Looking Up

The Blessings of An Horizon

2012-01-27T13:05:00.014-05:00

As I age, beauty unexpectedly distills out of moments where I'd not expected transcendence;

a walk to the curb to gather the newspaper before the sun is up, or in the middle of a phone conversation with a kid-sister.

It's one of the blessings of acknowledging that life's sunset horizon is drawing closer. The setting sun generally throws more color than the young one at the beginning of day.

Voices

My sister's voice
on a silver thread of wire
and air
hovers around me
and is transformed.
And the gray outside my house,
the chairs and tv
are gone and time is gone.
Her words are indiscernible,
the words that cross the plains
from her car as she waits for children
in a distant time zone beneath a snowy peak.

So dear a connection
requires this momentary madness
where a heart is so amazed
and filled with gratitude
for the mysteries that bring love on wires and air,
that the words lose their meaning
and pierce the gray as music.

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Sanibel Birds

2012-01-10T13:46:00.009-05:00

Great Egret and Sanibel Lighthouse

Snowy Egret at Sunset

Strutting Great Egret

Fish Crows

Fish Crows lunching on Palmetto berries

Stair-stepping Brown Pelicans

Immature Yellow-Crowned Night Heron

Fishing Buddies (Great White Egret)

2012-01-04T15:53:00.006-05:00

Marianne at Northveiw Diary introduced me to this bit of whimsy. We are to take the first sentence of the first post of each of the past 12 months and line 'em up thusly. It's a hoot. And just maybe I do have too much time on my hands :)

Some say the world will end in fire.
Not playful, nor baleful . . .
I found this gem in the most unlikely place
No lights in the neighbors' windows yet.
One couldn't help but to see the beauty despite the damage
I wonder if the little bee,
It's been a long ten years
When her doctor took her bandages off and led her into the garden, the girl who was no longer blind saw “the tree with the lights in it."
Deep summer
The tarp on the garden moves like a stranded sea creature.
Too much time on my hands .

Fairy-loving Birds

2011-10-20T19:52:00.006-05:00

Too much time on my hands :)

Tricks the Autumn Wind Plays

2011-10-18T09:46:00.008-05:00

Tricks The Autumn Wind Plays

The tarp on the garden moves like a stranded sea creature.

It warps and bulges in the wind.

Its rock-tethered arms tremble to be free.

The wind teases it with freedom,

with memories of distant depths,

or perhaps the dream of flight

having tasted air.

Catherine Wilson

Deep Summer

2011-08-20T00:01:00.013-05:00

"Seeing"

2011-07-25T11:26:00.004-05:00

From Annie Dillard's "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek":

When her doctor took her bandages off and led her into the garden, the girl who was no longer blind saw “the tree with the lights in it.”

It was for this tree I searched through the peach orchards of summer, in the forests of fall and down winter and spring for years. Then one day I was walking along Tinker Creek thinking of nothing at all and I saw the tree with the lights in it.

I saw the backyard cedar where the mourning doves roost charged and transfigured, each cell buzzing with flame. I stood on the grass with the lights in it, grass that was wholly fire, utterly focused and utterly dreamed. It was less like seeing than like being for the first time seen, knocked breathless by a powerful glance.

The flood of fire abated, but I’m still spending the power. Gradually the lights went out in the cedar, the colors died, the cells unflamed and disappeared. I was still ringing. I had been my whole life a bell, and never knew it until at that moment I was lifted and struck.

I have since only very rarely seen the tree with the lights in it. The vision comes and goes, mostly goes, but I live for it, for the moment when the mountains open and a new light roars in spate through the crack, and the mountains slam.

--Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

Memorial Day 2011

2011-05-30T16:25:00.001-05:00

Between the Storms

2011-05-26T20:58:00.009-05:00

What I saw on my computer screen.

What it looked like from my front stoop.

I've only cowered in the basement once, so far. Nothing materialized except some water seeping under the basement wall. It rainith. A lot. we have managed to duck out between the storms. Everything is green, moist, singing, blooming . . . in such a rush.

Nooooo! Not the Daffodils!

2011-05-11T17:13:00.000-05:00

Who'd a thunk it?

P.S. After 2 weeks it's good to be outside. One nasty virus. Felled us both. Whew.

God Bless America

2011-05-02T08:16:00.007-05:00

It's been a long ten years. So much is owed to the brave men who killed the man responsible for the 9/11 strikes on America.

"U.S. forces were led to the fortress-like three-story building after more than four years tracking one of bin Laden's most trusted couriers, whom U.S. officials said was identified by men captured after the September 11, 2001 attacks."

That man who identified the courier was water-boarded at Gitmo.
Update: There is disagreement about where this person was interrogated. It may have been in an over-seas facility. None of this is pretty. But neither were the deaths of 3 thousand innocent Americans.

These Things I know

2011-04-08T08:23:00.002-05:00

My dear friend, Anne, was cleaning bookshelves and came across this poem. She shared it with me. I love it.

These Things I Know:

I have planted a garden,
so I know what faith is.

I have seen birch trees
swaying in the breeze, so
I know what grace is.

I have seen a morning without
clouds, after showers,
so I know what beauty is.

I have read a book beside
a wood fire,
so I know what contentment is.

I have seen the miracle of
the sunset, so I know what
grandeur is.

And because I have perceived
all these things, I know
what wealth is.

- Capper's Weekly - unattributed

I know you could add your own list of 'wealth-making' experiences.

Done With Ice

2011-04-05T18:58:00.005-05:00

(you might have to click to read)

Couldn't stand looking at that ice in my previous post. We're nowhere near magnolia blooms, yet - but - hope SPRINGs eternal ;-)

Ice Would Suffice . . .

2011-03-04T16:16:00.009-05:00

One couldn't help but to see the beauty despite the damage.

Yes, that's the electric meter.

Yes, that's the power line under that huge hunk of tree. Luckily it's not alive.
(The power line, that is.)

Oh yes. We've had enough ice to suffice for a very, very long time ;-D

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The Eating Season

2011-02-24T09:22:00.005-05:00

The Eating Season

Pack it away,
theres’ snow on the way.
The squirrels are so busy,
they’re all in a tizzy
to stash nuts for the day
we’ve been holding at bay
that now will arrive
while our need to survive
sends us out to the kitchen
with that tooth that’s been itch’n
for pastry and butter,
synthetic and other,
to stuff in our face
en route to our waist
in commensurate measure
to the squirrels’ buried treasure.

Cathy Wilson

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Waiting For the Sun

2011-02-19T09:22:00.022-05:00

Bringing the Sun Up

No lights in the neighbors' windows yet.
Venus, my February companion,
floats above Ed’s roof.
The planet is so bright with reflected light
that the cold on my cheeks
feels like heat.

That’s why I stand here.
On a quiet street, waiting.
For the planet's fading into dawn.
For the cardinal's silhouette at the feeder,
For Ed, in his red flannels, collecting the paper.
For the heart’s cares melting,
like Venus,
into morning.

Catherine Wilson

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What is it?

2011-02-17T20:01:00.012-05:00

MARCH 9 UPDATE BELOW!

I found this gem in the most unlikely place. Can you guess where?

This graceful little nest hangs just above the ground beside a path in the local woods.

(click for larger image)
It was perhaps a foot off the ground and was pendulous like an oriole nest. It was approximately 5 inches long and at the widest part, maybe 3 inches. Any ideas as to who built it?

