I picked up some tulips at the market on Wednesday because the day was drowning in the sludge of Not Spring. The dark, the wet, the cold, the goo--too much. Nothing else for it but tulips. Today's Flowers
Every Saturday: The triathlete runs past me Smiles and says hello Disappears for I don't know how long Reappears and smiles
Says we must be crazy
We alone who are out there So early on a Saturday morning.
I smile and nod
But he is gone.
I wonder What he sees.
He runs. I walk.
Beaver smacking that pond Saying beware she is here Mallards swimming at their own pace Saying so what, so what, so what Canada geese saying do what you must We are crossing the road at our own pace Crows cheerfully waiting for death Squirrels.
You know about squirrels.
I wonder what he sees
As my eye traces the line of the echo Of the muskrat who makes his way Across the silent pond.
I mean that I am sure He sees what I see
But I wonder how it is To see all that with the heart Working so much harder Muscles working so much harder Breath working so much harder.
I wonder how it is. What he sees.
I am so slow. So very, very slow.
I have been wondering what life would be like if I put some muscle into it. I am a very lazy person about a lot of t…
This dove was singing into the afternoon blue one day last week when I was out for a walk near my parents' home in Newtown, Connecticut. I was about ready to take a decent shot when I heard the rumble of the UPS truck as that big, brown monster came onto the road. So this was a quick. I'm not much good at photographing animate things, so I was happy to get this guy before he flew off.
Perhaps because I love to swim, I saw the legs of a diver here:
Still, because I love winter and I have missed it sorely during its many Southern sojourns, I couldn't take my eyes off of this tree while the snow fell last Tuesday afternoon. I love the curve of this tree's trunk. I remember the day my daughter and her friend made their way to the top of this gentle green beauty in their Crocs. I was somehow sure the tree would keep her safe. (Howe I delude myself to get by!) She got herself down on her own steam. But the tree was good to my girl. I know it. Such a beautiful tree.
The Winter Festival at Lyman Orchards in Middlefield, Connecticut, showcased some wonderful ice sculptures last weekend. Undaunted by the balmy temperatures of 40+ degrees, the sculptors carried on with their chain saws, chisels, sanders, and clothes irons to produce some great work with an Arthurian theme.
Lyman Orchards is a beautiful, family-owned orchard in the center of our little state. The orchard does a lot to bring in the public, and it gives back plenty, too. Always a good trip.
When they're not the blue of your best and brightest dreams, our skies are office paper white--and just as flat. Out for a walk Sunday morning before church, I found myself taking in the details of the Palace Theater's exterior without any trouble at all from the sun. Skywatch Friday
What I like best this time of year is the warmth of the sun on my back on a clear and breezy winter day. It's cold out, but I'm not. Spring's far away, but not so far (This idea took me here.). In each small thing is a universe--in the moss and vines clinging to the remains of a white birch, in the small tracks looping around the freeze-dried brush, in the water that runs and freezes with the rise and fall of the day. It's all good. My World Tuesday
I was out for a walk the other day when I found these flowers holding on for dear life and looking soft and lovely in the afternoon light. When I got to the top of the hill, I took a look up to drink in the sky, and I got a wonderful dose of magnolia in the making. Sometimes it's all in the looking up. Today's Flowers
There is a fine line Between night and day That marks the space Between now and secret truth Cross the line Come inside Leave the lights off No more shadows No more seeing too clearly What is wrong or missing There is no need now That golden line Between night and day Is a gift and a promise In darkness and silence Dream your dreams. Touch them. A new day comes To be them And breathe them. One Single Impression
This is a view from the home of the Congregational minister at Sturbridge Village. While we were there a few weeks ago, my nephew Adam became suddenly very enthusiastic about religion--because the heat was on in the church and in the parsonage! Smart kid. And a quick mover. Some might call such a view dreary. I call it home. Skywatch Friday
Two weeks ago my daughter had a basketball game in Waterbury. The local white bread was a wreck. Some (very vocal) parents recalled hearing profanity the last time they were at a game in the Brass City. The gym smelled like disinfectant. The neighborhood? Let's not go there. Really. The girls had heard they'd be up against a good team. They were worried about losing the game. Unlike their parents, they were unconcerned about the poverty or racial background of these kids. The gym was, in fact, beautiful and clean. The parents for the local kids were great. The refs, awesome. The Waterbury girls? Out of this world good. They were so fast that they forced our girls to think on their feet as a team. No longer had the three strongest players the luxury of playing among themselves, ignoring the other girls on the floor. The cliques dissolved as our snobs rapidly realized they couldn't go it alone. The Waterbury girls threw them off their game a bit, too, and suddenly they noti…
Actually, there is no beating a retreat--not when Brian leads the way. I spent all of Saturday among friends in Plymouth, Connecticut, under the direction of Buddhist teacher Brian Vaugh. We shared in tea, walking, silent, and guided meditations, tai chi, and a video about the Soto Zen teacher Edward Brown. Along the way we even had a clay meditation, fashioning food items from modeling clay. We spent the day in silence, and it was good. The cup, above, is one of Brian's that we use in the tea meditation. The dog and the cat are the live-in friends of our hosts and very much in sync with the universe. So they're way ahead of the rest of us. The truth is you're already a cook. Nobody teaches you anything, but you can be touched, you can be awakened. Put down the book and start asking, "What have we here?" (Edward Espe Brown) My World Tuesday
On March 27th at 8:30 p.m. local time, Earth Hour will cascade around the globe—from time zone to time zone—uniting the planet under a single, simple, call to action. On Earth Hour hundreds of millions of people, organizations, corporations and governments will come together to make a bold statement about their concern for climate change by doing something quite simple—turning off their lights for one hour. Earth Hour symbolizes that by working together, each of us can have a positive impact in the fight against climate change, protecting our future and that of future generations. In the U.S. where the impacts of climate change are already being felt, Earth Hour sends a message that Americans care about this issue and stand with the world in seeking to find solutions to the escalating climate crisis because if we don’t, who will. Participation is easy. By flipping off your light switch on March 27th at 8:30 p.m. local time you will be casting your vote for action on climate change. Use …
My sister and I took our kids to Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts $on Saturday. This is a wonderful outdoor history museum depicting life in a New England village in th 1830s, a time when this region was moving out of a purely agrarian lifestyle into a commercial one. At the same time some folks around here were scraping a living out of the earth, they were also sending missionaries to the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii) and starting to play a key role in international trade. With three young kids who are cold and curious and therefore moving quickly to see it all and stay warm, taking photos was a challenge. So was dealing with what I saw through my polarized eyeglasses! It was a great day. My World Tuesday