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. 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer's slow daily slide into autumn,

Reminding us of the ephemeral nature of what was,

Heralding the uncertainty of what will be,

Manifesting the beauty of what is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[First posted: September 22, 2014]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes you have to stretch yourself to get what you want,
if you really want it.


I've noticed there are no dithering Hamlets among chipmunks.

 

 

 

 [First posted: September 24, 2014]

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries...

                                                   Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

 

 

 

 [First posted: September 28, 2014]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Small spinners of exquisite art.

Up here on this hill,

I am surrounded by such art.

Too wondrous!

 

 

 

[First posted: October 3, 2014]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 Looks like food.


Smells like food.


Could be food.

 

 

 

 

[First posted: October 4, 2014]

 


Beyond gratitude...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Just when I was slumping into the gray and rainy drears

of a Pacific Northwest autumn,

bemoaning the lack of color,

this little fellow appeared at my study window,

cheering me up immensely.

 

 

 

[First posted: November 8, 2014]

 

 

 

I feel the year winding down around me.

Driving home through leaf blizzards;

last mowing for this year,

with a grasshopper escort no less;

morning walks, crunching through brown, wrinkled leaves;

squirrels watch from a high branch,

wishing to raise the issue of a certain bird feeder in need of refilling...

 

 

 

 

[First posted: October  2014]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wrote Robert Frost: 

"Leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay."

 

Autumn reminds us:
Nothing can stay.

 

 

Fewer and fewer come by now
each day.


I see them packing their bags,
Listen to them making their plans,
complaining about the long flight south (Flying is such a hassle.)


I'm missing them already.


Bye, Rufus!