Movin' on
Meandering with camera…
fond farewell…..?
We may be saying a sad farewell to our little camper at some point soon…
It’s taken us to some magical places, but the time has come to think of perhaps some shorter trips that are easier on this aging body (though not spirit!)
Can’t forget the night we spent at McKenzie Pass, elevation 5,325 feet ….
And just a small sample of the places we’ve been and the sights we’ve seen. It’s feeling like the closing of a chapter, but there’s still the images I’ve taken and saved to help revisit some truly fond memories.
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Rin
a happy anniversary…
The Cascades.
Memories are made of this… how it all started.
“So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”
― Herman Hesse, Bäume: Betrachtungen und Gedichte
just imagine the cooling breeze off the ocean
Even if it means oblivion, friends, I’ll welcome it, because it won’t be nothing. We’ll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we’ll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we’ll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.
― Philip Pullman, The Amber Spyglass
ghost mountains in the sky…
Rather unique clouds doing a good job of imitating a mountain range out there in the ocean, at the horizon. But nary a cloud up in the sky.
The conifer growth.
The wetland showing signs of restoration. This rather bedraggled wood duck appeared to be enjoying it. Not something often seen in this area.
“Thoreau the “Patron Saint of Swamps” because he enjoyed being in them and writing about them said, “my temple is the swamp… When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most impenetrable and to the citizen, most dismal, swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place, a sanctum sanctorum… I seemed to have reached a new world, so wild a place…far away from human society. What’s the need of visiting far-off mountains and bogs, if a half-hour’s walk will carry me into such wildness and novelty.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden and Other Writings
summertime…
The “Greenman” in the middle of the Gallery above as seen from a distance. His “hairdo” is easy to spot behind the skinny tree trunk in the center of the image……. we haven’t figured out if he’s natural or man assisted.
Art 101
Let’s see if I remember how to put a post together. Looks like I found a bit of inspiration.
Found along the Coast Highway…..
Definitely worth a stop if you’re driving along the Oregon Coast Highway.
Check it out reupit.art
flighty february – it’s a leap year….
Springtime has been making some promises.
Commitment gives you freedom because you’re no longer distracted by the unimportant and frivolous. Commitment gives you freedom because it hones your attention and focus, directing them toward what is most efficient at making you healthy and happy. Commitment makes decision-making easier and removes any fear of missing out; knowing that what you already have is good enough, why would you ever stress about chasing more, more, more again? Commitment allows you to focus intently on a few highly important goals and achieve a greater degree of success than you otherwise would.”
― Mark Manson, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life
wintry weather
I had been hoping for a sunset, but it turned out to be a very high tide with crashing waves for some exciting scenes instead.
The clouds blocked all but the slightest hint of sunset. The temperature was a mild 62º F (16.67° Celsius). Next to no wind on the path along the sand dunes, but the high tide left very little room to walk down on the beach. The wild waves more than made up for it.
Later that evening the predicted gale force winds arrived and shook the house while sudden squalls pelted us with rain that might have been on the edge of hail. I do love winter, but only if it doesn’t outstay it’s welcome.
So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?”
― Hunter S. Thompson
it was a very good year….
Picking the highlights ~~~~
“Enthusiasm is a supernatural serenity.”
― Henry David Thoreau, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
stormy weather……
We added another 7 inches of rain (in our rain gauge overnight). Thus the current state of the creek….
Somewhere I have a shot of the “meadow” above from last summer when the creek was a mere trickle. (If only I could find it… 🥴)
What was barely a trickle during the ~6 months of utterly dry summer…. This current storm (2 days) is up to maybe a foot (!!!) of accumulated rain so far, with perhaps another 4 days before it ends….. Luckily it’s coming down at a measured pace. I heard one of the squalls pass through as I fell asleep last night drumming on the metal roof. It helps to lull me to sleep.
Now it’s definitely a river.
I couldn’t find any pics of the creek taken this past autumn before the rains, but the above shows how low it was back in October 12, 2016. If I remember right, it was quite a bit lower this year before the rains arrived.
Still October 2016… quite serene. Gravel bars forming where the water spreads and slows.
A neighbor watching the creek flow by. The rising water seems to bring the wildlife down from the hills to visit.
Our neighbor the bobcat prowling in the aftermath of the flooded meadow. March 26, 2020.
This is one we don’t often see. I believe it was the first time we had a chance to get a photo. Not too bad given the goodly distance down to the meadow and the heavy cropping of the image. Not to mention shooting through a double pane window. I’m just thrilled to see this one paying a visit.
I’m not entirely sure if this is a visiting otter or a beaver, but this was at the flooded meadow on April 8, 2019.
I’m pretty sure this was a pair of beavers who came by about a week later.
Sadly we found a beaver shot earlier this year. I didn’t think they were doing any harm.
June, 2019 we found this one enjoying a snack. S/he was up the road a bit from our house. Bothering no one.
Looks like the rain may be slowing down a bit. For now. The creek has receded some. It seems to change every time I look out the window. So far no word of any slides or slippages or serious flooding. At least we’re staying warm and dry with the woodstove helping the heat pump do its thing. The fires up in the hills last summer provided a good amount of downed trees to get us through the winter.
Hoping everyone is staying safe and healthy…. it’s a relief to turn to the natural world while the human world seems to be going a bit mad.
Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.
― Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire
dithering
it’s been awhile since I posted. now wordpress is wanting more $$$…. I haven’t had the energy or inspiration to do any posting since early May… I may have missed out on the terrific SPECIAL offers WP was making to sign back on, but I haven’t yet decided whether to keep hanging on.
So…. this is just a test.
Aha…. looks like I’ve exceeded my 3 GB limit, so I’m limited to a few old images. Seems I can keep going if I delete some old shots. I have yet to see if I think it’s worth it or not.
Yet to be determined. Lord knows I was already having enough frustrating problems with WP back when I quit posting in May.
In the meantime, if anyone actually gets this post….. I’d like to wish y’all a belated Happy Thanksgiving, a very Merry Christmas and a far better New Year than this past one.
springing?
Dare I hope that I seem to be recovering from this past winter’s funk?
