated many different ways

on the internet by Rabbi Tarfon or Tarphon I like Carroll’s version.

“ The world is not yours to finish

but neither are you free to take no part in it”

"I entrench myself  in my books, equally

against sorrow and the weather.”

                      Leigh Hunt The Literary Examiner : My Books

                      Quoted in The Friendship of Books

                              Edited with an introduction by Temple Scott

                                The Macmillan Company 1911

"The wind is gusting, the dog runs full speed

towards nothing but happiness,"

 

Waiting to Wave

            Jonathan Carroll

                   

“Dogs are minor angels, and I don't mean that facetiously.

They love unconditionally, forgive immediately, are the truest

of friends, willing to do anything that makes us happy, etcetera.

If we attributed some of those qualities to a person we would say

they are special. If they had ALL of them, we would call them

angelic. But because it's "only" a dog, we dismiss them as

sweet or funny but little more. However when you think about it,

what are the things that we most like in another human being?

Many times those qualities are seen in our dogs every single day--

we're just so used to them that we pay no attention.”

Jonathan Carroll

"Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came."

How To Be a Poet

            Wendell Berry

My wife sent me the following link. It concerns a number of

mysterious paper sculptures that appeared around the city of

Edinburgh’s literary sites and libraries. These are wonderful

creations and I encourage anyone that stops by to spend

some time and enjoy them.

http://thisiscentralstation.com/featured/mysterious-paper-sculptures/

After looking at the sculptures I began rereading Wendell Berry's

The Long-Legged House and found the following passage.

"I sat in the open doorway there one afternoon, a rich plot of sunlight

on the  floor around me, Curran quietly at work in the room at my back:

I looked up at the ridge beyond the town, the open still sunlit country

of the summer afternoon, and felt a happiness I will never forget"

I have felt that feeling and I have those memories that come welcome

but unbidden, often at the strangest times. And I started to wonder is

that what the person who left the sculptures wanted to capture

or recreate that moment of joy or peace or belonging or rightness

that returns to us through the years.

I thought since there were a number of nests among the

sculptures in Edinburgh that I would include a photo

of a precious find of mine. I found this nest at the base of a spruce

in the mountains some years ago. There was a large flock of

crossbills in the trees so I have assumed this in a crossbill nest.

  

" For we are green and ever falling from high nests of

wind, the secret houses of the sky, into the jaws of

gorgeous cats and flowers

        

          Not to worry but be handsome and heed these"

                              Not to Worry

                                   Gwendolyn MacEwen

Today it remains stupid cold -24 C at present

which is actually a slightly warmer temperature compared

to the last couple of days. So I decided to see what I could

find among the photos from the trip to DC we took in

Oct. My wife had a symposium to attend on this morning

so I went out to take some pictures. There was a gentle

rain off and on but nothing too bad.

I was fascinated by this collection of bottles which

made me think of the H.P. Lovecraft story

The Terrible Old Man.

"These folk say that on a table in a bare room on the ground floor

are many peculiar bottles, in each a small piece of lead suspended

pendulum-wise from a string. And they say that the Terrible

Old Man talks to these bottles, addressing them by such names

as Jack, Scar-Face, Long Tom, Spanish Joe, Peters, and Mate Ellis,

and that whenever he speaks to a bottle the little lead

pendulum within makes certain definite vibrations as if in answer.

Those who have watched the tall, lean, Terrible Old Man in these

peculiar conversations, do not watch him again."

I may do this at the cabin.

A bit further on I encountered a beautiful set
of stone steps that lead from one street to another.

There was a lovely fountain at the top.

At the top of the stairs I found a number of

building which I think were embassies. There was

also a lovely park were a number of birds were

flocking.

I saw a number of Northern Cardinals 

busy despite the rain.

And of course roses.

And to brighten a dreary day who better that the man

 my grade 13 English text  (which I still have of course)

described as probably the most romantic figure

in English Literature.

 

"Thus richer than untempted kings are we,

   That, asking nothing, nothing need:

Though lords of all what seas embrace, yet he

   That wants himself is poor indeed."

 

                                  The Grasshopper, Ode.

        To My Noble Friend, Mr Charles Cotton

 

                            Richard Lovelace (Cavalier Poet)

We have had little snow and unseasonably warm temperatures

for most of this winter so when it threatened to get cold weather

warning were issued. At present it is -18 C / which I believe is - 4 F

nothing to get worked up about. I did notice that the house sparrows

were huddled at the base of the honeysuckle next to the feeder. And

every one I ran into, house sparrows, magpies and squirrels had set

their outfits to extra fluffy.