March 9 UPDATE:
NEAT! Tom from Ask a Naturalist.com has solved the mystery! He consulted two experts and the consensus is red-winged black bird. An oriole nest is also a possibility. Thank you Tom!

EARLIER UPDATE:
My friend, Jonna, suggested perhaps, that the nest belongs to a Red-eyed Vireo! This from a site called Familiar Birds of America:
"Nesting.--The red-eyed vireo builds a dainty little pensile nest suspended usually from a forking, horizontal branch of a shrub, or low branch of a tree, rather below the level of our eyes as we walk through second-growth. The nest is a beautifully finished piece of workmanship, constructed of fine grasses and rootlets, bits of birch bark, and paper from wasps' nests, bound together and to the supporting branches with spider's or caterpillar's webbing, and, perhaps the most constant material, long, narrow, flexible strands of grapevine bark, which help to hold up the cup of the nest. It may be ornamented on the outside with bits of lichen. Dr. Arthur A. Allen (1932) says that it has thinner walls usually than other vireo's nests."

I Heard a Bird Sing . . .

2011-02-08T20:57:00.007-05:00

click . . please

I Heard a Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember:
"We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,"
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.

Oliver Herford

2011-02-04T10:49:00.009-05:00

Winter Leaves

Not playful, nor baleful . . .
only searching frosted ground.
Brailing forward, pausing softly,
briefly shifting, moving toward . .

destinations far from treetops
destinations far from home,
resting finally among the others
whose traveling days are done.

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January Ice.

2011-01-22T10:55:00.018-05:00

Fire and Ice - by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

January Cat

4 degrees tonight.
I watched you cross the snow.

Wary.

I’ve purposely made you wary of me.
Killer of birds.

The birds I feed at well-stocked feeders.

Earlier this year, in the softer seasons,
your eyes followed me from the field, the driveway,
from beside the shrine to my dead aunt
at the edge of the woods.

Now my eyes follow you, belly-deep in snow.

I see your paw prints disappearing beneath the porch
where I imagine you spend these long winter nights
curled among last summer's leaves.

Please find the chicken pieces I dropped beneath the swing.
And dream a dream of birds
and a full-bellied spring.

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Making Merry Memories

2010-12-28T10:59:00.008-05:00

Even Jacob Marley can be coaxed to grin during the Christmas season.

Smiles can be found perched on an antique milk can.

It's not impossible to create merriment to brighten these days of icicles and a lesser sun.

Of course, merry memories begin with family and friends.

Hope your Christmas was merry and all good wishes for a Happy New Year!

Time To Find a Puddle of Sunshine

2010-12-07T20:12:00.004-05:00

I love this turkey photo. Took it through a closed window. Captures this time of year.

It was dang cold in Ohio today. Even the chickadees are looking for a puddle of sunshine.

Wistful November. The Bare Bones of Life

2010-11-12T10:34:00.009-05:00

Autumn Sunrise

Iron and Lace

Dad (far right) in whose honor I am donating monthly to The Wounded Warrior Project.

October Impression . . .

2010-10-05T06:16:00.009-05:00

It's that sleepy time of year. Hudson dreaming of August chipmunk chases.

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By demand . . .

2010-09-07T20:15:00.004-05:00

My hubby has insisted that I post a picture to replace my previous post.

Like Queen Elizabeth in the movie Shakespeare in Love - he's requested something 'lighter'.

I think this picture suffices.

Lighter than air.

Sweet Katie on Grandma and Grandpa's swing.

Is it just me . .?

2010-08-28T12:30:00.010-05:00

. . . or has something happened - something seriously troubling - to the culture?

Gentle reader. The question is really rhetorical. Your experience of the current culture is warmly welcomed. But having been absent from your blogs, I've developed a well-earned sense of unworthiness that requires that any silliness or occasional seriousness that floats to the surface here . . . anticipates only that it records one aging woman's momentary musings. Don't feel compelled to comment.

I know that we can agree that it's an interesting, crazy, confusing world.

Recently someone advised that one must hope to age 'gracefully'. I considered this advice. My response. Good luck with that.

Given the human condition it occurs to me that only a well-exercised sense of humor is of real value in facing the rigors of decline.

Humor, and of course, the happy associations of good friends and family.

The gal pictured above and a group of similarly clad women whose license plate you see - were all recorded during one morning. They were miles apart.

Humor, my friends. If you don't laugh you may find yourself crying.

It's been a good summer :0)

2010-07-24T17:32:00.007-05:00

To any lost soul that wanders in here by accident or out of nostalgia for what once was, hello dear fellow-traveler.

Time is flying. Perhaps it's my aging brain. Perhaps the flood of this world's events and their coverage.

But time does fly.

On the occasion pictured above, time stopped. It's been a dream of mine. To feel the little life vibrations of a chickadee. To feel little bird tremors on my head, to see little bird toes grasping the brim of my hat.

I hope a dream or two of yours has been realized this summer. There's still time, though its pace has accelerated. All the more reason to keep looking up, out and around, for after all . . .

it's a beautiful world.

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A Mossy Mouthful

2010-05-23T14:05:00.004-05:00

Sometimes a picture deserves its very own post. While trying to photograph a blue jay through my back porch window I saw this little fella scratching around in the fern bed just outside. I didn't realize that a titmouse feathered its bed with moss. Pretty sweet.

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Curiosity

2010-05-14T18:18:00.011-05:00

Can't quite explain why I found this vignette so touching. The swan is a year old this spring. He's starting to spend less time around his watchful parents - an adolescent thing.

But I never expected this in a swan. I watched him circling beneath a tree. My binoculars revealed the cause. A Kingfisher sat in the branches above him. The young swan was curious. Imagine that. In this new heart under those white feathers. Wonder. About his world.

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Hey! Get outta there!

2010-05-06T13:34:00.011-05:00

So I'm trying to back out of the driveway using my Honda's video screen. (It really is a help if you've got neck issues.) Bird migration is underway and I'm headed for the edge of Lake Erie early in the morning.

I put the car in reverse and glance at the camera image being transmitted from my rear bumper.

Yikes!!! There's some kid standing splayed-leg on the sidewalk behind me with his arms thrust out as if to impede my motion.

I can't believe my eyes! I throw the car in park and step out. No kid. OK. I'm losing it. Back in the car. The kid rematerializes. Sweet Mary.

Long story short. The image I see in the screen and the image I get outside the car are different because the camera is not dead-center on the car, but off to the side. (or something!)

For some reason that tree shadow morphs into a bratty kid for the camera. A cartoon kid, but geeze - he even throws a shadow. I know, any reasonable person can see it ain't human, but still - it's a little creepy don't you agree?

Lucky, lucky, lucky . . .

2010-04-30T21:24:00.013-05:00

(morel mushrooms/heaven-on-earth)

Interrupted Fern

Sprouting Grass Moon(aka Full Pink Moon)

. . .Lucky to be gathering spring delights with all our senses.

The experience of long winter nights makes it all the lovelier.

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Just Gold and Flickers . .

2010-04-25T11:29:00.008-05:00

Let's take a closer look . .

She's sweet . .(no mustache)

And now for some Flicker gold . . . (don't often get a shot like this!)

Gold!

You know, but just in case: Yellow-shafted Flicker

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Toad Soup

2010-04-22T10:35:00.000-05:00

The American toad is celebrating spring in the pond at TBC. Busy trying to capture toad anatomy, I almost missed the picture of another spring phenomenon - a youngster's curiosity. I later learned this young man's name - Ivan. I suppose the toad was afraid he might get 'terrible' treatment, but they parted company as friends. Ivan clambored back into spring exploration and the toad hopped back into a soup of trilling DNA.

