Foxglove Moments

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. 

 

 

Amid winter's glum monochrome 
come moments of color.

And delight!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First posted: January 16, 2020

 

 

 

At day's end

a certain slant of light

turns the world

magical

and mysterious.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First posted: December 26, 2019

 

 

 

I come into the peace of wild things,

I come into the presence of still water,

I rest in the grace of the world,

and am free.

                         Wendell Berry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: November 3, 2019]


We have this understanding, the deer and I.

When I first bring plants home from the nursery,

I leave them out overnight.

If they are still there in the morning, I plant them.

If they aren't, I don't

 

 

[First posted: August 10, 2019]

 

 
I dine alone this evening,
sitting out on the hillside
enjoying a still summer night.
Suspiciously still.
Where is everyone?
No squirrels? No chipmunks?
(The feeders are full.)
No jays, no junkos,
no chickadees, robins or wrens?
Not even flies?

Was there a memo I didn't receive?

 

 

[First posted: July 11, 2019]

 
We all have to face it: Some things are not meant to be.

 

 

 

[First published: June 2, 2019]

 



The chipmunks and I are developing a very special relationship.

I think of them as my little woodland friends.

They think of me as a primary food source.

We're very close.

 

 

 

[First posted: September 30, 2018]

 


Storm surge.

Light layered between darkness.

Sunset seems steeped in significance...
Or maybe just one of those days
when anything can be a metaphor for something else.


I really need to stop fretting about the next four years.

 

 

 

 

 [First posted: November, 2016]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

    Some days the sun doesn't simply set.
    It takes the world with it,
    and this valley becomes
    a shimmering chameleon
    of changing color and mood rhythms,
    a creature of the night
    slowly waking,
    mysterious, lurking,
    freed at last by the departing light.

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: March 31, 2016]

 

 


They are collecting pieces of people at a Belgian airport.

A child is tortured to punish his father.

God has been appropriated for a dubious political campaign,

and a thuggish clown wins another presidential primary.

At times the world seems too much with us,
almost too much to bear.

 

 

 

Yet this day also offers blossom antidotes,
beautiful, brief,
a momentary relief,
but it is enough, it is enough,
before the world comes rushing back in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: March 24, 2016]