Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Time to wander...

Today I drove across the Hood Canal to the Olympic Peninsula to pick up CG's daughter from her school...She attends a Waldorf school that is also a farm...   I arrived 15 minutes early so had time to wander the farm and take a moment or two to dream...

 I love farms and have long held a desire to be a farmer...  I dream of happy chickens, taking dust-baths, ducks swimming in muddy puddles (and terrorizing any slugs that dare to come near my vegetable and flower beds...)  I dream of having bees that drone happily all season long dancing with the flowers, pollinating blossoms in an orchard full of fruit trees.. Its a beautiful dream...

Bees loading up on pollen from the calendula flowers...

Giant sunflowers bow their heads as if too tired to 
to keep them looking sunward...

Gorgeous orangey red Tithonia - one of my 
favorite summer flowers...

Even though a little blurry, I had to include this sweet 
little marmalade colored friend... he was a little 
reticent about having his photo taken, and made a 
dash for the shadows after I took my shot...

Lost in taking photo's of the flowers, I suddenly caught sight of
my shadow through the camera lens..., I had a moment of
childish delight at seeing my shadow self..., I'm not sure
why...  When I have more time, I think I'd like to 
write more about this..., perhaps a poem, or perhaps a dream???

Do you have dreams ???

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Owl Inspiration...

Tonight we took ourselves off to the movies, a treat, considering its a school night..., we've been wanting to see the film version of this book'Hoole  since we saw the trailers for it months ago...  And oh my..., it was wonderful... The animation is so incredibly breathtaking.. A must see for adults as well as children...

Owls are such beautiful creatures, sometimes at night I can hear a pair calling to each other - (though not sure what species...) And unfortunately, I do not have any owl photo's myself, but I was able to find a photo online of what I consider my favorite owl -  Barn Owl (tyto alba)

Photographer ~ Liz Noffsinger

I have another reason for wanting to post about owls, last night I came upon a new (to me) poem by Mary Oliver, in which she describes what I believe to be a barn owl as "pale angel..."  I love her poems, but this one really called to me...

The Poet Goes To Indiana ~ by Mary Oliver

I'll tell you a half-dozen things
that happened to me
in Indiana
when I went that far west to teach.
You tell me if it was worth it.

I lived in the country
with my dog ---
part of the bargain of coming.
and there was a pond
with fish from, I think, China.
I felt them sometimes against my feet.
Also, they crept out of the pond, along its edges,
to eat the grass.
I'm not lying.
And I saw coyotes,
two of them, at dawn, running over the seemingly
unenclosed fields.
And once a deer, but a buck, thick-necked, leaped
into the road just ---oh, I mean just, in front of my car ---
and we both made it home safe.
And once the blacksmith came to care for the four horses,
or the three horses that belonged to the owner of the house,
and I bargained with him, if I could catch the forth,
he, too, would have hooves trimmed
for the Indiana winter,
and apples did it,
and a rope over the neck did it,
so I won something wonderful;
and there was, one morning,
an owl
flying, oh pale angel, into
the hay loft of a barn,
I see it still;
and there was once, oh wonderful,
a new horse in the pasture,
a tall, slim being --- a neighbor was keeping him there ---
and she put her face against my face,
put her muzzle, her nostrils, soft as violets,
against my mouth and my nose, and breathed me,
to see who I was,
a long quiet minute --- minutes---
then she stamped feet and whisked tail
and danced deliciously into the grass away, and came back.
She was saying, so plainly, that I was good, or good enough.
Such a fine time I had teaching in Indiana.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Knitting Brings Quiet...

This weekend finds me at our local race track, watching as CG races in the rain...  My usual home on Wheels AKA "Petunia" sits at home, unable to start, (we think she needs a new battery)...  So I sit in  the cab of our truck and try to feel the quiet and peace like I enjoy when we travel with Petunia...

I pulled out some rich Kiwi green yarn that I'd brought with me and began to knit a toasty shawl for the cooler weather.   Once again I discover what profound and therapeutic effects working (creating) with colors can have on my temperament.  The repetition of the gently clicking needles and the beautiful colored  yarn passing in, over, through, off, puts me in a state of quiet relaxation, almost meditation... whilst in the background I hear the sound of cars careering  around corners and screeching their tires in an effort to stay on the track in the deluge of rain.  Its good to be warm, its good to be dry...

I discovered this poem I'd like to share by Pablo Neruda.  I love how his words sweetly describe the specialness of being given a pair of hand knitted socks, that are "as soft as two rabbits..."

Ode To My Socks ~ by Pablo Neruda
(Translated by Robert Bly)

Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as though into two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin.

Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.

They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit fireman,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.

Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.

Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.

The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty,
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.