counting petals

2009-11-03T08:37:00.004-05:00

on the eve of The Hunter's Moon
hands warmed by the stove. the world was quiet

2009-11-02T08:39:00.000-05:00

I've been here before . . .

but never like this.

2009-10-29T14:19:00.005-04:00

in the mood for a little green

on this gray, nearly November day

2009-10-29T09:22:00.005-04:00

If I were a tree, I’d wish I were a human.

Why does that seem so wrong? To think trees might want the freedom to move somewhere cleaner, more quiet? To pick the place they put down their roots?

Why do we assume that trees are peacefully resigned to the place we give them? Especially that place in our minds.

Is it because they are silent? I ask myself. My mind reels with all the silenced people of the world. They are not content even if wordless and holding their place, a place designated by someone other.

What would happen to the trees if we were to become what we believe they are and make peace with the place we’re planted?

(this was written in response to the Festival of Trees prompt this month)

2009-10-27T13:52:00.004-04:00

the last maple leaves. near the beaver's
lodge, oak leaves hanging on. a woodpecker rapidly taps.
no ducks on the pond. skim ice along the edge. wrinkled. water falls
in a rush over rocks near home
there is a river we walk towards after dark. listening

to the stars

beech

2009-10-20T12:34:00.005-04:00

color that remains, holds
rattles, a semblance of summer
brisk is the wind

2009-10-14T23:51:00.003-04:00

first snow

a lovely way to wake

and take things slowly

2009-10-13T23:37:00.002-04:00

in good company

Southern Vermont

2009-10-12T15:36:00.004-04:00

15-20mph winds, 50° -- a chilly fall day

in search of the last red leaves

1.5 hours from home, an old haunt, bitterns rumored to lurk here
(year after year my eyes have failed to find them among the reeds... but I still believe... one day)
while eating apples, there will be a shift

2009-10-09T10:30:00.003-04:00

to the tamarack

yet to glow

2009-10-08T10:00:00.004-04:00

Yesterday: Rain. Sun. Blue sky then. Slate. Lightning flashed off the countertop. Maples fought to stand straight in the wind. He began filming their last orange leaves--a fierce rattling, a tumbling blow. Thunder at 3pm.

By the warmth of his wood stove, I watched November coming fast. No red this morning. Just rust. Bands of it in the hills, patches where the river runs. October 8th, I remind myself.

Home to Bluet Hill

2009-10-07T00:32:00.006-04:00

When I first moved to Vermont, this dam was being repaired. Water levels were low; traffic was low. The brook feeding this reservoir ran like the cobblestone river it once was. I witnessed my first cream midge hatch there and learned to cast. I began picking up stones.

The rainbows were small and beautiful. Monarchs frequented the exposed banks blooming with Joe-pye -weed. A resident great blue heron circled the cove near my favorite place to rest--Bluet Hill. I'm looking forward to next year, paddle in hand.

2009-10-06T11:38:00.003-04:00

near the hammock

2009-10-04T20:13:00.005-04:00

shagbark hickory, chipmunks, and oaks

maidenhair spleenwort, red pines, big toothed aspens, maples

a rocky shore, walking near sunset, geese honk overhead... sunday

sharing the sunset & moonrise, full, with mom

2009-10-03T09:37:00.005-04:00

delightful surprise along the trail

(Red breasted nuthatch)

2009-10-02T10:38:00.004-04:00

My Request for the Day

Let me feel the curves of the road like I know them again, like they were just yesterday, all of them. No, not all of them. That could be too much. Maybe just one or two curves, maybe just one or two days, much like the one I’m driving in. Crisp, sunny, rich with color, knowing the river is just one state away, one short ferry ride to the west and a few winding roads. I trust in the riffles, that they’ll take me back. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to get in the car this morning. To go. To drive a route I drove several October days, the sole purpose to love and to fish. There is a current threatening to pull me out of the calm. I feel its running edge, slick and seducing. I tell myself be like the leaf and tumble. If you are in the river you love so much, there will be another rock, another pool in which to rest. Go to that river and no other. You know this flow. Breathe.

2009-10-01T21:14:00.001-04:00

on the way home

2009-10-01T21:12:00.001-04:00

Autumn is: camping under the sound of a bright moon, a cold night
geese honking, leaves sliding, the outside of the tent growing damp.

Autumn is: fly fishing, river bustling, isonychia in the ‘Dacks, warm coffee in the car, thermos pressed between cold hands, lid twisting.

Autumn is: apples dropping, cider pressing, making merry lines of rhyme while chop-chopping, slicing, dicing, rolling pie crust all before the sun goes down; mouths wide for apple pie and ice cream freshly churned.

Autumn is: right here, right now. Step outside, close your eyes, let it in.

three weeks between...

2009-10-01T12:08:00.003-04:00

30th of September

7th of September

2009-09-30T23:45:00.001-04:00

peaking early this year

2009-09-30T23:25:00.001-04:00

late august. for sandhill cranes

Exactly One Year From Today

2009-09-29T21:01:00.005-04:00

A friend of mine asked me to describe how my life will be different exactly one year from today.

I wrote, "I have learned to never predict my future. Even one year from today, I will not venture to speak of, envision, or taint it with my current limitations. Positive thinking can be a limitation; I’ve learned that too. So I trust. I trust that in one year from today, if I engage each day along the way with awareness, I will find myself at peace, at home, wherever it is that I am. And what more could I want?"

2009-09-27T21:57:00.007-04:00

looking for something . . .

I can't name

2009-09-26T09:44:00.004-04:00

remembering

another time . . . much like this

2009-09-25T20:19:00.007-04:00

The Northeast Kingdom

pearly everlasting