April 2006 Who? Me?! (Four Years Later)

2010-04-13T18:50:00.014-05:00

Here's what I posted four years ago this month:

I almost deleted the message on the answering machine as I didn't recognize the caller's name at the beginning of the call. Incredulity followed as someone from the Heritage House Museum in Key West, Florida informed me that my poem, "Pruning", was being awarded 3rd prize in the 2006 Robert Frost Poetry Contest. Please indulge my public exaltation. For this small-town kid, one of seven children and a lackluster student - this is a rather big day.

And so . .

. . here we are four years later and I'd like to report (but can't) that I've written more award winning poetry and the great American novel.

I'm afraid I'm quite content to rest on my laurels (given no choice ;0) .

So for the next several days I'll be preening contentedly - remembering that brief moment of exhilaration and trying not to remember my way-too-vainglorious response. Only human, folks. Flawed and human - the awareness of which - inspired this (ahem) award-winning poem:

Pruning

Pruning is such a delicate matter
as we choose what must relinquish the right
to remain aloft and cling to the ladder
of the arbor where the squabbling jays natter
about their perches for the night.

It’s the space you cleave between the branch
and the trellised bark - you know will bleed.
You watch your questioning knuckles blanch
with the hope you’ve measured beyond mere chance
as required by the gardener’s creed
in the dog-eared books which try to say
about the choices a man must make
as to what must go and what may stay,
to love the light for another day.

The pruner knows his hands’ mistake
will leave the roots beneath his job
making their peace with the fool in the air,
judging his work while his temples throb,
as he stifles regret, with a tight-throated sob,
over the error for the things in his care.

Catherine Wilson 2006

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You Turkeys . . .

2010-04-11T22:05:00.010-05:00

. . . are so cute!

We've never seen this before. Or heard it so close to home. The male turkey is smitten and follows her everywhere with his worrisome pleading. Gobblegobblegobble on and on - into the night as he follows her across hill and dale and across our porch.

These are wild. Apparently a hybrid between domestic and wild turkey. They're a hoot. Or should I say - a gobble.

My video of Courting Turkeys:

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EEEK!! (OR) . . . .

2010-04-08T14:03:00.003-05:00

. .things that showed up on my external hard drive after my computer crashed.

I now use Carbonite, but I have thanked my hubby and son a gazzillion times for instructing me on backing up my files.

I feared I'd lost this dear little bold jumping spider. He's baaaaacck ;-)

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Drifting . . .

2010-04-05T10:20:00.008-05:00

Ahhhh . . . much better now. It's good to drift away from those rather dark reflections in "Orphaned Blog."

Ahhhhh . . . this is much better.

Hope you're all drifting along smoothly with the spring intoxication.

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Spring Air

2010-04-05T10:13:00.004-05:00

Took this yesterday. It's the same tree as I used for my poem years ago.

I still love this little ditty. No profundity here . . just plain unbridled delight.

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Orphaned Blog. The Comment I Didn't Leave

2010-04-03T23:22:00.062-05:00

Update II: Tammy is alive. She left a comment on Pam's blog. I know her heart is breaking. She had traveled to be with Pam a couple years ago. They referred to themselves as Batman and Robin.

UPDATE I
I am shaken. My fellow blogger Anvil Cloud left a note to check on Pam's blog. It seems she died mere hours after I posted this piece late on the evening of April 3rd. That evening I had felt compelled to express a feeling that her blog had been orphaned. So after more than a year . ..

This is what I found tonight:

Tuesday, April 06, 2010
In Loving Memory
Pam Antonivich
8/10/1942- 4/4/2010
"I have ALS, it does not have me
Art does."
-Pam 2009-
She was a very brave woman
Who will be greatly missed
And was loved by many

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Here is the post I wrote as Pam was very near death:
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Gentle reader. Your life is in throttle-up mode today as spring is pumping energy and life into your routine. This post is an autumn plaint, not a vernal paean to love, but I wonder if you will find it relevant to your involvement in this community we create in cyberspace.
Last night I almost left this comment in Pam's blog, "Mind Trips." Almost. I'm certain she is dead. Almost certain. And it is that uncertainty which I address below:

The following is the comment I didn't leave. What if somehow Pam still accesses her blog and found my dark ponderings. Unthinkable. So this is a comment that will never be posted.
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Perhaps this isn't the place for expressing the thoughts that I'm having this evening, but it's been more than a year since we've heard from Pam and six months since her friend Tammy has posted. Both suffered from ALS, Lou Gehrig's Disease, and knowing what I know from a family experience with ALS, my sad conclusion is that they are gone.

We are enlarged by the exchanges with others we've met through blogging. We lean over one another's cyber shoulder and give encouragement and praise and share our wonder and amusement about the journey through this challenging life and fascinating universe.

We celebrate, laugh, strut, worry and rant. We share a little of our unique corner of the world with people whose welcoming porches become as familiar and comfortable as a neighbor's, maybe more so given the anonymity of some communities today.

So perhaps someone will come up with a phrase or word to describe the feeling of returning to a blog like Pam's - her strong personality, her courage, her talent, her portraits of her family, the stories about her friends and baby kitten - as fresh as the day she hit the word 'publish' for the last time - and find her missing.

What words to describe the feeling that we've entered a home where everything is in order, but eerily vacant? The lights still glow, the pictures smile from the walls, the coffee pot is warm, but the owner has left. No note is on the counter, the door is still ajar, the birds come to the feeders, but no one is home.

So we return occasionally to peer in the windows for signs of life. We turn away, but pause to slip a note under the door mat with a scribbled hug and our email address, hoping a house-sitter will find it and allay our worry or confirm our suspicions.

The pixels shine as brightly. Pam's slideshow spins in the sidebar. One of my photos is captured there in the amazing art she created on her computer.

Tammy's picture shines from the comment queue above the keyboard where I drop these words into a blank space. I'm aware of her eyes as I scatter letters across the screen. It's as though she is watching.

The sad fact of this unaddressed flaw of the internet community is revealed in instances like Pam's, where we are left with no closure - only the pitiable, haunting flicker of her orphaned blog.

There are no customs to manage this grief. No one to address our consternation as to why the family has not put a mourning wreath on the door, left instructions as to where sympathy notes might be sent or merely typed one line stating the date of her passing.

I have a friend whose mother died three years ago. Recently she told me that she's left her clothes hanging in the closet just as her mother left them in the vacant little house outside of town.

Too painful to face. Too painful to empty the closet and walk away, or in Pam's family's case, too painful to enter this blog house where Pam still smiles amid her hopes and dreams.

Is it our business? Do we have a right to bristle with frustration at the void, at the unanswered questions? My answer is yes.

Because, finally, we did care. Through this imperfect medium, in this imperfect world, we reached across the physical boundaries of our short lives and hers and created a neighborhood of the heart.
She was one of us.

She was our friend with ALS, the disease that I never told her took my father in nine short months. We cheered her on as her life was extended with drugs, therapy, and loving care-takers, though we knew as surely as she did, that her courage could only sustain her warrior's heart a while longer.

With her unacknowledged passing, one of the homes on the block has been abandoned. The lights come on at night. The dog still sits by door. But no one's home.

The weeds will never grow here. The paint will never chip.

