brief night sit on the porch with the boy and the dog.
crisp evening, bright stars, gentle breeze, boy under a blanket with a hat.
today the town approved the plans for the house that will be built behind ours; the changes will be starting soon.
our yard has finally reached the halfway point: only half of it remains covered in snow now! it remains deepest in the forest, amongst the bare deciduous trees. it has melted under all the evergreens and on much of the meadow, especially where the melted snow flows and where the ground slopes toward the south. tulips and daffodils have begun to push up above the ground, along with some daylilies.
looking at the stretch of trees that are planned to be cut down for the road, standing tall and dark against the dark sky with the stars above them, it came to me to make a stamp of them for letterboxing, to keep their story alive. (see letterboxing.org and atlasquest.com if you're interested)
Monday, April 7, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Sunday, April 6
afternoon sit with the boy and the dog.
cold, raw day. cloudy, little breeze. haven't seen many birds at the feeders today, but heard chickadees, crows, doves while outside.
stood a little ways from the pine for today's sit. on the crest of a little rise, the yard and our neighbor's yards looked quite different to me; the new perspective showed me the land as simply land, not as the separate yards that i usually see when i look around. suddenly, i could see the whole picture of the land: the way it all descends generally in one direction, little soggy plateaus here and there, the open areas formed by mown areas, driveways, the road, and the forested areas left to grow tall.
the rodents' winter tunnels are all being exposed by the melting snow: long, winding mounds of mud running over the earth. some end at small holes descending into the ground, some simply lie there, like an impressively long dog poop.
one of the surveyors' tags moved slightly in the breeze as i was standing near it. i moved to it to look closely at it, thinking i saw some kind of mark on it. it has very faint images of the state of texas all over it.
cold, raw day. cloudy, little breeze. haven't seen many birds at the feeders today, but heard chickadees, crows, doves while outside.
stood a little ways from the pine for today's sit. on the crest of a little rise, the yard and our neighbor's yards looked quite different to me; the new perspective showed me the land as simply land, not as the separate yards that i usually see when i look around. suddenly, i could see the whole picture of the land: the way it all descends generally in one direction, little soggy plateaus here and there, the open areas formed by mown areas, driveways, the road, and the forested areas left to grow tall.
the rodents' winter tunnels are all being exposed by the melting snow: long, winding mounds of mud running over the earth. some end at small holes descending into the ground, some simply lie there, like an impressively long dog poop.
one of the surveyors' tags moved slightly in the breeze as i was standing near it. i moved to it to look closely at it, thinking i saw some kind of mark on it. it has very faint images of the state of texas all over it.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Saturday, April 5
night sit on the porch.
surveyers were here again today, preparing the land behind our house for the new house that will be built soon. i've decided to leave my sit spot pine to the woodcocks for now; they will be facing enough disruption in their lives with the building, they don't need it from my presence, too.
quiet night, but for the sound of water trickling over the earth and people going by in cars.
did my body scan and then the sense meditation. these two exercises simply transport me from one universe into another, from the world of my thoughts that only exists inside my head to the actual world around me - the night, the cold, the wintry smell, the lay of the land, the grass and pooled water and snow. i find, too, that when i tune in to my sight, hearing, touch, and smell, and then hold them all at once, that my sense of connection to the world - the sense of my actual physical connection to things - feels like it expands to include everything i am sensing, and i develop an intuitive sense, a sense of the energy of them. these ropes of sensing extend to the forest further from me, since i can hear things happening in it, and to the land upwind from me, because i can smell scents coming from there.
surveyers were here again today, preparing the land behind our house for the new house that will be built soon. i've decided to leave my sit spot pine to the woodcocks for now; they will be facing enough disruption in their lives with the building, they don't need it from my presence, too.
quiet night, but for the sound of water trickling over the earth and people going by in cars.
did my body scan and then the sense meditation. these two exercises simply transport me from one universe into another, from the world of my thoughts that only exists inside my head to the actual world around me - the night, the cold, the wintry smell, the lay of the land, the grass and pooled water and snow. i find, too, that when i tune in to my sight, hearing, touch, and smell, and then hold them all at once, that my sense of connection to the world - the sense of my actual physical connection to things - feels like it expands to include everything i am sensing, and i develop an intuitive sense, a sense of the energy of them. these ropes of sensing extend to the forest further from me, since i can hear things happening in it, and to the land upwind from me, because i can smell scents coming from there.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Friday, April 4
night sit on the porch with the boy and the dog.
dark, rainy, breezy, chilly. felt like ocean wind tonight, cold and wet. been preparing food all night, organizing the house, radio on, lights on, stuff. went outside, and the night was restful, calm, quiet. the only sound was cars, dripping rain, and breeze.
deerwoman from the kamana forum suggested american woodcock as my bird from the other night. i look it up on the cornell site tonight - bingo! it also explains the "beezping" "frogs" i've been hearing at dusk and wondering about...
dark, rainy, breezy, chilly. felt like ocean wind tonight, cold and wet. been preparing food all night, organizing the house, radio on, lights on, stuff. went outside, and the night was restful, calm, quiet. the only sound was cars, dripping rain, and breeze.
deerwoman from the kamana forum suggested american woodcock as my bird from the other night. i look it up on the cornell site tonight - bingo! it also explains the "beezping" "frogs" i've been hearing at dusk and wondering about...
