Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays.

12/17/2008

Snow. Looks like a white Christmas. Iron pot hissing this morning on the wood stove. One final ice storm miracle. On Saturday, I went to the store to get a gasket for the stove. Outside there was a small tree totally covered with ice. The tree had these large clumps of small red berries completely encrusted in ice. As I was parking, a flock of large brown birds descended on the tree. They joyfully began chipping the ice off the berries, and having breakfast. You could see that they were happy and energized as they flashed from one clump to another. There was something very festive about the whole event. I went into the shop, and by the time I returned, the birds were gone.

A single red berry
has fallen
on the frost in the garden.
Shiki
Zen page a day calendar

spinning out of the sky

Cloudy. Melting snow in the hallways at work. Slush under the wheel wells. Salt on the car. Sparks from the snowplow as it rumbles along. Snowflakes spinning out of the sky. Lights in the parking lot reflecting off these glistening flakes as they fall softly to the ground. Yep, winter is the "dead" season.

coffee

Cloudy and six inches of snow. Lights from the snow plow blinking through the curtains in the bedroom. Went out to shovel the walkway, hearty laughter from the neighbor out walking her dog. Snowbanks growing. A sip of coffee.

crystalline pipe organs

Driving in to work in the morning, the hum of the snow tires on the road. The sun rising way to the south this time of year. Walls of ice forming in the usual places from exposed cuts in the rock walls along the roads. They've always reminded me of crystalline pipe organs.

winter

Sunny, and two below zero. Crunch and squeak of snow under foot. Car groaning when starting in the morning. Winter issue of Vermont Life Magazine observed. Deer and rabbit tracks in the snow.
What is your Original Nature,
Snowman?
Natsume Soseki
Zen page a day calendar

icicle

The other day I was walking over to production, and passed by the bird feeder they have there. I spied an icicle hanging from the bottom of the feeder. Honestly, it stopped me dead in my tracks. It had been so long since I'd seen an icicle. It wasn't that many weeks ago that if you wanted to see an icicle you would either have to look in the back of the freezer, or take a trip a long way to the north, or an even longer distance to the south. Yet here it was, ordinary and glorious.
I felt the same sense of wonder I feel in the spring when seeing a rhododendron, or observing a scarlet maple leaf in the fall. The miraculous shining out of the ordinary, it actually seems to happen almost every day.

snow as mother of pearl

A few days ago we had a wet snow that froze overnight. When I was looking at it the next morning I realized the number of hues that can be incorporated in something that is basically white. There were blues, yellows, any number of shades of "white". I realized there was a resemblance to mother of pearl, even though I really don't know much about mother of pearl. Colors within colors; colors within no color. I noticed that many forms of water exhibit the same phenomenon; clouds, icicles, clear winter creeks. I have seen this expressed in art come to think of it. Received a Christmas card entitled "Winter Dream" by Susan Komagai Fink. It shows an icy winter stream colored in aqua, red, yellow, purple; all the colors of the rainbow.

frost sun and shade

There is a season of the year that I never really thought too much about until I was driving home tonight. It is the season when the ground in the morning is coated with frost. It snowed today so we probably won't see much of that from now until spring. Obviously you don't see this during the summer. With the combination of bare ground, and temperatures hovering around freezing, there can be some interesting combinations of frost, sun, and shade. I saw something like this in the back yard the other day.

snow!

First steady snowfall of the year. Lights and sounds of the snow plows on the roads. Whine of the tires as I almost skid through a stop light on Route 7. Dusting of snow on the lawn, like confectioner's sugar. Observed some actual powdered sugar on the floor while eating some of the Christmas cookies Allyn made for the tree lighting in Ira.

clarity

Crystal clear. The Rohatsu sesshin starts today. I read on Space.com that today is when Venus is at its brightest so I went out to take a look. Venus was blazing in the southwest with Spica to the right, and Saturn above. Christmas tree lights on at the neighbor's house. Bright orange embers in the wood stove.

Leaning against the tree,
branches and leaves are few:
A night of stars.
Shiki

Post Script: I found this picture on Google Images of Venus, Saturn & Spica taken on November 10th. It was taken by "Astro Bob." Sort of sounds like a kindred spirit. I went in to tell Allyn about Venus about 6:00 this morning. I didn't want her to miss it. She shuffled out about 20 minutes later and said, "Where is it?" No good morning, no kiss, no nothing.
TSG

Post post script: The Rohatsu sesshin always takes place around December 8th, the Buddha's Enlightenment day. After a period of intense meditation, the Buddha attained enlightenment after glancing upon the morning star; that's right, the planet Venus.

film of ice

Cloudy. Snow tires on the Subaru. Castleton State hockey has started. UPS trucks delivering after dark in the Plaza. Twenty Canada geese on Wood's Pond in Brandon, a thin film of ice.