And there is the heavy irony in the title of Pam's last post:

"Still Standing."

What new turn of phrase can address this new phenomenon of the orphaned blog?

Perhaps the question is the answer.

On this spring day, I'm giving my family instructions as to how to manage my "Looking Up" when I die or become unable to care for my little house on the cyber neighborhood block.

Better yet, like a pre-planned funeral, perhaps we should write our own sign-off that some survivor could merely find in the draft drawer and put it out there, beneath the welcome mat, so that visitors could leave a little note in the mail box, gently pat the newel post, and walk away without feeling a uneasy sense that they've abandoned an old friend that just couldn't get to the door.

Rest in peace my friend, my lost neighbor.

Love,

Cathy Wilson

April 3, 2010
mushduckATyahooDOTcom

Into The Spring Woods . . .

2010-04-02T16:52:00.004-05:00

With Jonna and Hudson the terrier.

We weren't alone. Mr.Snapping Turtle didn't budge.

The eyes said it all . . .

" I'm tired of cold mud.

This light, this moss,

this log, this frog song are mine.

Move along."

We did.

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Spring Cleaning . . . Now Tuscon . .

2010-03-24T19:32:00.012-05:00

To any friend or lost soul who wandered in here . . . circumstances have me mainly using this blog to record memories of loveliness and the longing for . . . . for . . . .well . . I guess a longing to seek refuge in nature - a refuge from these turbulent times.

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Looking back . .

2010-03-23T20:04:00.018-05:00

Upside down cloud reflection in pond.

SHARK!

Looking back isn't as painful now that the sun and the birds are returning:0)

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In the air . . in the soil . . in the trees . . . in the breeze

2010-03-14T17:19:00.015-05:00

. . around last years goldfinch nest . . .

Something's stirring . . .

On my windshield . .

On my brother's hat - a White-throated sparrow . .

amidst the Aconite blooms . .

in the Vernal Witch hazel it's drifting . .

around the Snowdrop and first bee it's wafting. . .

and calls us to do some spring cleaning . . .

Yes, something's stirring.
. . . . in the robin's song.

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Yikes!

2010-03-09T14:00:00.006-05:00

When I took the above picture, I really hadn't appreciated how ughhhhhly this bird's feet are. Kinda makes me feel better about my own not-so-gorgeous toes.

Any guesses as to the owner of those scary pink appendages?

Hmmmmm?

Give up?

OK. Here's a shot I got of Wood Storks wading out a soaking rain at Sanibel Island, Florida.

(do click! They're ready for their closeup;0)

So ugly they're purty.

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Oh, a wondrous bird is the pelican!

2010-02-03T20:41:00.016-05:00

Do click on a few of these!

It had rained all day. Something told me to swing through Ding Darling Refuge one more time. Birders and tourists had been discouraged by the rain and only one other little couple witnessed this most beautiful of events. More than a hundred white pelicans lifted off in wave after bright wave contrasted against the dark receding storm clouds.

Something appeared on my camera screen I'd never seen before: the memory card is full.

Therefore I missed the most dramatic shots, but after that initial moment of heart-sinking disbelief I reminded myself to listen and watch as the light and sound washed over me.

BTW: Need to mention that the white pelican has a wingspan of 10 feet and can weigh up to 20 pounds. Oh yeah.

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Lightness

2010-01-30T10:57:00.022-05:00

Kindness has a lovely face . .

Nevermind!

All is right with the world . . .

A lot of living in fifteen minutes.

Beach Scenes

2010-01-27T16:14:00.009-05:00

I simply recorded what our fellow humans are doing with their leisure time. Sunshine has some interesting effects.

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How we suffer and yet . . .

2010-01-08T19:46:00.011-05:00

how we burn with love, wonder, tenacity.

Having abandoned my fellow bloggers for months, I finally screwed up the courage to return to people's lintels.

Pam, from Mind Trips, has been suffering from Lou Gehrig's Disease as did my beautiful father. As an artist, she turned to her computer to maintain her ability to express her love of life.

I was honored to have her use one of my photos to create the serene vision below.

Pam has not posted since March.

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Remembering the Gifts of 2009

2009-12-30T11:19:00.017-05:00

May every happiness be yours in the New Year.

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Receive

2009-11-04T10:35:00.070-05:00

Receive, receive
the snow, the sifting,
receive the whiteness
sweeping, sweeping
across sear leaves receive,
receiving
the weight of nothing,
air conceiving
wafting crystals,
frost-winged moths
drifting down,
swept aloft.
Across the yard
and limbs receiving,
as the sun is gently leaving,
softness, softness
gently whispering,
softness, softness
now descending
through the trees,
across the eaves,
. . .receive
. .. . receive . . . .
receive . . . .
. . . . . . . receive.

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In Lieu of Flowers. November.

2009-10-29T17:52:00.015-05:00

Leave us something of yourself,
sweet trees, indifferent bees,
spiders wrapping up a summer’s job,
now listless in the chilly breeze.
Leave us something of yourself.

Do not forget these eyes that traced
your spinning nets and pollened toes
and watched you love the sky’s bright face
with fingertips that rose
above the earth in garrulous green.

Leave us here believing
in the hills aglow, again -
and in a churning freshet searching
for what it cannot know,
but, then again,

knows.

It is this season’s yearnings
that foretell the bright returnings.

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Joy in the Rain

2009-08-11T14:36:00.019-05:00

The rain pattered on my windshield. The park visitors ran for their cars. I continued to read the newspaper until I saw the following through my rain-splattered window. She was a football field's length from me. Still, you couldn't miss her joy in rain.

Click on this image. Look into the shadows on the right.

I know what she's thinking. Was I ever so young? So purely innocently happy? Perhaps, not. But this child's rain-induced joy is enough for this day.

Update: OK. It was a little projection when I identified that figure in the shade as a crop-haired old woman. Sheesh. Looks like a kid of the male variety:0)

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Lauren and light . . . .

2009-06-10T13:24:00.013-05:00

It pleases me so to follow that last post with one filled with light and love. My little grand niece, Lauren Marie, was baptized last weekend. I know I needn't label these pictures. Just think 'love', 'family', 'light' . . . .

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Flying

2009-05-27T11:52:00.025-05:00

Our Town Memorial Day Ceremony

Pollen

TAPS

Day is done
Gone the sun
From the lakes
From the hills
From the sky All is well,
safely rest.
God is nigh.
Fading light Dims the sight
And a star Gems the sky,
Gleaning bright From afar,
Drawing nigh,
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise,
For our days,
Neath the sun,
Neath the stars,
Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.

This is where I am. "Looking Up" is merely recording visuals. People or insects. Clouds of moisture or pollen. For you who drop by, I turn and smile a knowing smile. The only caption I would wish for these pictures as they sift from the ether - is Gratitude.

Life flies. Beauty is at hand. Run, run! That's all. Sending you all smile upon smile from this sixty-two year old woman who has lived in the greatest country on earth and now looks back with gratitude and forward with hope.

When snow drifts the door . . . I'll return to your lintels. Fly! Fly!

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Ah, Spring.

2009-04-23T10:07:00.012-05:00

From the ridiculous to the sublime. An interesting week.

Yep, I had to put this sign out there to stop the mayhem. Twice a year we can put unlimited trash on the curb. Stand back, folks. It's a jungle out there.

This was soooo cool. It's a Poison Hemlock moth who overwintered on a dirty windowsill ledge, just inside the screen. Can you believe the camouflage?