I’m thinking of trying something a bit different this time…. diving into some favorite quotes from a favorite author to put me in the mood and then digging into the maze of previous photos to accompany or accentuate them…
“The complex human eye harvests light. It perceives seven to ten million colors through a synaptic flash: one-tenth of a second from retina to brain. Homo sapiens gangs up to 70 percent of its sense receptors solely for vision, to anticipate danger and recognize reward, but also—more so—for beauty.”
― Ellen Meloy, The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky
“Of all the things I wondered about on this land, I wondered the hardest about the seduction of certain geographies that feel like home — not by story or blood but merely by their forms and colors. How our perceptions are our only internal map of the world, how there are places that claim you and places that warn you away. How you can fall in love with the light.”
― Ellen Meloy, The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky
“Its beauty stirs the imagination, and I wonder if the last refuge of all that is truly wild lies not on earth but in light.”
― Ellen Meloy, Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild
“Breathing, it seemed to me, was a proper attribute for the mountains… mountains that quietly functioned as a single thing with a rhythmic inhale-exhale I could feel…”
― Ellen Meloy, The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky
“For bighorns, topography is memory, enhanced by acute vision. They can anticipate the land’s every contour–when to leap, where to climb, when to turn, which footholds will support their muscular bodies. To survive, this is what the band would have to do: make this perfect match of flesh to earth.”
― Ellen Meloy, Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild
“Shall we be honest about this? The mind needs wild animals. The body needs the trek that takes it looking for them.”
― Ellen Meloy, Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild
The eyes are telling me it’s time to shut it down. Hope you enjoyed the views and the words and the thoughts…
WP has given me enough fits for today!
random experiment
So what happens if I merely post a slideshow and put it on auto-play?
“There are, it seems, two muses: the Muse of Inspiration, who gives us inarticulate visions and desires, and the Muse of Realization, who returns again and again to say “It is yet more difficult than you thought.” This is the muse of form. It may be then that form serves us best when it works as an obstruction, to baffle us and deflect our intended course. It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
― Wendell Berry
a bit of spring to my step…
Seems like winter didn’t want to let go this year. The magical snow was a treat as were the waves of rain that swept in these last several months, one after the other. It’s been a time to hunker down a bit. But enough is enough. Hope SPRINGs eternal as shy little buds begin to emerge.
The laughing buddha welcomes spring flowers….
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.
― Rachel Carson, Silent Spring
On soft Spring nights I’ll stand in the yard under the stars – Something good will come out of all things yet – And it will be golden and eternal just like that – There’s no need to say another word.
― Jack Kerouac, Big Sur
Turkey tails looking perky after the recent rains
True beauty, the kind that doesn’t fade or wash off, takes time. It takes incredible endurance. It is the slow drip that creates the stalactite, the shaking of the Earth that creates mountains, the constant pounding of the waves that breaks up the rocks and smooths the rough edges. And from the violence, the furor, the raging of the winds, the roaring of the waters, something better emerges, something that would have otherwise never existed.
And so we endure. We have faith that there is purpose. We hope for things we can’t see. We believe there are lessons in loss, power in love, and that we have within us the potential for a beauty so magnificent, our bodies can’t contain it.
― Amy Harmon, Making Faces
A springtime bouquet…. a leopard lily in waiting, wake robins, a dandelion – one of the early bloomers, a camas lily, trilliums… judging by pictures taken in prior years the flowers are roughly two weeks late. But all the more appreciated. The reward for enduring all those rainy days.
[use the little arrows to scroll through the slides “< or >”]
What was just a tiny trickle of water not so very long ago…
And I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But most of all, I learned that life is about sitting on benches next to ancient creeks with my hand on her knee and sometimes, on good days, for falling in love.
― Nicholas Sparks
A rather sad Quail tale… last autumn we had a power pole replaced on the steep bank behind the house. It was a spot where our multiple families of quail hung out and came to visit us over the years, bringing their batches of babies in the springtime. We had to clear some of the brush where they hid out. Then there was the commotion while the new pole was installed. The quail disappeared entirely from our yard for months, but we found some of them roughly a mile up the road in the blackberry vine thickets.
Eventually, as the activity calmed down, one small batch of quail reappeared. They would hang out under the bird feeder until one of us slowly, quietly went out to toss some seed, with a whistle or a chuckle for reassurance. They would scamper/fly up the bank until we went back inside. There was always the patriarch who perched on the poles watching over the group.
… until one day he disappeared. Then another, and another went missing without the more experienced one looking after them. This group of six gradually dwindled to just two remaining, and then…
I watched from the kitchen window one morning as I caught a sudden flurry of motion with a quail diving down the steep bank and suddenly feathers were flying in the air…. Horrified, I expected that we were down to a single remaining Quail. 🥴
Two days went by, hoping but fearing the worst, until… Momma Quail showed up with tail feathers missing. (Use the arrows to get to the last shot for a closer look at Momma with her tail feathers missing, but still seemingly alive and well.) Thankfully her mate was still with her. (Both can be seen in the first shot. The male in the top right corner, with tail feathers intact.)
The Jays try to bully the Quail, but they aren’t entirely successful at intimidating the Quail. The Quail are noticeably more skittish since the recent attacks (presumably by a hawk). We have seen what we suspect to be a Cooper’s Hawk hanging about… when all the birds seem to disappear. We have also noticed the Quail occasionally turning to ‘statues’ for minutes at a time… presumably as a predator has been noticed in the area.
My sweety caught this shot of the suspect……
And then…..
Gypsy. A friend’s precious new arrival…. We get to ‘borrow’ her when she’s a wee bit older. Only half poodle. A very nice mix with a bit of lab.
I leave you with glimpses of our Allen’s hummingbirds as they stop on their way north.
stayin’ put…
growing older… or just slowing down. or simply under the weather a bit…
lost in the clouds…
…around here they call it a snag…
… sometimes I can’t help but wish I was there again … perhaps if the weather settles down?
… back when … a bit of time travel before my eyes tell me it’s time to quit staring at the pretty pictures…
… the images captured in time to take me back to other times and places… the fun we had.
