Wistful for Wisteria
Peeper frogs choir symphony at night
Birds singing in the crisp morning air
Loons cruising on the pond in synchronized natural movements
A collidascope of motion as cutting winds make designs on the surface
Pen’s potential energy released if only for a line a day
Spring comes slower in my new northern home
Surrounded by forest, hills and mountains
Ice out on the shallow pond April 24th the last pushed under by a day of gusts
In mind’s eye a clear view of the prospects as buds grow and change in color
I find myself Wistful for Wisteria which grew in beauty each year at my old abode
Pictures now memories
A scent I will never forget
As a polar vortex winter fades
and nature comes alive
Here April comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb
and May showers bring late May and June flowers
All the more wonder after a first spent northern winter
Hope and Faith have brought me here
where I belong
[click on any image for a sharper view]
The Touch of winter
A Crystal water caress of snow
The sunny silence of a cold winter day shines in a new coat
Icy wind crystallizes dreams of warmth
A dusting that covers the ice surface
A country skating rink marks a spot where the shore kisses a hill
Near a lake inlet which drains from frosted wetland
A wondrous place in natural flux of seasonal changes
A sacred place where giant granite boulders hold sway against manmade hand and the storms of nature
Mark the passing of glaciers past
The tick of a wall clocks seconds break the silence
The only reminder that this perfect land at waters’ edge has been touched by human
Dreams of ownership
Nothing but a single frozen vaporous breath or a seconds tick
In this lands grand timelessness
Yet winters icy grip cannot stop a heartfelt spirit or dissipate
The crystal dream of touching the infinite
All pictures taken with a NIKON D50 digital camera
Pawtuckaway Wetland Beavers
I am aware of our mortality and strive to make the most of each day. We can’t take it with us so we must walk our paths with love, hope and understanding.
The paths taken on walks in differing season give me pause to take in the lives of some of my natural neighbors. The Beaver population in the wetland system of Pawtuckaway State Park has fascinated me for the years lived in its midst.
Enjoy the simple things and you can feel the grand connection to it all. The old stone walls seen all thru New Hampshire and New England were put in place slowly, stone by stone walls were made day by day.
They framed old forest and field, stream river and lake shores.
The stone walls were made with great effort and persistence. They held the makers hopes and framed their dreams. The walls are not unlike the beavers den and winter food supply, it was all part of survival.
We can’t take it with us, but just as the ancestors we can leave our focus.
Whether framed in stone or words or decisions it remains after us,
Weathered by wind, water and time
With stones added and landscape shaped by those who cross this path.
This den is downlake from where I live. The branches you see sticking up are the tips of a winter food supply that is reached underwater, OUCH!
A one foot radius tree that the beaver is working on in an attempt to get at the rest of the tree. If only they could climb it would be easier.
Closeup of the tooth marks and work that goes into downing a tree with your teeth. I get tired of chewing downing a large meal!
The beaver has cut all of these sections in an attempt to down one tree which is still hung up in another tree. This shows the persistence and determination to survive which is inate in nature.
A closeup of the beaver den and the nights snack material.
I leave you on this path with the stream that fills the pond. This beaver has built a house with running water! Peace to all!
Fall is changing
Winds have pushed and pulled against it
Side currents and cutting winds buffit
as I cut the engine
Drift to the wind’s whine and whim
Beware the shore and hidden rock
Focused keen observation
a close call but a shift in the wind
moves us to safety
Two paddlers in a canoe
battle and shift then give in and drift to natural intent
Gusts and gestations of the nature of October late
Drifting past to future and season to season
Leaves have changed in color
Fallen in flashy death
Float move and shift as we do from where they land on the water
To become little ships and armadas at the mercy of the months manifestations
Bursts of beautiful in the last trees to change
The brilliant reds orange and yellow
have given over to the ambers and browns
Once again we drift too close to danger
turn over the engine shift and throttle up
Set a new course in adjustment to wind and the chops of lake surface
The boats ripples are lost in wave translation
Mark a course each day
with patience and without fear in mindful meditation of the present
Warrior ready we tie to the dock
and await whatever the seasons next present