I think it's an aberrant house finch. First, for me. (Just did a little research. It's diet.)

My niece, Sarah, and little Katie. Wind, pinwheels, and spring. Sublime.

Katie's new sweet sis, Lauren. Yep, sublime.

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Through the Trees

2009-04-06T15:17:00.015-05:00

Loudonville, Ohio. Where my brother and sis-in-law live among trees.

This is Tito. He likes looking at trees.

We took him on a ride in the country this weekend.

My brother took us waaaay back into rolling hills. He loves this tree.

Robin said, "Look up!" We did. Very different clouds.

"Draw!" said cowboy Keith.

Go ahead, click on the pix. I am arteeste ;0)

This one is for my brother. He looks at trees, rocks and people the way I do.

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Spring House Cleaning

2009-03-31T19:17:00.007-05:00

This is what I've been doing rather than facing the garage and basement. I'll bet you'd have cabin fever, too, if you lived as far north as some of your fellow bloggers. It's good to be out-of-doors.

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Sure signs . . .

2009-03-26T21:45:00.011-05:00

(To those not versed in 'swan ways' . . . that's a love bite. Not to worry.)

Light and Pollen. Spring.

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White. Bright Heart

2009-03-26T21:19:00.017-05:00

Absolution

I was alone,
my small dark soul,
its wings hunched
beneath shame's weight.
The little light in the quiet
where I whispered sins
to the tired priest,
still rests inside that child’s heart.
Sweet sad light.

Today, I walked beside a lake
and startled when I saw the swans
released before the sun’s warm arms
have lifted leaves and grasses.

March is cold, but full of light;
a light that fills the outstretched wings
of a freed and joyous heart.
Oh white! White! White!
Oh white, bright heart!

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Spring Gratitude

2009-03-15T11:24:00.009-05:00

The sap is headed sun-ward. At night - winter tries to pull it back.

I watched this fellow pruning sapsicles.

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At first glance I thought he was gnawing on a bone, but naaah.

Is he cryn' ?

Yeah. Pretty sure that's a tear of gratitude.

Is that a happy tear on the robin's cheek, too. Alleluia. Spring at last.

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Ohio . . . . . Arizona . . . . Ohio . . . . Arizona Hmmm

2009-03-10T11:34:00.014-05:00

If you asked these two winter-weary comrades - I'll bet they'd choose Arizona.

OK, wiseacres - you can come up with your own caption, but Chilhuly calls this 'Saffron Tower',

This pix is a metaphor for my winter-scrambled brain.

Another planet far far away. Sunlight, birds, faces that smile. Oh,sure, but find a decent mud puddle! Nah-ni-nah-ni-nah-na. We Ohioans have mud and you AZonians dohon't . . . ;0)

(Disclosure:0) We did get to enjoy a week of this very special place.
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Goodbye to All That

2009-02-08T11:15:00.016-05:00

Pelicans

2009-01-26T20:56:00.011-05:00

"Oh, a wondrous bird is the pelican!
His bill holds more than his belican.
He can take in his beak
Enough food for a week.
But I'm darned if I know how the helican."

Dixon Lanier Merritt
(1879-1972)

Addendum :0)

You've said such nice things. I've gotta tell you these pixes were dumb luck.
These pelicans were feeding right beneath the fish pier on Sanibel.
The light was perfect. It only happened once in the 3 weeks we've been here. Luck.
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My Wish for the New Year.More . . . . please.

2008-12-28T15:19:00.015-05:00

More happy surprises.

More sunrises with magic in their promise.

More Mystery and the opportunity to go exploring.

More listening to the voices that say 'come in'.

More glistening tree tops

More beauty in unexpected places.

More 'firsts' and TLC from a caring hubby.

More chances for a bullseye.

More time to look at clouds . . .

More whimsy.

More please.

And more new friends while cherishing the old.

All my wishes for all good things in the New Year - to you and those you cherish.

...................................................................

Wistful Novemeber

2008-11-05T20:27:00.009-05:00

Good people.

Good people.

November? So soon?

You bring your little candle to my door -

and ask for nothing

and leave

a smile.

Good people.

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Update:

I know that all your families face challenges
and heartache . . .

My particulars are a paralyzed brother-in-law
a farmer - in an accident.

An aunt who will always be the tomboy
that led us on safaris and later to Aida . .
now facing endings.

Because you asked, good friends . . .
The plumbing is cranky ;0)
The shoulder is creaky ;-(
Still - fall came with color and breeze;
and pumpkins grinning from porches.

All will be well.

Sending love and smiles your way.

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Clouds Can Only Temporarily Obscure the Light

2008-10-28T20:58:00.003-05:00

Lovely. Thank you.

2008-09-09T14:38:00.005-05:00

Thank you from my heart. All is well. I'm posting from dear Hubby's computer as mine refuses to speak to the internet:0)

Everyday is filled with gratitude for love, caring and modern medicine.

That you all have not given up on me is pulling my heart strings till they draw tears.

Really, all is well. I know by the time the snow flies I'll be joining the merriment, the thought-provoking commentary - the whimsy and celebration that is all of you.

Much Love,
Cathy

Gosh . . . .

2008-07-22T15:22:00.005-05:00

Still here . . . .

Just a little preoccupied . .

You good people. I've not read my comments for a month. Thank you. Thank you. Things have been a little rocky and then whilst on Cape Cod my computer gave up the ghost after my shoulder 'went'.

Long story short: the Cipro for the GI business caused a tendon rupture. Please know that I know that despite the bod's infirmities - I am blessed, blessed, blessed. And now I'm afraid of being a bore, bore, bore as my shoulder issue becomes the center of the universe.

You are missed. You are wonderful. Wishing you a sun-drenched August, soft summer evenings, lightning bugs and all the languid, joyous things you dreamed of last winter.

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Sweet June

2008-06-11T16:36:00.005-05:00

Nuff said?

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Purge-atory

2008-06-03T16:14:00.008-05:00

Oh my friends - if you could hear the rumblings. Tomorrow is roto-rooter day. One bottle of Fleets Phospho Soda down and one to go. And I do mean go.

Step back in time with me when this blog spouted poetry and pictures. Remember the romps through indignation and delight, memory and mischief.

Now you are consigned to the complaints of an aging alimentary canal.

But after tomorrow and what I'm sure will be a clean-bill-of-health (with caveats) - I'll be up like the rosebuds (clematis, actually) high on the vine in my front yard and back to visit your merry blogs.

Seriously. Your kind and supportive comments mean more than I can say. Thank you, dear friends.

UPDATE: It's over. Wooohee. The prep was a cinch . . . the procedure . . . well I was one of the lucky ones who get a 'spasm' - the joys of which are fairly similar to childbirth replete with vomiting.
BOTTOM LINE (Har!) : No cancer, but facing life with a crabby gut and the great desire not to bore the snot out of people with the further adventures of Cathy's GI issues. You are all the greatest!

Isn't It Romantic? Not!

2008-05-15T17:03:00.008-05:00

Before I finally succumbed to the 'thing' - I snapped this Tundra Swan.

My last day birding I spotted this female yellow-headed blackbird.

A black-throated blue warbler sporting a different look.

To those of you who wander back to this abandoned little outpost in northwest Ohio - my sincere gratitude and apologies that your journeys have been for naught.

I know you've all heard of that tombstone in the Florida Keys that reads: "I told you I was sick".