The guardian of our domain… the heron tree as seen from the kitchen sink (why we sometimes bicker over who GETS to do the dishes) …
We all have our time machines, don’t we. Those that take us back are memories…And those that carry us forward, are dreams.
― H.G. Wells
time to close my eyes….
a very rare and exquisite snow event
One kind intrepid soul was up early enough to catch this winter wonderland scene along the creek while I snuggled under the warm covers that morning…
This sort of snow accumulation is a rare and precious event so close to the coast. Once in a while we do get a sprinkling of the white stuff, but most often it has melted by the time this night owl crawls out of bed.
Our willow trees growing along the edge of the creek have a tendency to lie down, but with snow weighing down the branches, some of them pretty much collapsed.
Presumably our beavers are happy for easier access to their food supply.
Remnants of a beaver meal …
Wow, it really snowed last night! Isn’t it wonderful? Everything familiar has disappeared! The world looks brand new!
A new year … a fresh, clean start! It’s like having a big white sheet of paper to draw on! A day full of possibilities! It’s a magical world, Hobbes, ol’ buddy … let’s go exploring!
― Bill Watterson, It’s a Magical World
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
― Anais Nin
Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.
― Franz Kafka
The creek transformed…
Ten minutes later, another small squall moves in and hides the sun.
Yet another eager one to burst thinking that the warmer weather the previous weeks meant we were done with winter… apparently not just yet.
Later… snow sparkling in the sunlight greeted me when I opened the blinds…
Our visitors enjoying a bit of seed. Whatever the mobs of Jays have left.
We had to swap out the hummingbird feeder when it started snowing again (!!!!) later in the day…
A graphic example of the snow accumulation on the rock duck as the day progressed.
Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness.
― Mary Oliver
And the next morning there was still time to catch the trees all cloaked in white.
The sun nudged the clouds away to start the process of melting the snow weighing down the branches.
Looks like the birds were hungry.
Same Anna’s Hummingbird male… color changes with the lighting. Note slide #3 shows the nictitating membrane… an extra eyelid that protects the eye while still allowing some vision.
link HERE for a better explanation.
And now after a mere two days of this sparkly white stuff, it’s melting away for the most part and the tiny violets are blooming and the camas lilly leaves are at least 3 inches tall. We’re due for more of this snowy stuff in the coming week, with more freezing temps at night… hope the flowers can cope.
Still here….
In case anyone missed me? It seems it was the weather and the combination of a computer crash. Much time has been spent on trying to recover old and very dear photographs. Too many of them. This time I’m investing the time (and dear lord! give me patience!) to sort through tens of thousands. Perhaps with a bit less chaos.
As I sort through old and nearly forgotten images from the early days with a newfangled digital camera! Oh how I struggled with all the new buttons it presented.
Those carefree solitary days… Forever without any plans… hoping to catch that moment when the stars or skies aligned… The fortune at the end of the Rainbow…
You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.
― Henry David Thoreau
It occurs to me that this return to images in the past might be seen as “looking toward another land”?
It’s taking so long to sort and snip through too many images I simply let pile up… it’s given me the impetus to make an attempt to organize… but it takes time given the chaos from these many years past…
So before trying to return the backups to the crashed photo processing software… I’m rooting around in the originals out there in the nether regions of the backup files… (How would it be to actually find a particular image when I go searching… if only I’d stuck with a logical system.) sigh
In other words, you’re getting them as they were shot, without interference by ‘photo-shopping’… tilted horizons and all and still learning all the buttons and bells and whistles of the new-fangled camera…. in the ‘raw’ so to speak. Back then.
They still carry some fond memories of those times…
I can get lost in the places they take me back to…
What is real to me is the power of our awareness when we are focused on something beyond ourselves. It is a shaft of light shining in a dark corner. Our ability to shift our perceptions and seek creative alternatives to the conondrums of modernity is in direct proportion to our empathy. Can we imagine, witness, and ultimately feel the suffering of another?
― Terry Tempest Williams, Finding Beauty in a Broken World
The locals call it Winter Lake… it used to flood back in the days when we had a solid rainy season.
In summer it’s usually cow pasture. There’s quite a bit of dairy farming in this region.
There used to be duck hunters out this time of year. Before this, too, returns to cow pasture. I soon learned that we had two seasons: wet and dry.
I want to feel both the beauty and the pain of the age we are living in. I want to survive my life without becoming numb. I want to speak and comprehend word of wounding without having these words become the landscape where I dwell. I want to possess a light touch that can elevate darkness to the realm of stars.
― Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice
Creativity involves breaking out of established patterns in order to look at things in a different way. ― When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice
Is this the curse of modernity, to live in a world without judgment, without perspective, no context for understanding or distinguishing what is real and what is imagined, what is manipulated and what is by chance beautiful, what is shadow and what is flesh?
― Terry Tempest Williams
it was a very good year…
going back about a decade…
One thing a ripe, vintage type brain is good for is that the fun times have drifted back in memory…. softening and sifting back to those wonderful times. Somewhat faded…. But these photos manage to put me right back in the moment to savor the beauty and the joy of those fleeting moments.
The prelude to the wonderful year that was to come was five years of truly being on my own… not restrained, nor pinned down to anything specific… It gave me so many wonderful chances to wander the beaches at the right moments when the sun and the sky and the sea would be putting on their most spectacular shows. A time when I could look outside to know when the skies and light would be perfect. Drop whatever it was I was doing and head west… The timing was everything because these shows tend to appear on an erratic schedule… and don’t last very long. How do you plan for that perfect moment?
Those five years of freedom helped me recover from the years of care-giving for someone who was utterly dependent on me. Fourteen years so close to the Pacific Ocean out there and I only managed to step on the beach a couple of times…
So near and yet so far… this, before the days when wheelchairs could be equipped to go on sandy beaches….
It was a healing time for me to catch the drift of “Movin’ on”. That was the impetus behind the blog to begin with.
How could I not be drawn to the colors of the sand and sea and rocks and sky…. at any given moment.
To be whole. To be complete. Wildness reminds us what it means to be human, what we are connected to rather than what we are separate from.”
