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. 

 

 

 

Aggressive little fellows!
They zip, dart and dive, engage in aerial dogfights outside my study window, or hover in mid-air, tail feathers flaring, glaring at each other in some hummingbird version of Stand Your Ground.

C'mon, guys, there's enough nectar for everyone. Can't we just love each other and get along?

 

 

 

 

[First posted: July 27, 2013]

 

 

 

I rejoice at the return of the Monarchs.

Let beauty reign!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: July 23, 2013]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The local gang of raccoons and I have this understanding:

If I don't put fish in my pond, they won't eat them.

It works.

 

 

 

 [First posted: July 19, 2013]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just grateful to witness it...

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: July 17, 2013]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For months I've been pondering the mystery: Who was stealing the suet cakes I put out for the birds?

Raccoons are the usual suspects, but this morning I received incontrovertible proof!

 

 

 

[First posted: July 14, 2013]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Over the years I have seen many fawns up here,
but never one so tiny!
The size of a small dog,
he's obviously new to the world, hanging close to his mother, nuzzling in to whatever she's eating at the moment, constantly under foot. Curiosity on four legs.

A little grace note to life on this hillside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: July 8, 2013]

 

 






 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 






The last act of the rhododendrons,
reminders of life's beauty and its brevity. 
And, too, of renewal and eternal recurrence.


See you next year!

 

 

 

 

[First posted: July 7, 2013]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every once in a while
the mystical breaks through,
momentarily illuminating the mundane,
and in that moment we see
what has always been there.

 

 

 

 

 [First posted: July 3, 2013]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the last years of his life, my father and I spent many hours together
working on this hillside. When he died, the mountain irises were out in abundance,
arrayed in all their lavender glory.

Now, every year as we edge toward summer, they appear in their simple and unpretentious elegance,
a fitting memorial to a gentle and unpretentious man.

Much better than a gravestone, I think;
this hillside, more beautiful than any cemetery.

 

 

 

[First posted: June 30, 2014]