Pages

Sunday, 20 May 2018

What the dormouse said


Sunday morning, cool and blustery, everything soaked after last night's rain.

Everything soaked and wildly happy after last night's rain. It's insanely green out there. We can still see the island through the trees behind us but just barely, and the silvery-white, unfurling leaves of the poplars - oh, those beautiful poplars! - are filling the air with that spicy fragrance that I just can't get enough of .. there's a top note, just a hint, of blossom to the breeze, plum and chokecherry and hawthorn blossom out in the forest and plum and pear and the beginnings of apple blossom from the garden.

Then there's the music.

Thursday, 10 May 2018

The state of the world





Over the last few days, Paul (my wonderful Paul) has been easily coaxed into taking us for drives here and there. The goal? To watch the greening of our world. To look for the tiny yellow nodding flowers we call trout lilies, to check on the progress of the trilliums (white, sometimes deep red), that colour the carpet of the forest floor.

Monday, 7 May 2018

Polite society, the Divine feminine - and blood.


"She changes everything She touches, and everything She touches changes,
  We are changers and everything we touch is changed."

So goes the little ditty I'm humming this morning after someone asked me in an email about the feminine aspect of the Divine. It's a tune from back in the heady days of the 80's and some of the 90's, during the (momentary) resurgence of the Mother Goddess.

There are those who would take me to task for calling it a momentary resurgence. But how you see it depends on your definition of Mother. And Goddess. And feminine. And the Divine.

Saturday, 5 May 2018

The war on the senses (part 3 of my "polite society" tirade, I guess)



"What is that fucking NOISE??" I muttered to myself and went out to look.

A leaf blower. Gas powered, sending out clouds of choking, yucky exhaust, and for what? The maple trees have flowered, there was a big wind last night and the neighbour's driveway is covered in pink things. A gravel driveway, I might add, so it's not like they'll do any harm and you can imagine the dust he's kicking up at the same time. Lord have mercy.

You know what I did with maple flowers this morning?

Thursday, 3 May 2018

The other trinity (outside the boundaries, part 2)


Raindrops cling differently to apple trees than they do to pear trees.

On apple trees, they hang on the tips of twigs and branches, teardrop shaped and poised to fall.

On pear trees, they rest more easily, rows of them, perfect rounded pearls, lined up on the underside of branches, seeming to defy gravity and the laws of surface tension.

Outside the boundaries of polite society - part one


Between the maniacal laugh of the pileated woodpecker in the big maple and the cranes whooping it up in the marshes below, I feel like I'm living in the jungle here!

All night long the multitudes sang their love songs: peeper frogs peeped in their thousands, bull frogs crooned and the geese murmured sweet nothings. Fog lay in the low places and a misty rain settled the dusty soil over the seeds of the turnips and beets I planted. I slept deeply. I dreamed wordlessly, finally.

Tuesday, 10 April 2018

Hold your head up


During the winter, and still during this interminable grey cold spring, when I can't fall asleep at night I take an imaginary tour through the garden on an imaginary summer's day. It works; I generally fall asleep somewhere just past the rhubarb bed.

Yesterday - oh glory! - I actually got out there for a real look-see.