― Terry Tempest Williams
Where the waves touch the sand…
The Eyes of the Future are looking back at us and they are praying for us to see beyond our own time.
― Terry Tempest Williams, Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert
moisture…
Autumn falls… there’s moisture up in the hills where there are trees… you could almost swim in that moisture.
That one good rain leaving enough for a float.
Seems well worth saving to me….
One is happy once one knows the necessary ingredients of happiness: simple tastes, a certain degree of courage, self denial to a point, love of work, and above all, a clear conscience.
― George Sand, Correspondance, 1812-1876, Volume 5
Water pouring from the hillsides, filling the creek…
Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.
― Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice
Leaf litter left to disintegrate intact helps to slow erosion from the heavier rains. Nourishes the soil. And it has its own innate beauty. No raking required…
Everything reaching for the much anticipated moisture…
What other species now require of us is our attention. Otherwise, we are entering a narrative of disappearing intelligences.
― Terry Tempest Williams, Finding Beauty in a Broken World
The sun lights up an Oregon Grape leaf that’s seen better days perhaps …
Glimpses of the creek roaring between fallen boulders… in spots too steep or rugged for me to get a closer look. Just breathing in that wild air is a refresher. And the sound…. soporific
Small wonder I’m often found snuggled up with a good book much of these days.
Tiny lichen cups almost too small to capture while wobbling on a steep slope… the penny for scale…
The growth overhead anything but tiny…
Our kinship with Earth must be maintained; otherwise, we will find ourselves trapped in the center of our own paved-over souls with no way out.
― Terry Tempest Williams, Finding Beauty in a Broken World
Still hanging on…
Mushrooms so tiny, so shy, too easy to overlook.
The world in miniature…
Find the tiny (VERY tiny!) mushrooms hiding in the upper left quadrant… too tiny to see until downloaded to the big screen. My eyesight seems to be fading a bit it seems…
No wreaths required.
The dreaded Himalayan blackberry vine creeping out to the road…. just don’t stand still for too long or you’re apt to be entangled in its thorny embrace. Though, to be honest, the berries are quite tasty and the many wild critters do seem to like them… if only they didn’t bury every little thing in their path. Here the vines reach out to cross the road… ever to conquer new territory. It goes to some remarkable lengths. I could almost admire their stamina if they weren’t such a nuisance.
At first I thought (orange seeds or mushrooms)…. but a closer look suggests the fruiting bodies of the lichen? Everything waking to the moisture in the air.
And then, there it is… that first touch of frost that sticks around for most of the day…. We’ve had some cold (freezing) nights for nearly a week and seems like not quite enough rain for this time of year. There was a smattering last night. The cloud cover helped it to warm up a bit.
Escapee from a log truck…
A new neighbor- first there was one Swainson’s Thrush… attacking the mirrors on the vehicles…. leaving a mess, whether out of aggression or boredom. Then along came a companion and things seem a bit more peaceful…. though we still put the plastic bags over the mirrors…
If they’ve been here before, I’ve never seen them quite so eager to pose.
Just another day before we start adding moments of daylight… it would be lovely to have a few of our ordinary winter storms.
Approaching Solstice…
When daylight turns the corner. This time of year the slanted sun beaming down through the ravine lights up the remaining leaves at a certain time of day….
For far too long we have been seduced into walking a path that did not lead us to ourselves. For far too long we have said yes when we wanted to say no. And for far too long we have said no when we desperately wanted to say yes. . . .
When we don’t listen to our intuition, we abandon our souls. And we abandon our souls because we are afraid if we don’t, others will abandon us.
― Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice
Heading north along the coast we were escorted by five swans…. Tundra Swans? Hard to tell from photos shot through the window of a moving car at a goodly distance, but it was a thrill none the less.
Rainbow clouds portents of wild weather to come…. we weren’t nearly as prepared for the extended power outage as we should have been. The years here have taught me to expect the first winter storm to bring down some trees rooted in ground saturated by the first winter storm. But power was restored by the next morning. I try not to think about any trees hitting the house. We are surrounded by some giants.
We suspect this (Red-tailed) hawk may well be the culprit behind our missing quail… we watched them one day when they froze like statues for what seemed like five minutes or more. They have been acting a bit skittish of late and three seem to have gone missing. We are trying to modify the feeding routine from a schedule the hawk may have noticed or learned.
Taking advantage of a break in the weather for a pleasant hike along the creek….
Enough water in the creek for a kayak trip.
Remnants of the storm that passed through during the night. (Pity the power lines get in the way… but I’m just not adept enough at PhotoShop to eliminate them… and I couldn’t find a spot where I could line up the clouds from the bedroom window without the wires.)
That’s not a colorful sunset…. the stump farms leave huge, gigantic piles of branches stripped from the logs they’ve been cutting up in the hills. They wait for a good, heavy rainstorm to light the piles of “slash” … looks a bit like a sunset… a bit reminiscent of the wildfire that came close that first summer we were here.
Finding beauty in a broken world is creating beauty in the world we find.
― Terry Tempest Williams
Perhaps a Fox Sparrow. Not an easy one to capture… He mostly likes hiding out in the undergrowth. Rarely seen out in the open.
Last, but not least… can’t leave without a peek at Chubby Cheeks (aka Buster).
What is real to me is the power of our awareness when we are focused on something beyond ourselves. It is a shaft of light shining in a dark corner. Our ability to shift our perceptions and seek creative alternatives to the conondrums of modernity is in direct proportion to our empathy. Can we imagine, witness, and ultimately feel the suffering of another?
― Terry Tempest Williams, Finding Beauty in a Broken World
travel back in time…
Early adventures on the road…
Early morning light in the Mojave Desert
Men come and go, cities rise and fall, whole civilizations appear and disappear-the earth remains, slightly modified. The earth remains, and the heartbreaking beauty where there are no hearts to break….I sometimes choose to think, no doubt perversely, that man is a dream, thought an illusion, and only rock is real. Rock and sun.
― Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness
Prickly plants proliferate…
Water, water, water….There is no shortage of water in the desert but exactly the right amount , a perfect ratio of water to rock, water to sand, insuring that wide free open, generous spacing among plants and animals, homes and towns and cities, which makes the arid West so different from any other part of the nation. There is no lack of water here unless you try to establish a city where no city should be.
― Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness
Some of you may remember the theme song: Get your kicks on Route 66
The Desert has its own sort of beauty, just not in the middle of summer. (At least not for me!)
And back then we thought over $5 @ gallon was outrageous. I hate to think what the cost might be these days
-out there in the middle of nowhere where there are no other options…
Traveling down dusty desert roads to the next campsite…
Sunset paints the desert in different hues…
No more cars in national parks. Let the people walk. Or ride horses, bicycles, mules, wild pigs–anything–but keep the automobiles and the motorcycles and all their motorized relatives out. We have agreed not to drive our automobiles into cathedrals, concert halls, art museums, legislative assemblies, private bedrooms and the other sanctums of our culture; we should treat our national parks with the same deference, for they, too, are holy places. An increasingly pagan and hedonistic people (thank God!), we are learning finally that the forests and mountains and desert canyons are holier than our churches. Therefore let us behave accordingly.”
― Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire
falling light
The beginning of November arrived with some much needed moisture…
Virga – when rain doesn’t touch the ground… (or the ocean?)
What remains once the lagoon has let loose… and the clouds bring rain.
Where the creek pours into the sea… (hopefully also where the salmon and the trout head up the creek to spawn…
Walking along the edge of the creek… the vegetation has come alive with moisture and color…
Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it by yourself.
It is not far. It is within reach.
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know.
Perhaps it is everywhere – on water and land.
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
Long enough have you dream’d contemptible dreams,
Now I wash the gum from your eyes,
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light
and of every moment of your life
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
A stealth November moon with promises of a bit more rain…
Top middle might be the last time I caught all eight. It was soon after this that the patriarch who sat above and watched over the covey went missing… We moved the feeding station up on the bank (larger, bottom image-) closer to cover where they might be a bit safer from overhead raptors… though it’s possible the disappearance may have been from natural causes (no feathers were in evidence).
This valiant little Anna’s hummingbird did battle over this territory. He sits guarding the fuschia bushes. He looks to be a youngster who may have chased off the original pair… or they may have chosen to migrate. This species is amazingly aggressive for their diminutive size. They’re always fun to watch. (& photograph).
Fuschia still in bloom. I’ve looked it up. There seem to be far too many variations of spelling for this dancer of a flower.
Seeds growing and dispersing everywhere…
Queen Anne’s Lace bursting with seeds…
Evergreen Myrtlewood leaves comingled with various other life forms.
There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now;
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
To the States or any one of them, or any city of the States, Resist much, obey little,
Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved,
Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever after-ward resumes its liberty.
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
the storms of November…
How can I miss you if you don’t go away? 😵
The welcome committee… The California Red-legged Frog… (click for a link)
He 🥰 brings back images of what he’s seen and endured those several days (- you’ll see…. 😉).
The first winter storms FINALLY!
The river had been dry enough at the ocean’s edge that the surf built a dam from the sand dunes. Those first rains flowing downriver were trapped until there was enough water to break down that dam.
The developing storm expands the estuary. Spreads it out in the surrounding pastures. The storms come in waves.
The parking lot at the estuary overflowing. It made it possible to float the kayak up from the boat launch.
Catching a Peregrine Falcon chasing a flock of Starlings… amidst gathering clouds and much anticipated rain.
A Phoebe on a fence post in the rain.
Snatching bugs out of the air.
Into each life… a bit of rain and then a rainbow…
The ceremonies that persist—birthdays, weddings, funerals— focus only on ourselves, marking rites of personal transition. […]
We know how to carry out this rite for each other and we do it well. But imagine standing by the river, flooded with those same feelings as the Salmon march into the auditorium of their estuary. Rise in their honor, thank them for all the ways they have enriched our lives, sing to honor their hard work and accomplishments against all odds, tell them they are our hope for the future, encourage them to go off into the world to grow, and pray that they will come home. Then the feasting begins. Can we extend our bonds of celebration and support from our own species to the others who need us?
Many indigenous traditions still recognize the place of ceremony and often focus their celebrations on other species and events in the cycle of the seasons. In a colonist society the ceremonies that endure are not about land; they’re about family and culture, values that are transportable from the old country. Ceremonies for the land no doubt existed there, but it seems they did not survive emigration in any substantial way. I think there is wisdom in regenerating them here, as a means to form bonds with this land.
― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass
A lot of feathered friends enjoying the overflowing waters.
A closer look…
To him, all good things – trout as well as eternal salvation – came by grace; and grace comes by art; and art does not come easy.
― Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories
River Otters cavorting in the water…
Returning from a quick trip into town to dry some soggy clothes… the sun has come out to play and light up the estuary.
Back to the kayak to explore…
This is now a different place from what it was two hours ago. There is no mysterious essence we can call a ‘place’. Place is change. It is motion killed by the mind, and preserved in the amber of memory.
― J.A. Baker, The Peregrine: The Hill of Summer Diaries: The Complete Works of J. A. Baker
Only to discover that the very moment when the river made its escape was missed by perhaps an hour….
Just as well I say since I hate to think of the surge of water that could very well have carried that little floaty boat out to sea… (taking all these treasured images with it.)
A closer look at the bank left behind, indicating the depth of the water before the exodus.
A look at what remains of the river which was barely a trickle near the end of the long dry summer.
A closer look at Piglet snoozing on the beach.
“Oh, Eeyore, you are wet!” said Piglet, feeling him.
Eeyore shook himself, and asked somebody to explain to Piglet what happened when you had been inside a river for quite a long time.”
― A. A. Milne
Looking north as more magical clouds come rolling in… the beach strewn with debris left behind during the exodus.
Not to overlook the piles of knotted kelp.
At first glance I thought these were pebbles, but a closer look seems to suggest some sort of plant life… something resembling a succulent perhaps.
Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you kneel to say your nightly prayer. And let faith be the bridge you build to overcome evil and welcome good.
― Maya Angelou, Celebrations: Rituals of Peace and Prayer
A bit of beach sculpture… and, of course, my partner wanted to take that tree in the midground home… but I don’t suppose it would have fit in the kayak… (thank heavens!!!)