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Thursday, April 3
day sit with the boy and the dog. breezy. warm sun, cool shade.
on the way to the sit spot, my dog found the spot where the fox had eaten the turkey a little while back, now that the snow has melted and uncovered the remaining feathers. there was a large portion of a wing remaining intact, which he sampled until i reminded him of his pancreatitis.
under the pine, the air was rich with the full scent of pine, a deeper and rounder smell than on earlier sunny days. the snow in the backyard, shaded by trees in the afternoon, is still over my knee, as my successful postholing revealed, but it's only about eight inches in the sunnier parts of the yard. it continues to pull away from the base of the trees, leaving wide brown carpets below them.
today was one of those days when the weather tugs at you to be outside. the bright, abundant sun, the breeze that made me want to remove my jacket rather than pull it tightly closed, all of the birds chanting, the awareness that seeds are sprouting and will soon appear above ground. the need to get out felt instinctive, it came from such depths, and i felt frantic when i was in for too long.
the boy, the dog, and i spent the afternoon out, looking at and talking about the trees, the sky, the earth, the birds, shadow and sun.
on the way to the sit spot, my dog found the spot where the fox had eaten the turkey a little while back, now that the snow has melted and uncovered the remaining feathers. there was a large portion of a wing remaining intact, which he sampled until i reminded him of his pancreatitis.
under the pine, the air was rich with the full scent of pine, a deeper and rounder smell than on earlier sunny days. the snow in the backyard, shaded by trees in the afternoon, is still over my knee, as my successful postholing revealed, but it's only about eight inches in the sunnier parts of the yard. it continues to pull away from the base of the trees, leaving wide brown carpets below them.
today was one of those days when the weather tugs at you to be outside. the bright, abundant sun, the breeze that made me want to remove my jacket rather than pull it tightly closed, all of the birds chanting, the awareness that seeds are sprouting and will soon appear above ground. the need to get out felt instinctive, it came from such depths, and i felt frantic when i was in for too long.
the boy, the dog, and i spent the afternoon out, looking at and talking about the trees, the sky, the earth, the birds, shadow and sun.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Wednesday, April 2
evening sit with the boy.
blue twilight, chilly wind. before our sit, we were walking outside at dusk and heard a chipping/peeping sound above us. i looked up and watched a creature flying through the air slowly in large circles, its wings beating rapidly. looked about the size of a robin. from what i could make out in the dim light, it didn't have a prominent tail. pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew, very rapidly, like a dove's wings, only continuous.
flushed one of these creatures out again from behind my pine at the sit spot tonight; it had been roosting down low, if not on the ground. whipporwill? do bats ever venture down to the earth?
everything was enlivened tonight amidst the roaring of the wind. the trees were vibrant, dancing. the sky was maxfield parrish blues. the earth was rich, dark. the snow glowed dark gray.
blue twilight, chilly wind. before our sit, we were walking outside at dusk and heard a chipping/peeping sound above us. i looked up and watched a creature flying through the air slowly in large circles, its wings beating rapidly. looked about the size of a robin. from what i could make out in the dim light, it didn't have a prominent tail. pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew, very rapidly, like a dove's wings, only continuous.
flushed one of these creatures out again from behind my pine at the sit spot tonight; it had been roosting down low, if not on the ground. whipporwill? do bats ever venture down to the earth?
everything was enlivened tonight amidst the roaring of the wind. the trees were vibrant, dancing. the sky was maxfield parrish blues. the earth was rich, dark. the snow glowed dark gray.
Tuesday, April 1
April! April! April!
day sit with the boy and the dog.
the bare spots below the trees are joining now, creating long carpets of soft earth to walk on, skirting the snow. very warm out, up to 60, with a light breeze. everything is soggy and brown.
the trees are resounding with the songs of robins, chickadees, jays, goldfinches. today saw the arrival of juncos, tree swallows, nuthatches, purple finches, and my first sighting of house finches - so brilliant crimson! (peterson's doesn't do them justice.) male goldfinches are coming into bloom, and robins cover the ground and fill the air and the treetops.
day sit with the boy and the dog.
the bare spots below the trees are joining now, creating long carpets of soft earth to walk on, skirting the snow. very warm out, up to 60, with a light breeze. everything is soggy and brown.
the trees are resounding with the songs of robins, chickadees, jays, goldfinches. today saw the arrival of juncos, tree swallows, nuthatches, purple finches, and my first sighting of house finches - so brilliant crimson! (peterson's doesn't do them justice.) male goldfinches are coming into bloom, and robins cover the ground and fill the air and the treetops.
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