mesmerized by bird netting

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

- Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

She sat
Mesmerized by bird netting
Dropped over the garden and fruit trees
It glistened in the sun and moved gracefully in the breeze
So did the leaves on the pear tree
Morning gentleness as birds made known the day
Along with the quaking sound of Aspen

Her coffee cup empty
With a stained ring and splash down the side
Notebook and pen left untouched
She stood to tend pots of pink geraniums
A train horn sounded from somewhere
The neighbor's dog barked
Her brown dog lay quietly by the purple table

Brushing hair out of her face
Worn hands on her hips, she took stock of her ward and smiled

Morning is my time for prayer, meditation and basically waking myself up to the day. I like it quiet and undisturbed. No voices. No talking. No answering. Simply quiet and undisturbed.

In the summer, I find one of our Adirondack chairs to be the perfect spot. They sit away from the house against our block wall. The sun shines bright and warm. The gentle Mourning Doves sit on the wall and coo their soulful songs. I find peace for my day, for my life in these times of contemplation.

Missy

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Comments

wishing flower, vulnerable and beautiful

do you see a weed or a wish? Let’s just say, I’m not an early morning girl. Those who know me appreciate this and quietly leave me alone until I’ve had a chance to emerge from my pre-coffee zombie state. However, there is a bird glee club that begins at about 3:30, yes in the morning. It’s lovely and melodic; leaving me no choice but to listen. Translated, this means I’ve been up before my norm. The youthful hours are warm, but fresh; they beg for a walk, and so does Isabella. Yesterday was a little cooler so our pace was speedy, at least for my little legs. We passed cars and bushes and bugs zipping around … and the rejected weed. pulled up by its roots discarded wishing flower tossed aside left at the edge of the sidewalk the sun beat down life ebbing from the slender stalk, leaves drying, privately curling desperate to hold onto being funny , how I noticed the thrown-away on a morning walk my thought to stop and ...

urban girl in the country

green in concrete For the last lot-of-years I’ve lived in urban areas. I’ve become a city girl with hints of a flower child mixed with hipster nuances…translated I like to wear skinny jeans. This is the total opposite of how I grew up, which was on a farm. My paternal grandparents grew, raised, caught and hunted for everything they ate – radical organic, free-range stuff. On my Mom’s side of the fam tree, there were green grocers and orchard growers. Heck, I was in 4-H raising feeder calves and a small flock of wooly sheep. Gardens, canning, freezing and preserving everything was the ordinary. I carried on the gardening-preserving, saving the spoils piece, until I found myself in fresh veggie-at-a-farmer’s-market heaven! The foreign city I found myself in had a temperate climate where fruit and vegetables could be grown year ‘round, and … it was sold at a giant open air market every week. Yippee! I no longer needed to ...

road tripping: french glen and steens mountain

we took a stinkin' lot of dirt roads, but i wouldn't have it any other way The drive wasn’t long by west coast standards, a mere few of hours; which meant there was plenty of leisure (interpreted coffee time) before leaving on another road trip escapade. I can’t begin to tell you how much fun it is to pack a bag, gas up the car and set out to see what can be seen. An interesting thing I’ve discovered on these exploits, is that having lived in Oregon for the majority of my life, I’ve missed “seeing” a lot of things. You know, I think we all get into the habit of going to the same places, which is a good thing, but we forget about the “other” places that are right in our own backyards. Case in point, yesterday afternoon, when my darling man and I went to Tumalo Falls. I’ve been to Skyliner Snow Park, but never gone the few more dirt road miles to see the falls. Holy cow! Is that lame, or what? a sweet little place, no frills, but plenty of yesteryear ...

Isabella Bird Miscellany

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