Pastureland at the edge of the river again shows how high the river had been perhaps an hour earlier… (maybe a wee bit longer).
Zoomed in for a closer look at the waterfall emptying the fields as the water flows out to sea.
A look upstream with plenty of water now for the salmon to return to their spawning places. I’m thinking they must have been anxious since the rains seemingly came late this year.
A lovely end to a magical day.
God (crepuscular) rays for a perfect ending… (click for an explanation)
Sunrise the next morning as the river continues its flow out to the Pacific.
Then…. lastly…
A random shot up by the lighthouse…. the woman’s expression has me puzzzled. Awestruck… or amazed…. or disgruntled? or perhaps simply bored (how could that possibly BE???) I keep returning to try to interpret the look.
Fall in full swing…
Celebrating October… and another Scorpio enters the world… Welcome baby Leio!!!
I simply can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be…
The sun and the clouds and the waves called to me. I couldn’t resist. I think it took twice as long as usual to get home.
Seems the rain has brought some color to the autumn leaves…. to brighten a world seeming to grow grey….
The quail seem to be getting better at posing… We still have the covey of eight… and they seem to be adjusting into our routine again… somewhat.
And that is just the point… how the world, moist and beautiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That’s the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. “Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?”
― Mary Oliver
Color returns.
A shy little beauty. I forget where or when…
The seas, the waves, the clouds, the skies…. sometimes they simply align.
You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.
― Henry David Thoreau
Kelp beavers marching to sea… our nearest guess for the distance traveled by the kelp is maybe 30 miles?
We were there to watch the creek making its escape into the sea.
Once upon a time, the murky, foamy looking stuff was unsettling (thinking it was some sort of pollution). Turns out this is more likely accumulated organic material washed into the rivers and creeks as they run down the hillsides.
That second abstract swirl was a spot where the water running down the creek met up with the incoming tide of the sea.
It’s good to get back to the beach again…..
a breath of humidity…
The longed for moisture -first fog and mist, then up to a hefty 0.2 inches over the past few days… but it feels like there just might be more to come… (hope springs?)
Nearing the spooky season…
One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise.
― Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac
sigh
I ‘m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.
― L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
The quail covey is getting a bit less shy of late… they occasionally show up when I call, but still disappear if I dare go outside… for now.
Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.”
― Lauren DeStefano, Wither
If any of my friends and visitors have noticed…. that I seem to be rather sporadic in my appearances of late… it’s partly my laziness in turning the desktop on and that crick I get in my neck from sitting staring at the screen too long… but I have to say I’m annoyed with WordPress AGAIN… My patience is running thin with weird kinks getting comments and replies through to certain folks (randomly for the most part, or so it seems). NOW the latest kink is that I don’t get notifications….. I can’t cope with trying to post or sign in on the iPad….
First world problems, I know, but……. 🥴
I’m seriously debating whether to sign on for another annual fee?????
October so far…
First… a breath of fresh air as the autumn mists return… sneaking up the creek as the day nears its end…. As if the hillsides are inhaling and exhaling.
The creek is low, but still some pools remain in the shade of the willows and other vegetation. I’m hoping to see the beaver and otter (hopefully) return once the creek fills up again. Into the Mistic…. 😉
I don’t ask for the meaning of the song of a bird or the rising of the sun on a misty morning. There they are, and they are beautiful.
― Pete Hamill
The roses seem to be thriving from the discarded dishwater they’ve been getting lately. That 0.2″ of rain we had perked them up as well. Did you notice the spider who likes to hang out in these roses?
We’re happy to see the quail making themselves at home again… this covey of eight has been coming around at least once daily lately.
Patience is not the ability to wait. Patience is to be calm no matter what happens, constantly take action to turn it to positive growth opportunities, and have faith to believe that it will all work out in the end while you are waiting.
― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart
time still seeming to fly…
Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love – that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”
[Letter to Miss Lewis, Oct. 1, 1841]
― George Eliot, George Eliot’s Life, as Related in Her Letters and Journals
continuing…
Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.
― Lao Tzu
I ponder the history of this strange building. I wonder if anyone notices the contrast?
I sometimes wonder who wins out… us busy little humans with the big machines… or Momma Nature. Words by Sue Nah-mee.
But first some restless/full waves and swirls from above…
Just watch that first step….
It’s good to be back again. I’ve missed y’all…. (though there’s much catching up to do around the homestead. ) Luckily the flood of loud vehicles will slow to a dull roar as the rivers (hopefully) begin their stormy songs. Hopefully there’s enough rain, soon enough to keep us from having another nasty record breaking wildfire season.
Wishing you all peace and serenity in these unsettling times. I’m thinking we’ll all get through this one way or the other. Keep the faith! (lower case please)
wordless wednesday…
coming attractions…
We took a time out to catch a sunset…
Hopefully once we get past this month, I’ll be able to post a bit more.
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
― Wendell Berry, The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry
patience…
Sometimes the right place at the right time happens…
Serenity…
The creek is down to a trickle until the rains return. I can manage to scramble along the rocky gravel bars. I can even cross the creek, perhaps getting my boots just a bit wet in some unexpected deeper spot.
The wet rocks can be a wee bit slick and slippery. It’s good to have a walking stick… just in case.
Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.
― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky
I scarcely remember counting upon happiness—I look not for it if it be not in the present hour—nothing startles me beyond the moment. The setting sun will always set me to rights, or if a sparrow come before my Window I take part in its existence and pick about the gravel.
― Keats John
Wildness is the preservation of the World.
― Henry David Thoreau, Walking
There is a LIGHT in this world. A healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter. We sometime lose sight of this force when there is suffering, and too much pain. Then suddenly, the spirit will emerge through the lives of ordinary people who hear a call and answer in extraordinary ways.
― Sir Richard Attenborough
Respite…
Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for.
― Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now
(there’s a link above if you want to know…)
Three stages of thistle…
Lots of toxic warnings, but they grow (volunteer) in great abundance around here.
I meant to dust some of those cobwebs, but now that I’m reminded, I can’t disturb the birds. They seem to be quite busy….
