Foxglove is the name of my property, five acres overlooking the Lewis River Valley that was covered with the wildflower when I first moved here in 1996.
There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day,
or for many years, or stretching cycles of years...
Walt Whitman
This morning I woke up and became a hummingbird.
Not bad.
[First posted: May 16, 2015]
Yesterday I visited Tsugawa nursery, looking for some herbs to plant on my hillside, providing the mountain beavers a little herbal seasoning to go with the young rhododendrons they are enjoying so much.
A helpful attendant showed me to the herbs area, which contained a large selection--a variety of mints, coriander, basil, sage, rosemary, tarragon, fennel, oregano--then she gestured to a whole separate table, exclaiming, "And I've got all the thyme in the world!"
Her comment occupied and entertained me all afternoon as I planted the herbs, chuckling to myself while thinking:
There is No Thyme Like the Present,
because
Thyme Flies,
and
Thyme is Money.
The Thyme is Out of Joint,
when
one is Killing Thyme.
Now maybe
There Will Be Peace in Our Thyme
...
Planting the basil wasn't half as much fun.
[First posted: May 10, 2015]
Over the past two months I have been clearing the thick dense brush below my pond.
When finished, I laid out a "wisdom walk" on the hillside, suitable for contemplation, and planted ten young rhododendrons to celebrate.
The following morning I was heartsick to find that mountain beavers had munched and destroyed four of the plants before I could build protective cages around them.
With the brush now cleared away, I could see that the little critters had burrows all over the area.
"Pests," pronounced my neighbor at the bottom of the hill when I complained of the destruction. He suggested a way to get rid of them that was repugnant to me.
And there is a moral issue here (There is always a moral issue):
Since I was the one who invaded and disrupted their habitat, they may have their own opinion as to who the pest is.
[First posted: May 8, 2015]
I have witnessed any number of squirrelly creative contortions at the bird feeder, but I'd never before seen these little fellows hanging upside down from it.
[First posted: April 16, 2015]
Buds one day, blossoms the next.
So natural, even commonplace,
at once mundane yet miraculous.
We have come into the season of bursting blossoms, like children watching the same magic trick, year after year, and still willing to be amazed, surprised, delighted all over again, as seeing it the first time.
And wondering: How do they do it?
[First posted: April 8, 2015]
The Reds (Rufous) have returned from their winter sojourn,
looking tanned and relaxed, their golf games improved.
The Greens (Anna), who stuck it out through the winter,
are none too pleased. Already the nightly squabbles around the feeders,
a dozen hummingbirds hovering, darting, zipping, flaring, posturing,
threatening hummingbird mayhem,
yet making very little body contact from what I can see.
Anyway, welcome back, Rufus.
[First posted: April 2, 2015]
A highlight of my time living in Japan was visiting the Great Buddha of Kamakura.
Cast in bronze in 1252, it's located on the grounds of Kotokuin Temple in Kamakura, about an hour south of Tokyo by train. Standing 44 feet in height and weighing approximately 102 tons, the Great Buddha towers over humble humanity.
I have a replica of the Great Buddha on my hillside.
He stands twelve inches in height and weighs approximately 10 pounds.
Yet, given the right camera angle, my little Great Buddha towers serenely over this hillside of spring blossoms.
[First posted: March 31, 2015]
Much of the time, wherever I go,
I go glancing,
glancing here, glancing there,
eyes bouncing about
object to object.
Yesterday, passing by
the magnolia tree, I glanced
and thought, "Pretty."
A bunch of pretty blossoms.
But sometimes something grabs hold
and shakes me: "Pay attention!"
I looked again, and, behold,
not a 'bunch,'
but a multitude of unique creations uniquely unfolding.
And not 'pretty'--Please!
Something far more extraordinary
is happening here.
And you almost missed it.
So now I'm training myself
to break the glancing habit
and instead to "see" what I'm looking at...
which requires attention (and attending),
which in turn requires slowing down,
which (often) requires a change in my plan,
which may require changing my goal
for this moment,
or for this day.
Or for this life.
[First posted: March 27, 2015]
There comes a brief moment each spring,
lasting little more than a week,
when the last of the flowering plums
overlap
with the first of the flowering cherries,
and this hillside becomes awash in pinks and whites.
A mystical conjunction and combining of blossoms.
Beauty in transit.
[First posted: March 12, 2015]
From the top of this hill, my road plunges to the valley below.
It's so steep that it requires a four-wheel-drive vehicle to make it up to my house.
It's even steeper walking up.
When snow is forecast, I park my car at the bottom of the hill so I can make it out to the county road, a mile away. More than three inches of snow, and my road becomes a toboggan run.
Brothers Mike and Rick Lynch, with Mike's grandson Jonathan, graded and rocked the road this past week, taking advantage of the unseasonably un-winter weather we've been enjoying.
It's been about nine years since it was last done, and was in bad need of repair.
Rick graded the road with his cat, and Mike delivered four loads of crushed rock. The road is so steep that Rick needed to chain up to Mike's truck with his cat, holding and lowering him down the hill so he could dump the rock.
When they were finished, Rick said it was the steepest road they had ever worked.
Made me kind of proud.
[First posted: March 2, 2015]
