Hafford Road Trip Blue-Winged Teal

"And life seems smaller, placed against the background   

Of this story with the empty, moral quality of an expansive   

Gesture made up out of trees and clouds and air."

The Late Wisconsin Spring

"not half a mile from the nearest road,

a spot so hard to reach that no one comes–

a hiding place, a shrine for dragonflies

and nesting jays, a sign that there is still

one piece of property that won't be owned."

from Rough Country

by Dana Gioia 

I have been out of touch for some time. a lost internet connection

some work travel etc. I had hoped to share some photos of our big

Sept. snowstorm but they seem to be misplaced somewhere on the 

computer. So I  will start offering some thoughts and photos from 

our trip to  the cabin in Mid August. A trip across the prairie took 

use past some old farm buildings and a beautiful slough. 

When we finally left the grid road it was a steamy 30 plus Celsius and a
moose came out of the tiny slough next to our lane. 

"A moose has come out of

the impenetrable wood

and stands there, looms, rather,

in the middle of the road.

It approaches; it sniffs at

the bus's hot hood.

Towering, antlerless,

high as a church,

homely as a house

(or, safe as houses).

A man's voice assures us

"Perfectly harmless. . . ."

Some of the passengers

exclaim in whispers,

childishly, softly,

"Sure are big creatures."

"It's awful plain."

"Look! It's a she!"

Taking her time,

she looks the bus over,

grand, otherworldly.

Why, why do we feel

(we all feel) this sweet

sensation of joy?

"Curious creatures,"

says our quiet driver,

rolling his r's.

"Look at that, would you."

Then he shifts gears.

For a moment longer,

by craning backward,

the moose can be seen

on the moonlit macadam;

then there's a dim

smell of moose, an acrid

smell of gasoline. "

from The Moose

Elizabeth Bishop

“I dreamed that I floated at will in the great Ether,

 and I saw this world floating also not far 

off, but diminished to the size of an apple. 

Then an angel took it in his hand and brought it to 

me and said, ‘This must thou eat’. And I ate the world.” 

                                      by Ralph Waldo Emerson 

This post contains photos taken during one canoe trip on the Banana 

slough a crescent shaped body of water in front of our cabin. Sloughs 

or glacial potholes are feed by snow melt and groundwater infill rather

 than actual streams. This means the level fluctuates during period of 

high rainfall or drought. At present it is as high as anyone in the family

 can remember. This has meant lots of waterfowl, this trip, more a one 

hour meander was in early June so we encountered a glaring goose mother,

 and a pair of blackbirds determined top distract us from their nest.

Why does this written doe bound through these written woods?

For a drink of written water from a spring

whose surface will xerox her soft muzzle?

Why does she lift her head; does she hear something?

Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth,

she pricks up her ears beneath my fingertips.

Silence - this word also rustles across the page

and parts the boughs

that have sprouted from the word "woods."

                          from The Joy Of Writing

                                       by Wislawa Szymborska

Monday an uxexpected vistor to the local pond.

Blue-Winged Teal

The Mayday trees are in bloom.

The Thunderchild Crabapples

The Nanking Cherry

"In June as many as a dozen species

may burst their buds on a single day. 

No man can heed all of these anniversaries;

no man can ignore all of them." 

                                               Aldo Leopold