Well. Mercy me. Now I have an answer as to why I just didn't feel good. It took a really miserable event to land me in the emergency room and into a CT to determine that the old gray mare has developed (I'm whispering this now) diverticulitis.

So more drugs and procedures are scheduled whilst I lie here behaving myself on bland food. I will not even create a link to this condition. Just don't get it. Ick.

Meanwhile the spring migration of warblers is passing over my head and I'm not on the lake to celebrate with the other birders. Poor me.

Actually, I'm just so grateful to have a diagnosis that I'm not indulging in a major pity party. It's OK to be on the receiving end of TLC. Really OK :0)

Hope all is well with you. Happy Spring. Happy Birding.

Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water

2008-04-19T14:52:00.013-05:00

Spring has been a little slow arriving.

It's a cliche, but no less, true: It's always darkest before the dawn.

It's the smiles of others that can bring you around. (Particularly if you're out for Woodcock viewing)

The sweet face of my grand-niece, Katie - makes me smile.

The promise of spring is found in the humblest places.

My front yard ducks bring a smile.

Or a sweet niece and nephew lending a hand to their ma and pa.

There's always someone or something out there to help launch your spirits.

Sometimes all you need to do is lift your hat and look around.

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Curiouser and Curiouser

2008-04-18T15:04:00.017-05:00

My Double Bloodroot

Seems I'm shifting gears rather sluggishly, this spring.
I was spurred to post today because a curious thing occurred. Someone read my letter to the editor in the Wall Street Journal and moved by my "uncommon common sense" - sent me a book. Now imagine that: $15.00 plus postage to a stranger.

It's Mark Cahill's One Heartbeat Away. The query on the back cover asks: Is that all there is? This life and nothing more? It's a call to come to faith.

Well. Having spent too many hours in the last two days, sending comments to all the venues covering the Aliza Shvarts horror - and wrestling with that grubby little cloud in my head . . . well, I found the timing rather interesting.

I know that a few of my blogging buddies are people of faith. I've envied them that certainty.

I've not dropped by any of your blogs, recently, and hope that you're all so busy 'springin' that I'm not missing too much. In following the Shvarts story I followed an eloquent statement to Julie's blog, A Work in Progress. I needed the respite.

Anyhoo. Wishing you sunshine and puddles of daffodils and magnolia petals drifting down into green green lawns. I've cracked the door. The air is soft.

UPDATE:

A couple of you inquired about my WSJ letter. I was compelled to respond to a March 26 front page article about the increasing violence in black funeral parlors: "Deadly Business: Violence Roils Black Funeral Parlors". It really made me nuts because it dodged some of the very real problems confronting the black community and tried to correlate violence in black funeral parlor to the the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq. Huh?

Here's the wee bit of my letter they printed in their April 3 Letters To The Editor section:

May I suggest that the experts take a look at the entertainment culture?
How can one seriously wring one’s hands about the killing and turn a blind eye to the insidious, pernicious message from the dark world of much of gangsta rap music? The eulogies will continue and the fear and blood will not abate as long as we avert our faces from the corrosive effect of that part of the black youth culture.

Re-emergence

2008-04-06T08:51:00.014-05:00

The sun is back.

The Robins are back and singing despite the snow.

Two weeks ago I saw these tracks and knew my possum had stirred from under the shed.

Sure enough. There she is. Awwwww . . .(Really, she is there - just through the screen, beyond the dogwood trunks and drinking from the heated birdbath.)

My backyard ducks are back.

The Goldfinch's 'true colors' are re-emerging.

I shared my breakfast with the first fly of the season. He flew through my open car window as I relaxed in the local park.

That's Spring - sunshine and sitting on the porch to visit with newly emerged neighbors over a cup of coffee or a bit of toast. My license plates read: MI PORCH

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A Poem On Winter's Departure

2008-04-01T09:32:00.016-05:00

Deer hooves left muddy splashes as they crossed the brook.

Tracks indicated that someone made it home to safety . . .

. . after a narrow escape

Leavings

With winter's leaving

we will not see as clearly

where the deer stepped across the brook,

where the rabbit spun

toward home.

We will not remember

so clearly

the ice that climbed the broken stalks

and sparkled from a tuft of fur.

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Shrugging It Off

2008-03-30T15:56:00.009-05:00

It's time to turn over a new leaf. We're ready for new leaves.

The garden angel is tired of her ermine hat and shawl.

All winter she's shared her cape with the Virginia Creeper that crept beneath it for shelter.

I envy her her patience.

We've all been clinging to thoughts of Spring.

Through the cold and snow - some of us have retained a rosey countenance.

Some of us have just been able to shrug it off.

Getting tired of shrugging? Do click the pix :0)

Had enough, yet?

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YEA! SNOW! AGAIN!

2008-03-29T10:50:00.015-05:00

I think I can say I speak for the Robins when I say, "Whhaaaaat?!"

waiting . . . waiting . . waiting. . . (cuter, clicked)

Hard water

Whose woods these are? The wonderful Toledo Metroparks.

White, white, white . . ..

All winter, frozen water has held nature fast.

Even the air is locked in ice . . .

Praying Mantis egg case

Everything is waiting . . for the warmth that will cause the little stirrings of the heart.

Well? If you can't lick it . .ummm . . . 'en-join' it?
After all, it can't last.

As Robert Frost said in his poem "Onset":

Yet all the precedent is on my side;
I know that winter death has never tried
The earth, but it has failed . . .

.

Dinosaur Sightings and Delicacies

2008-03-26T12:01:00.021-05:00

You remember the dinosaur and shark sightings in my last post. These are the neighborhood kids who asked for 5 dollars to shovel my drive and walks. Rigggght. It was heaviest snow of the year. They got 5 bucks each.(Actually, the one in pink got 2)

Regan provided the moral support. She also sampled the snow.

I've never seen a kid so engaged in eating snow.

She was consumed with consumption.

The fellas worked up a sweat as their chain gang moved down the sidewalk.

The heat made the dinosaur molt. He cooled down with a snow noogie.

Interior climate change did him in. He collapsed with extinction.

The shark and Regan kept shoveling snow.

When were you, ever, so in love . . .

With a handful of transformed water?

The sheer pleasure of snowmelt on your tongue?

Looking For the Easter Bunny

2008-03-23T16:53:00.006-05:00

There weren't any chocolate eggs when I woke up this morning so I went looking for that Wascally Wabbit.

There was a shark in my snowy driveway, but no Easter rabbit.

There was a dinosaur, too! (But, more on that tomorrow)

I went into the backyard looking for that rabbit. I saw this old b'ar who must have had a rough night.

A dinosaur nibbled my Forsythia buds. Hey! Stop that!

A slug considered a frosty snack.

A school of fish swam toward the Sun.

A lone fish, watched wistfully.

A beaver nibbled on the Forsythia twigs.

I saw a mother Polar bear and her cub.

Still no Easter Bunny . . . but wait! . . . .

There he was! Hopping across the creek! Hope your holiday was a Hoppy one ;0)

Sun-drenched Desert Places and Critters

2008-03-21T12:15:00.050-05:00

It was nice to be perched in Phoenix for a week. Yep. Those toes belong to a Cactus Wren. Listen?

The sun hones and highlights every surface.

Even the water is sun-drenched. (Listen?)

Gambles Quail Listen?

It's a lifer. Black-throated Sparrow Listen?

