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.
One morning last week, as I was admiring the butterfly bushes,
this little fellow came hovering and humming before my face,
asserting his territoriality over the lush blossoms.
I wanted to reassure him: No, really, I was just looking.
First posted: August 19, 2020
Each day find something worthy of note,
and then note it:
something to ponder,
to wonder at, to love,
to be grateful you were here to experience,
to receive as a gift.
First posted: April 4, 2020
I notice again
as if for the first time
one season turning
toward the next
with everything
about to happen.
Tim Nolan
"Seasoned"
First posted: February 29, 2020
These tracks tell me:
You are not as alone
up here
as you think
you are.
First posted: February 13, 2020
Amid winter's glum monochromes
come moments of
glorious color.
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]