Almost looks stuffed doesn't he, and he seems  to be working on it.

I did notice that most of the wildlife I ran into today are

often considered pests the House Sparrows and Eastern Grey

Squirrels because they are non native and the native Magpies

because of the high concentrations in the city. I realize

that all can take a toll on other species, just as the vast roosts

of wintering starling can be a disaster if you live nearby.

However I do think there is some truth to the quote below, I

have noticed that people who really don't care about a native

species if it interferes with the placement of a mini mall

are all to happy to decry the presence of pest species.

Possibly many of us just don't like to share.

"Perhaps we project on to starlings that which we deplore in

ourselves: our numbers, our aggression, our greed, and our

cruelty. Like starlings, we are taking over the world."

Refuge
Terry Tempest Williams

But I also noticed on my walk that the snow had worked it

usual magic and even the ordinary has been subtlety

changed and lifted up and merited notice once again. And

over it all were woven the winter songs Chicka-dee-dee-dee-dee;

fee-beee and how can you not like them?

"Now the long freight of autumn goes smoking out of the land.

My possibles are all packed up, but still I do not leave.

I am happy enough here, where Dakota drifts wild in the universe,

Where the prairie is starting to shake in the surf of the winter dark."

 

                                                         Beyond the Red River

                                                                Thomas McGrath

 

The Red Squirrel was also a fan of the feeders on the

farm. To get to them it often traveled along the sill of

the picture window that runs the length of the living room.

On one trip I watched it stop to survey a blooming orchid

on another trip it exchanged looks with the family dog.

"When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."

                        The Peace of Wild Things

                           Wendell Berry

At the farm the feeders are close to the windows and the view

is great if I did this at home I would have a window full of

House Sparrows, on the farm you are rewarded with visits from

that charming little favorite the Black-capped Chickadee.

I found a lovely old collection of poems

about Chickadees at

http://home.comcast.net/~peter_oehlkers/The_Chickadee_Vol1_Verse.pdf

“Were it not for me”,
Said a chickadee,
“Not a single flower on earth would be;
For under the ground they soundly sleep,
And never venture an upward peep,
Till they hear from me,
Chickadee—dee—dee!”

SIDNEY DAYRE

I wrote the following as a comment to a post on the blog http://wildramblings.com/ 

a wonderful blog that always encourages me to think. Bill was discussing

the trouble we have remembering names. I however was struck more by

how transitory names can be and the futility of thinking that they matter 

on a planet 4 plus billion years old in a universe some 13 plus billion

years old. I notice I have quoted a number of poets lately on the very

human impulse to name things and the equally human impulse

to complain about it. I did edit the comments below to provide

more information.

"As I survey the puncture mark in my jacket; we were visiting our cabin and the

barbed wire gate is a work in progress, I was struck by your problem with

remembering which wall represented which neighbour. Land does often have, at

least today, a designation based on names/ownership. Our 80 acres originally

belonged, I believe to a family named Dall I am not sure if they homesteaded

the 160 acres (quarter section which we subdivided) under the Dominion Lands
Act or if they came later, then the land passed to my wife's family and now to us.
In the future their name will disappear along with the few stones that are
left of their foundation. How long our land will be associated with us
I cannot say. But as long as the land itself is crossed with tracks in the winter
and shadowed by the dance of leaves in summer I guess I can be content.
                Maybe the name does not matter."                                                          

                                             Guy

" Only on me, the lonely one,
The unending stars of the night shine,
The stone fountain whispers its magic song.
To me alone, to me the lonely one
The colourful shadows of the wandering clouds
Move like dreams over the open countryside.
Neither house nor farmland,
either forest nor hunting privelege is given to me,
What is mine belongs to no one,
The plungeing brook behind the veil of the woods,"

The Poet

Hermann Hesse

translated by James Wright

No trip to the farm would be complete without

a visit to our cabin. After all our 80 acres is

just down the road. Our visits were brief, the cabin

is not winterized and we had lots of Christmas

activities to get to. There was not much snow,

the slough was frozen and crisscrossed with lots

of tracks but not a creature was stirring while we

were there.

Above: if you squint you can see a
beaver lodge.

This last photo shows that our resident

population of beavers has been busy. As

this point of land is between two arms of the

slough it seems to get very heavily harvetsed.

" a single beaver can cut down up to 1700

trees each year to ensure its survival."

                        Mammals of Alberta

                                 Pattie and Fisher

" Do not touch words to what has no name

or feel the place of wandering stones with eyes

the beast we hunt must not be said

its smell rides under the wind

its face remembers our faces."

                            Glacier Spell

                               Al Purdy