Blue Phacelia, Scorpion Weed, Wild Heliotrope

Owl Clover (Listen ?) Just kidding. That's a Pygmy Owl call.

If many large mistletoe plants become established on a single host tree it may succumb to the attack and die. Vigorous trees may abort the infected branch, thereby ridding itself of the parasite. But, consider also that berry-feeding birds deposit fertilizing guano.

My little Black-tailed Gnatcatcher Listen?.

It's just a pile of ancient rock, a couple Saguaro cactus and bit of Brittle bush bloom, but dang - that sunshine sure is pretty.
(Very ancient metamorphosed rocks: schist, gneiss, other deformed sedimentary rocks. Approximately 1.7 - 1.8 billion years old! (Precambrian metamorphic units)

How do you feel when you spot another plane from your aluminum tube window? Listen?

Let's take a closer look. Hey! down there! (keep your distance:0)

Headed back to Toledo, I caught this pix of the last sunshine and up-and-down topography we're likely to see in a looonnggg time.

Now you've got to click on this word Fractal! I don't know where the heck we are here. Any ideas?

ANY idea as to what or where this is?

Ruh Roh. Headed back under the clouds.

(kind'a wish I could head down that path) But . . . .
I'm going to start my Spring cleaning. Hopefully, by the time Spring REALLY arrives, I'll feel I've earned the time to run open-armed into its embrace. I'll be checkn' in on you all to follow your bliss as the warmth and song returns.

Spring!!!! (Sort of?)

2008-03-19T20:41:00.004-05:00

Well, dear friends, Happy Spring! The picture above was taken April 6 - last year. This year my daffodils are barely above the matted leaves in my front bed. Wow. What a difference a year makes.

Hope you've got some Spring in your yard. If not - hang on. Fellow bloggers from southern environs are sending glad tidings of warmth and song. Of hope.

(Swamp Things has some lovely spring flowers)

Four Hour Difference

2008-03-16T10:43:00.015-05:00

We're back home. We're back on the couch. We're trying not to turn the TV on. We're _________ (fill in the blank): 1.) sick of winter 2.) sick of winter
3.) Sick of winter
or 4.) All of the above.

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No Sunspots. Hello Next Ice Age ?

2008-03-06T22:11:00.017-05:00

I'm leaving the snow for a week to soak up some sunshine. I've been hearing some interesting things about our sun and the lack of sunspots. Apparently,some solar scientists are beginning to think we may be entering a phase of lower solar luminosity. SUNSPOTS seem to play an intrinsic roll in this. The Earth may be headed for a cooler period; possibly a much colder weather cycle over the next decades.

Sunspots are very interesting phenomena that peak in numbers and diminish again in 11 year cycles on average.

Scientists at NCAR think that cycle 24 is delayed and actually think that may herald a stronger than average solar cycle. It's getting late. They said the sunspots would materialize by 2007 or early 2008. The sunspots still haven't materialized. Watch this image updated daily by SOHO.

Kenneth Tapping, a solar researcher and project director for Canada's National Research Council, is among those looking at the sun for evidence of an increase in sunspot activity.

Solar activity fluctuates in an 11-year cycle. But so far in this cycle, the sun has been disturbingly quiet. The lack of increased activity could signal the beginning of what is known as a Maunder Minimum, an event which occurs every couple of centuries and can last as long as a century.

If sunspots don't materialize in the next few months - we may be headed into weather that will make this last winter seem wimpy. The upside of a long-duration minimal sunspot period is that it will put the brakes (big time) on global warming.

The downside is the prospect of another mini-ice age. If sunspots don't show up pretty soon - I'm going to start shopping for swampland in Florida.

Pray for sunspots.

LATEST BREAKING NEWS! This teeny spot on the far side of the sun could be the first sunspot of cycle 24!

This Weather is a Turkey!

2008-03-04T08:46:00.024-05:00

I read that Nina is enjoying Aconite and SALAMANDERS and is hearing Spring Peepers. Mary has Blue Birds. Tom saw his first Robin. Check! Pam, at least found Spring color in the aisles of her garden store. Swampe has trillium, violet and starwort! Oh! And Three Collie shared her dream of spring:) Larry has a video of a Robin taking its Spring bath. Laura had 'hints' of Spring. And Ruth is wandering around daffodil-festooned hills.(in Wordsworth's poem:0)

Oh, yeah. I've got some possum tracks. I lured him out from under the shed last night with stale bread. (I knew he'd be hungry - it's been a long winter)

Lifeless Lake Wilson has shown up on schedule. (Hard to believe that Lily of the Valley will be blooming there in a couple months)

I've basicallly got bupkiss as far as Spring goes. But, like Lynne, and Ruthie, I've got a turkey. (Do CLICK on it ) (Ruthie does have some cute Spring color HERE )

I guess even ice and monotone hues have their charm . . . . but I'm so ready . . . for COLOR! Thanks to all of you who send your Spring colors our way. If I've missed your recent Spring post - just remind me and I'll link to it here.

I think I'll give a MYSTERY BLOGGER the final word on this time of year.

Snow.

2008-03-01T13:17:00.013-05:00

I've lost credibility with this Cardinal. He heard me shouting that Spring was here a few days ago.

Everything is dusted with SNOW, again.

My little Titmouse looks expectant.

My Cardinal seems a little wistful.

I think he looks kinda handsome with those snow crystals festooning his beak.

Am I mistaken, or is that an accusatory look?

Hey, Lady. Why don't you come out and enjoy this Spring weather with me?

I guess we're all a little grumpy, impatient and out-of-sorts as the snow piles up and the promise of Spring seems stalled somewhere south of us. How are 'you' holding up? (OK, Mare - I know you're doing better than the rest of us :0) Oh! And lucky Julie Z - somewhere in sunny Guatemala. I hope someone has warmth and sunshine.

Dang ,

2008-02-29T12:28:00.005-05:00

What's not to love as long as you're bigger than a bread box? (or small squirrel)

SQUINTING

2008-02-26T11:06:00.011-05:00

I don't mind these snowy days.
In February they are the bride's flowing cumbersome veil.
It's lovely, but we don't have to trip around in it much longer.

Neighbor Rick is shoveling again this morning.

Our mailman,Dave, has to slog through virgin snow, again.

It's all about texture and light..

The Cardinal warily watches for the hawk.

None of his fellows have hit my windows since the silk forsythia boughs went up.

It looks wintry, but the real forsythia will soon be in bloom.

The light on the kitchen counter yesterday, told the real story.

I'm all aglow.

You call this a snowstorm? It's white. It came from the sky. But . . . it's late February.

'Light'-ness of Heart

2008-02-24T11:56:00.019-05:00

From bed this morning, I watched the moon slip through outstretched arms.

It was briefly captured by a crystal ocean breeze.

We had a rosy dawn courtesy of the Red-bellied tummy.

I recorded fossil creatures emerging from snow banks.

A rat. C'mon, now. Believe.

You do see the rodent, here?

An Alligator . . . ? (his head is on the right -angled away)

This is the mailman's winter path. Farewell!

I yahooed Spring! to the man with the two dogs whom I've seen walk by for a few seasons but never met. He dropped off his dogs and returned to sit on the porch and visit. I shared my large blanket - it was 25'. After an hour my husband came out to see what was going on. Russ teaches American literature at UT. We covered so many topics I was giddy.
Ah. Spring. . . .

Made It!

