Foxglove Moments

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.

The Buddha in Autumn

 

 

 He remains serene
whatever the season.

In Tales of Tokyo, Jason goes walking alone at dusk along
the coast of Matsushima. Overwhelmed and weighted down by the woes of the world and by the pain, misery and loneliness that seem our human inheritance, he comes upon a stone Buddha:

"Imperturbable and serene in heat and cold, the Buddha sat there with that secretive smile, like one who knows but isn't telling; and Jason wondered,
can one really live in this world and know such peace, such calm, be so undisturbed by life's disappointments and sorrows,
so untroubled by its desires and temptations, without being made of stone?"

When I walk this hillside and come upon a buddha, I wonder this still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: November 21, 2015]

 

Hummingbird gripes overheard at the window

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Man, this rain sucks. We shoulda went south with the Reds for winter."

"Aah, they're a bunch of wusses. Besides you hate flying."

"I don't like the cold and the rain together. Separately, I can take them, but not together."

"Get over it already, will ya? It's not even winter yet."

"Is it just me or is he watering down the drinks again?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: November 15, 2015]

 

 

 

 

Autumn's Passage

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




Watching autumn do its thing,
slowly overtaking summer,
day by day, leaf by leaf,
blossoms dying without grief.
It's just what they do,
And they seem to know it.

I wonder at how effortlessly,
how perfectly the seasons pass.
No grandstanding, no defiant show,
they just...let...go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: November 10, 2015]

 

 

 

 

 

Happily (now) watching the leaves happily fall where they may

 


Every year around this time, approximately four billion maple leaves fall in my yard, half of them managing to land in my pond, each the size of an elephant ear--a large elephant.

And each spring I must clean my pond, removing a foot of decomposed leaf sludge from the bottom.

 

 

 

So this year I decided to get a pond screen. The pond shop didn't carry them, but the helpful store assistant suggested I make one myself. "They're easy to make," he said.

Easy to make. He was probably thinking of someone mechanically inclined like my father or my nephew Ryan; he probably wasn't thinking of someone like me who isn't always sure which end of a hammer to use.

 

 

 So I took his advice and asked Ryan to design and construct a pond cover, netting on top so the pond can "breathe," plastic on the sides so the leaves can slide off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm pleased with the result. My pond is now protected from the annual leaf assault. Once the leaves are all down for this year, we'll dismantle and store the cover until next fall.

 

 

 

 

 

For now, I happily sit back and watch the large maple leaves happily fall where they may.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: November 5, 2015]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Day Signing Off

 

 


Fitting end to a well-lived day:

writing stories in the morning,

raking leaves in the afternoon

occasionally stopping to scribble down ideas

raked up with the leaves

when suddenly I note the light has gone.

In a graying sky one bright cloud

shines like a beacon:

"This day signing off."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: November 3, 2015]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn Framed

 


I praise the fall it is the human season now

No more the foreign sun does meddle at our earth

Enforce the green and thaw the frozen soil to birth

Nor winter yet weigh all with silence the pine bough.



Archibald MacLeish

"Immortal Autumn"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: November 1, 2015]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn Afternoon Flyby

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Working out on my hillside

putting away wood for the winter

when he comes circling overhead,

checking me out,

Circling...circling...circling,

Majestic, unhurried,

observant without being intrusive.

Eagle surveillance,

Preferable any day to the NSA.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: October 24, 2015]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Definitely Autumn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


The valley takes on a different character with each season.

Spring throbs to its new-life beat;
summer simmers and shimmers in the heat;
winter everywhere slows;
but autumn...autumn glows.


Autumn is my season.

 

 

 

 

[First posted: October 5, 2015]

 

 

 

 

On the clear crisp cusp of Autumn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Yesterday, Kris emailed: Are the leaves changing on your hillside?

I looked out my window.

No, they aren't, I said. 

Today I emailed her: Yes, they are. All of them!

What a difference a day makes.

 

 

 

 

[First posted: September 15, 2015]

How hot?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With temperatures in the high 90s this past week, it was clearly too hot
for the squirrels to do much scampering about.

Listless, lethargic, flattened by the heat, they appeared to melt on the trees.

Fur coats, no matter how fashionable, are not really high summer wear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: July 20, 2015]

 

  1. Amidst the prosaic
  2. Hovercraft
  3. Peanuts and poetry
  4. Hillside at First Light
  5. Rhododendron Road
  6. The first thing you see
  7. All the thyme in the world
  8. Pests
  9. Now that's a first
  10. Season of Bursting Blossoms

Page 3 of 15

Subscribe to newsletter