The green glows like electricity. It’s everywhere in the forest. It’s on the ground, stuck on twigs like christmas decoration. I get lost by moving it. The electriciy goes dim, the sky turns blue, my wrist begins to throb.
A beast lives deep in the valley, out of sight, lonely, blue, true to its nature. Heaven and earth cannot move it into the light until it decides for itself. Footsteps crunch bark, boasting its strength as the day heat dims. While the town goes to close, the beast’s wide eyes glow bright red, so fierce they could start a fire.
The wind pulls tufts of moss from the tall pine, with the broken branch that healed itself, then started growing down until it fused with a granite slab and made a seat large enogh for a family of four.
Over the mountains the clouds drift east until I stop to ponder their movement. Then they stand still, quiet like fog.
A friend gave me a beautiful yellow Iris a few years back. Each May, it bloomed and brought me a smile. His did the same, on or about his birthday. But our Echium (Pride of Madeira) grew to overwhelm the Iris. The Iris leafed but wouldn’t bloom from under the spreading Echium. The image below was its 2015 bloom.
This year the Echium got leggy, branches broke, flowers dimmed. On a lark we had our gardener pull the sucker.
Now hundreds of baby Echium fight each other for space as our patient Iris is strutting its stuff.
In 2013 we stayed in the village of Saignon in the South of France’s Luberon Valley. The structures were made from stone that was pulled from the fields, in century’s past, to make the earth into farm land. Our unit had this latch on the front door. Security at its finest.
Few, if any, have gone before
a long line of, are they
heroes? At the helm
In my bubble
the mindset of those
who would have my soul,
wash away my sins to the rivers
of unknown things, the height
of my stupidity. Leave me
this day or pray to a god
gone missing, who sees
the world a scary place
they worship hateful
Hemmingway who is
to say which way
right. What is a
doing in the middle?
Listen, quiet your mind,
let the streams fill to over
flowing, birds flit in and out of
reach, tiny sparrows singing true
to you, your long long days of waiting
and watching for the sign that it’s time to
uphold the truths that are not yet self evident.
We hadn’t been to Sacramento’s Yolo Bypass Wildlife Area, for birding, the past couple of years. It’s a dream come true in the right conditions, and yesterday was one of those days. At 4 pm the temperature was around 44 degrees, damp, with just enough of a breeze to send the wind through my jeans. Glad we brought the Rav4, since the road was rutted with plenty of potholes and slippery with mud.
There were Snow Geese, Black Neck Stilt, Northern Shoveler, Pintale, Cinnamon Teal, Common Egret, Great Blue Heron, a murmuration of Starling, Coot, Canada Geese, Red Shouldered Hawk (though we had misidentified it before running into some locals with expensive glass who let us peep through their spotting scopes.) There was a Plover I could not identify and at least one Swallow that disappeared before we got a decent look.
We saw a flock of Snow Geese take off maybe 1/2 mile away and right beneath them a storm of rusty shaded ducks took off and filled the sky. Our spotting scope friends said they saw an Eagle swoop in and that’s what spooked the mass. There’s something about that many birds in one place that fills me with joy.
On our way out we stopped for this sweet little reflection pond. Back toward the Snow Geese, the sky was strewn with ribbons of migrating birds, going in so many directions. At one point there was a murmuration of geese, that broke into dozens of Vee formations, some of which flew right over us.
If you’re ever in the area, give yourself time to wander around, and bring mud boots. And remind me to bring more than one set of binoculars, and my Lumix camera with the 600mm lens.
future sun sets
light dances itself silly
watch it grow.
Twas the Twelfth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me, stockings galore, a fire in the fire place, a full cup of coffee, and a strong west swell. Not that I’m surfing, since my back is not back from its hiding place yet.
The day is crisp and clear. Surfers were surfing before I rose from the bed. We are busy at work preparing food for our family who will join us for presents in the not too distant future.
Thanks to Mollie for making this fabulous Twelve Days of Christmas Wreath.
Merry Christmas to all. May this day bring you peace and joy.