Here’s a link to a video of what is happening HERE… (pretty cool if you’re not squeamish.)
The video is a different bird, but same principle… we’ve seen our swallow pair do it as well.
We had an incident yesterday in the region that was a bit too close to home. Very close to where we were when I snapped the above shot. All a bit unnerving. The article doesn’t provide a great deal of details, but it’s all I’ve got:
Oregon man who started wildfire ends up tied to a tree… Here’s the link: https://www.oregonlive.com/wildfires/2022/07/oregon-man-who-started-wildfires-ends-up-tied-to-tree-by-locals-sheriff-says.html
Or life in the wild, wild west??? Or one might think… only in Oregon?
We’ve been staying pretty close to home as the summer chores get crossed off the list… and the summer throngs thin out a bit…
Sometimes the desire to be lost again, as long ago, comes over me like a vapor. With growth into adulthood, responsibilities claimed me, so many heavy coats. I didn’t choose them, I don’t fault them, but it took time to reject them. Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.
― Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays
I leave you with the following….. yet another threatened species as the climate warms……
For years the polar bear has been the symbol of the climate change movement. But today the American pika has good grounds to compete with the polar bear for this unwanted honor. American pikas are suffering because climate change has brought higher temperatures to their western mountain homes. Pikas have already disappeared from more than one-third of their previously known habitat in Oregon and Nevada. Despite their dire situation, the American pika is not federally listed under in the Endangered Species Act. Without protection and help, American pikas could be the first species to go extinct due to climate change.
Pikas live in high mountain ecosystems that are cool and moist. The pika has adapted to life in areas that rarely get above freezing and can overheat and die when exposed to temperatures as mild as 78 degrees Fahrenheit. Unlike other mountain species that can move to higher altitudes in warming climates, pikas live so high on the mountain that there is no where for them to go. Trapped at the top, alpine wildlife is vulnerable to several of climate change’s damaging effects, including vegetation changes, the invasion of new predators and pests, reduced winter snowpack, and increases in extreme weather events.
In the Great Basin—the arid region between the Rocky Mountains and California’s Sierra Nevada—pikas already are disappearing. Scientists say the animal’s decline may signal problems for other species, from butterflies and birds to large mammals.
summertime escape
For those of us yearning for a glimpse of the Pacific coast, there are the days you happen to catch a perfect day with just a hint of clouds… and, of course, some afternoon fog drifting in out near the horizon never hurts to cool things down a bit.
.
Then the male showed up alone some days later…. we wondered and stressed… (keeping in mind that we’d been seeing some feral cats on the trail cam on several nights).
Like winds and sunsets, wild things were taken for granted until progress began to do away with them. Now we face the question whether a still higher ‘standard of living’ is worth its cost in things natural, wild and free. For us of the minority, the opportunity to see geese is more important than television.
― Aldo Leopold
We abuse land because we see it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.
― Aldo Leopold
There are some who can live without wild things and some who cannot.
― Aldo Leopold
Season 5 or 6 of the quail families and their newest generation…
Our ability to perceive quality in nature begins, as in art, with the pretty. It expands through successive stages of the beautiful to values as yet uncaptured by language.
― Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac and Sketches Here and There
he brings me flowers…
Luckily this charming little creature didn’t enter the house… this is quite close enough!
Or a warning? Must avoid… poison oak… even when it’s in stealth green mode… rather than the red I was taught to avoid.
Seems this summer has been just damp and cool enough to keep things green or blooming. The misty rain has felt unusual and unexpected, though very welcome. It seems to have revived a bit of cheer and energy in me.
And I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But most of all, I learned that life is about sitting on benches next to ancient creeks with my hand on her knee and sometimes, on good days, for falling in love.
― Nicholas Sparks
The rain has stopped and the water in the creek has dropped appreciably.
The trees that have fallen clear across the creek are creating new gravel bars and cutting new channels. Creates habitat for fish and other creatures large and small.
Looks like the Sandpiper chicks are on their own. They are quite wary and these shots were taken with a long lens and cropped heavily. It’s good to see them developing.
Looks like the Great Blue Heron has returned to his summer territory…
Interesting fun facts about Heron’s specialized spinal structure that allows them to spear fish and the position of their eyes that allow them to see what is at their feet as seen in the first image…
Wait for the 2nd section to see what they see….
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
― Wendell Berry
splendor in the grass…
Quite suddenly the temperatures have warmed and the spigot to the warm scattered showers seems to have been shut tight… it starts to feel like summer.
Ten times a day something happens to me like this – some strengthening throb of amazement – some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.
― Mary Oliver
It’s the Meadow Knapweed (Centaurea moncktonii) I’m enthralled with this delicate, fragile little beauty popping up in this setting.
Here’s a link, if you’re so inclined: https://www.oregonencyclopedia.org/articles/meadow_knapweed/
How can anything this lovely be called a ‘weed’?
Then again anything that can seemingly thrive in a spot so entirely inhospitable… can you imagine if you had it taking over your garden?
Be careful what you water your dreams with. Water them with worry and fear and you will produce weeds that choke the life from your dream. Water them with optimism and solutions and you will cultivate success. Always be on the lookout for ways to turn a problem into an opportunity for success. Always be on the lookout for ways to nurture your dream.
― Lao Tzu
Not to overlook this sweet little bud. One I’ve always loved, but the name slips away. That perfect delicate shade of blue-ish.
A quick snapshot through the windshield to catch this osprey building its nest at a twisty spot on the road with nowhere to stop. It’s just a thrill to realize that they are there along the river’s edge.
A new totem rescued from the creekbed where it may have been pickled for ages…
To quote my beloved:
“Long ago pitch-soaked knots of spruce buried in the river bed emerged this spring and now finds new life on our fence. Rings of wood around conifer branches, the ‘knots’ are the last thing which remains of old growth giants. The dense concentration of pitch makes the wood resilient and heavy. They sink to the bottom and get buried in the river gravels where they begin the process of petrification.”
Petrification: Thus- the process by which organic material becomes a fossil through the replacement of the original material and the filling of the original pore spaces with minerals.