2008-02-23T08:24:00.005-05:00

I'm sitting on the front porch to post this announcement. From my thawing heart to yours - a message of Cardinal song, Snow Drops pushing up through the receding patches of snow, neighbors peering uncertainly from their windows, resisting hope for fear the sense of light and song may be an illusion.

It's real. Come out! Come out! The tree roots are sending life upward. The creatures herald it with stirrings and rustlings.

My fingers are numb, but this old heart knows that winter is over.

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I Think My Son Will Be Pleased For Me

2008-02-21T19:49:00.018-05:00

It was cold and my camera skills suck. Oh, yeah, I can point and shoot and Bev from Burning Silo helped me learn the macro feature. During his Christmas vacation my son tried to give me some pointers on other features of my year old camera. In one ear and out the other.

So I stood in the 13' frigid air spinning that dial wishing I could call him, but too proud to let him remind me that I'd been distracted by a Raymond rerun during his tutorial.

I got lucky. The wheel stopped on the ISO setting (Insomniac Sleep Over?) and I got it! My very own eclipse. Well - I guess I shared it with many thousands of other glitter seekers. Kind of nice to think we were all looking at the same glowing orb at the same time.

Jody tells me that our forays under night skies steered him into astrophysics. He has mixed feelings about his career choice, but he's sifted some mighty fine light from the ends of telescopes and with serendipity and hard work discovered the sodium tail of our moon and defined and modeled the sodium taurus cloud of Jupiter's moon Io. He now is working on Mercury and our moon, trying to tease apart the mystery of the why-fores and where-fores of sodium emanations from their surfaces.

I'M SO PROUD OF HIM. Here is some of the media coverage of his and his team's findings. CNN. Discover Magazine. BBC.

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Watch The Birdy

2008-02-18T16:48:00.024-05:00

Inspired by Mary of 'Mary's View' who has to be one of the nicest and funniest people in the blogisphere - I submit my gallery of funny bird visages. Thanks for the smiles, Mary . . . I hope these give you a few.

To swallow or not to swallow.

Lift Off. (Wood Stork toes)

He was singing his heart out atop old Baldy.

Coy. (She knows she's gorgeous)

Bad hair day.

Happy as a puppy with two peckers?

Daytime Night Heron. (Trying to ignore this idiot photographer)

White pelican in a rare awkward moment.

Grace.

Circle of life. Or . . . an unwilling dinner guest.

Leverage

Well . . . not exactly poetry in motion, but when you're a white morph of the Reddish Egret - you're special and you know it.

Check out his balletic 'plie'.

Check out his 'attitude'.

I dunno. It's that wild-eyed look and the pompadour that makes me see Jerry Lee Lewis.

Sunny Smiles

2008-01-26T19:46:00.000-05:00

It sure is easier to smile in Florida. Sending you all sunnier smiles.

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Just a Wave Hello With Gratitude

2008-01-15T09:36:00.001-05:00

Reflect (Perhaps my favorite picture from this past year)
(I think this pix is worth a CLICK :0)

Rest

Believe In The Light's Return

Dark winter days. The heart and mind try not to follow. This winter's mood was perhaps foreshadowed by my mother's heart attack. She's now headed for Florida with sister Beth.

To you dear friends who've dropped in to look for signs of life - my gratitude. I've just lost the energy to blog amidst a few family concerns and niggling health matters. There is so much to celebrate and anticipate. I know the lengthening days will renew my energy. For now - a bit more rest, reflection and mindfulness of all that is good and gentle. All my warm wishes for your health and happiness as we wait for the promise of Spring.

Reflections . . . .

2007-12-10T16:29:00.001-05:00

On a 61st birthday sunrise (shared with Mom)

Birthday reflections on Mom's cruet collection

I've been reflecting on my amazing mother. (Here, filling her bird feeders)

On the fact of Primrose blooming on the last day of Novemember

On the lovely grace of a niece. On the love of a merry husband.

On the strength of character and caring - of a nephew.

On the gift of a precious brother. (His 60th)

On the joy of celebrations.

On the magic of light and love during the days of solstice waiting. (The tree is from the Botanic Garden compost pile :0)

I've missed dropping in on you all. I know you know how life throws curves when you want to follow a preferred trajectory. It's all about bending with the breezes, right? My blogging has borne the brunt of the season's turnings.

Merry Christmas and warmest wishes for happiness and health in the New Year.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

2007-11-18T12:43:00.000-05:00

Gentlemen (women:0) Start your engines.

My Hubby and neighbor who's behind the bush in the upper right-hand corner (dang! I should know his name) - engaging the enemy.

Our neighbor, Irv. Yep. Leaf blowing.

I only glimpse Deb a few times a year through the hemlocks. She's chasing leaves, too.

I say a little prayer when our neighbor, Rick, gets on that danged roof.

I think I heard next years leaf buds sniggering at the futility of our efforts.

Do you hear it? I did. Even with ear protection: Sniggering.
BTW - that's a buckeye necklace. Big game day :0)

Thirty years ago we moved into a development called Lincoln WOODS. We'd lived in Denver during the first part of our marriage. There weren't many trees and heck - those prairie/foothill winds made short work of leaf-blowing.

Well. The friendly shade-providing trees around our Midwestern home are now 30 years older and bigger and leafier. My hubby and I are also 30 years older, bigger and . . . . well, bigger.

The trees seem to be doing fine. In fact I think I hear them sniggering up there as they watch us mortals cleaning up the shavings from the floor beneath their summer's work bench. Listen. Do you hear it?

Here's a great Robert Frost poem about leaf raking. At the literal level - it records something of the nature of the big Leaf Roundup.

Gathering Leaves

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.
Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?

Robert Frost

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Presents

2007-11-14T23:40:00.000-05:00

The flowers, fabric, ceramic and wood assembled here were gifts from great women. I cherish them more than I can say. Yes, the gifts - but the women above all.

My friend Daisy Winifred, from across the big pond has discovered this intriguing meme that grows with giving. I like her words: "I found an idea I loved and have signed up. I am not someone who participates in the meme things usually but love the 'reality' of this and the thought of the giving of gifts to 'strangers' such a delightful idea that I am standing at this quiet crossroads and looking forward to those who might pass and ask for a gift from my bag, pocket or hand:0)"

So here's the Meme/idea -
The first three people to comment here and then post the same message on their blogs will receive a small (real, not virtual) present from me!

Now, as D-W explained to me - the present may be as simple as a bit of foliage from the garden . . . . and it may take a while to meander your direction, but the beauty will be in the giving - the connection and the fun of participating in this whimsical way of touching other's lives.

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November 12, 1961

2007-11-12T10:38:00.001-05:00

Today is my sister Jen's birthday. This picture of her helping our son learn to walk - is one of my treasured possessions.

Jenny has always been a serious observer of life. Her keen intellect and insight can make a conversation or an afternoon fly. I think she must be about two, here. I spent a few nights alone in my mother's home while Mom was in ICU. I photographed her picture wall. These photographs kept me company during some long evenings.

Jen matured into a thoughtful, lovely young woman. She graduated from OSU - moved to Colorado, graduated at the top of her class in EE, then married a great man with whom she is raising their two daughters. Did I say how pleased I am for her successes - how proud I am?

These are Jen and Len's cherished girls, Laura and Kate.

I'm so proud to be her big sister. I like to think that my love for her might have contributed in a small way to the person, wife and mother she has become. Yep, that's a big sister's prerogative - to bask in the light that is her kid-sis. Happy Birthday, Jenny.

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