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. 

October 3, 2014


















October 4, 2014



 Looks like food.

Smells like food.

Could be food.

Beyond gratitude...








November 8, 2014


Just when I was slumping into the gray and rainy drears of autumn

in the Pacific Northwest, bemoaning the lack of color,

this little fellow appeared at my study window,

cheerng me up immensely.





 Mid-September 2014

Driving home through a leaf blizzard;

Last mowing of this year, with a grasshopper escort;

Morning walk, crunching through brown, wrinkled leaves,

as squirrels watch from a high branch,

wanting to raise the issue of a certain bird feeder that needs refilling...

I feel the year winding down around me.





Robert Frost wrote: 

"...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!




October 5, 2014

Today I encountered a spider with an intricate, exquisite mandala on its back,
--like a Tibetan sand painting suspended in mid-air,
and serving much the same purpose:
to wonder at,
to meditate on,
to enter into
and merge with its beauty and mystery,
until everything in the world vanishes,

except Beauty and Mystery














June 27, 2014



On certain days,

at a certain time in the late afternoon,

the rhododendrons on this hillside begin to glow,



as if they'd been turned on at some central switch,

as if radiating some ethereal inner light.




June 24, 2014


 This bird feeder is squirrel-proof, the feed store owner told me, due to its ingenious design. Nowhere for the little critters to get a hold.

So I brought it home, filled it with seed, and hung it up.

It took my squirrels less than a day to figure out how to un-proof it.





Returning home in the evening to a near-empty feeder, I doubted that the birds could have eaten that much so soon.

As I watched, the culprit--looking decidedly more portly than the day before--showed up to finish off the last bit of seed.



I realize I could wire it so the feeder hangs lower and farther beyond their stretch, but for the moment it makes me kind of proud to think that I have squirrels with superior problem-solving abilities.