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don’t Hesitate)
― Mary Oliver, Swan: Poems and Prose Poems
Wishing those of us here in the states who are celebrating the Fourth a safe, healthy and happy holiday.
summer tiptoes in…
A river runs through it
Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her.
― William Wordsworth
The California poppies are pushing their glowing blossoms through the oat grasses that are helping to keep the blackberry vines from reasserting their dominance. The lupin peeps through as well… it seems that the showers and sprinkles have been to their liking. We seem to have enticed a whole bunch of dragonflies with the new flowers blossoming along the bank… If they would just sit still enough for a portrait!
Of all the things I wondered about on this land, I wondered the hardest about the seduction of certain geographies that feel like home — not by story or blood but merely by their forms and colors. How our perceptions are our only internal map of the world, how there are places that claim you and places that warn you away. How you can fall in love with the light.
― Ellen Meloy, The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky
“How you can fall in love with the light….”
Or perhaps even shadow….?
Apologies to friends and followers… life has thrown us a few kinks… to be worked out, but I’d like to apologize for going missing with visits and comments to your posts… My inbox is overflowing. To try to catch up might be stressful, so I’ll just jump back in where and when I can…
The Spotted Sandpipers have at least one new family member… ever elusive and well camouflaged.
A Dipper hiding in the brush…
This Quail couple are regular visitors, but we don’t often see them taking advantage of the upturned wine barrel bird bath. Dad always seems to be on guard watching intently over Momma. Perhaps we’ll be seeing some Quail chicks soon.
The complex human eye harvests light. It perceives seven to ten million colors through a synaptic flash: one-tenth of a second from retina to brain. Homo sapiens gangs up to 70 percent of its sense receptors solely for vision, to anticipate danger and recognize reward, but also—more so—for beauty.
― Ellen Meloy, The Anthropology of Turquoise: Reflections on Desert, Sea, Stone, and Sky
Shall we be honest about this? The mind needs wild animals. The body needs the trek that takes it looking for them.
― Ellen Meloy, Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild
the hills are alive 🎶🎶…
Seems as though the unexpected rain we’ve had this past month has brought out an abundance of blooming wildflowers. Two sets of sharp eyes are needed to search for these delights since things tend to grow extra small up in our hills. Perhaps between the two of us we can claim a single shared set? Still… it seems we didn’t do too badly in our quest of discovery.
And far too many to count or name or identify…
What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”
― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
Different shores…
Once upon a time we ventured quite a few miles to the north (~300mi/~400km and that wasn’t even half the distance to our destination)… where things turned a bit more sodden. The land of the seasonal temperate rainforest -otherwise known as the Pacific NorthWest- where the fog encircled and welcomed us. Where the ravages of stump farms hadn’t quite infiltrated… yet. It’s like an entirely different world.
We are experiencing a rather unexpected day of gentle, misty rain. It seems a bit unusual so close to June, normally the start of our dry stretch of months. But we are grateful for this blessing. It also seems to be prompting some extra posting inspiration….
It was by no means a Disappointment.
I couldn’t stop clicking the shutter.
Guard well within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness.
― George Sand
I believe we heard them before we saw them… they didn’t seem too bothered by us.
Patterns against a cloud filled blue sky.
We stand now where two roads diverge. But unlike the roads in Robert Frost’s familiar poem, they are not equally fair. The road we have long been traveling is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on which we progress with great speed, but at its end lies disaster. The other fork of the road–the one less traveled by–offers our last, our only chance to reach a destination that assures the preservation of the earth. ― Rachel Carson, Silent Spring
The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.
― Alan Wilson Watts
Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.
― Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad / Roughing It
Twain certainly knew what he was talking about. Even back in his day. I could go on… there was an overwhelming change of scenery and beauty along the way. I have been unbelievably fortunate to have had the opportunity to get to see and enjoy this vast and amazing land…. before civilization sweeps away any more of it. I wouldn’t want to stick around much longer if we’re going to mow down every last tree and life form… to what purpose?
Needing Smiles for Lens-Artists Challenge #200
Lens-Artists Challenge #200: Things That Make Me Smile (click on it)
This challenge sent me scrolling through collections of shots from years past… in search of smiles. And did I ever find memories in those photos to bring on the smiles…. ☺️
There’s the photos of places we’ve been… those are, quite often, ones that bring on the smiles. The happy memories. One way or the other.
But no…. on to sweeter smiles….
Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears.
― John Lennon
A smile is the chosen vehicle of all ambiguities.
― Herman Melville, Pierre; or, The Ambiguities
tiny neighbors
A challenge to pay attention to the little things:
(click HERE to visit or join the challenge: Every Little Thing)
Many people lose the small joys in the hope for the big happiness.
― Pearl S. Buck
I am glad I will not be young in a future without wilderness.
― Aldo Leopold
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.
― Albert Einstein
Hope is not about proving anything. It’s about choosing to believe this one thing, that love is bigger than any grim, bleak shit anyone can throw at us.”
― Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith
Missing in action lately….
Where do the days and weeks slip by ?
Seems too much time has been taken up by things involving far too much poking and prodding… and waiting. Perhaps some things have been put off for too long. I’ve struggled to keep my head above water these days. We’ve had sunny days while others have brought some much needed rain… While so much seems to be springing into life around us (if You’ll forgive the pun!)
I was fascinated by these miniature little “birds’ nest” darlings. So I dug around in far too many photos taken during my walks to figure out where this random shot might have been taken. After some diligent searching, I recently came across what looked suspiciously like the dried out remains of those little birds nests…. (below)
Now that I know where to look, I’ll be watching to see if the Bird’s eggs reappear next winter… Life’s little mysteries? (“Crucibulum crucibuliforme” (in Dutch “gele nestzwam” that translates in “yellow nest mushroom” thanks to Picpholio.
…even that hint of rainbow peeking through the fog and slanted evening sun.
Then came the healing time, hearts started to shine, soul felt so fine, oh what a freeing time it was.
― Aberjhani, Songs from the Black Skylark zPed Music Player
No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see it through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sorrow that comes to us without warning.
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
Plotting the next attack on the roses…
We soldier on…. reaching for the light.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
― Anonymous, Holy Bible: New International Version
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