They end their flight
one by one-
crows at dusk
Buson

waltz

Sunny and calm after a wild and windy day yesterday. Tree branches scattered on roads and lawns all over Vermont. The waning crescent moon waltzing with the planet Venus in the morning sky. Crackling of the paper birch in the wood stove.

If it is true that God became
man, it is also true that man
became God...and so...
you haven't got to borrow from
God, for he is your own and
therefore, whatever you get,
you get from yourself.

Meister Eckhart
Zen page a day calendar

Christmas lights

Rainy. Wearing winter jacket to work. Illuminated Christmas trees near Vergennes. Christmas garlands on a white picket fence in Rutland. Christmas lights going up on houses in Ira & West Rutland

the pulse of life

When we were driving back from Ohio, we saw a number of large flocks of geese heading south for the winter. It reminded me of a morning a few weeks ago when I was driving through Middlebury. The skies overhead were filled with geese. The sizes of the formations ranged from 2 to 102. They were heading in all directions at a number of different elevations. A feeling somewhere between awe and elation rose up as I tried to take in the scene.
At first it seemed like something you would see on the plains of Africa, but then it reminded me of our trip to Alaska a few years ago. It didn't take long to see that the pulse of life beats very strongly there during the summer season. The swirling of life all around me that morning in the Valley of Vermont evoked a very similar sensation.

Thanksgiving

The climate in November in places like Vermont is usually cold, dark, and gloomy. Somehow the weather outside provides a perfect contrast to what's going on inside at Thanksgiving; light, laughter, love, coupled with the smells coming from the kitchen. I'll let the pictures do the talking.







We had a wonderful Thanksgiving in Ohio. I'm sure I'll get toasted in my blog off with Liz, but, as far as I'm concerned, there really isn't anything more to say.

over the river...

Cloudy. 20 turkeys feasting in a corn field in Proctor. Deer hunting season has begun. Trucks parked along the roads. Christmas wreaths and road salt for sale in the markets. Getting the wood rack out of the attic along with some suitcases as we go over the river, and through the woods (sort of) to grandmother's house for Thanksgiving.

"Beaver" moon

Stopping by the store on the way home Friday night, ringing of the Salvation Army bell. Clementines and Golden Egg Nog on sale inside. When I went out to empty the ash from the wood stove, the moon was shining brightly. I looked around to get my celestial bearings, and was shocked to see that the sky was almost devoid of stars. I stopped and did a reasonably thorough inventory. I counted eight stars. I never realized the degree to which starlight is washed out by a full moon. The full moon, the "Beaver" moon, is tonight

bonsai tamaracks

Sunny. Calendar kiosk opens up at the mall. Snowmobile on a trailer on South Main Street. Asparagus yellowing in the back. I realized the other day that they are almost like a bonsai version of the tamaracks. They have roughly the same kind of branches, and, at this time of year, they are the same color.

shiny

Cloudy. This is a time of year when water in ponds and streams takes on a darker appearance. Because of the brown colors nearby, it appears warm, dark, shiny, and metallic. It reminds me of the color of a wood stove.

mowed under

Rainy. Last of the brush hogging was done yesterday. The tractor is gone from the lower field. Thanksgiving decorations appear at work. Cranberries, chestnuts, and tangerines arrive in the markets. Vermont Wildflower Farm is closed for the season. The fields have been mowed under

planting season

Cloudy. Noticing many bushes in Vermont with bright red berries. You usually think of planting season as being in the spring, but it is certainly the middle of planting season when it comes to trees and bushes. Noticing hundreds of acorns when putting up the no hunting signs the other day along with signs of activity from turkeys and squirrels.

bluebirds

Cloudy. Flu shot season is upon us. Summer farmer's market is closed, but the winter market is open. Pickup truck full of evergreen branches in Pittsford... maybe the makings of some Christmas wreaths. Saturday morning I saw three bluebirds, two males and a female checking out my bluebird houses along the back fence. Who'd a thunk it, November 13th brings a sign of spring.

tamaracks

Sunny. Crystal clear night again last night. Bagged #'s 1 29, 35, 36, 37, 38, and 56 in the Messier Catalogue with the help of my neighbor, Pete. Got my first look at the Orion Nebula since last spring; like the return of an old friend. Tamaracks & willows are turning. With the passing of daylight savings time, the lights along the walkway are now coming on about 4:00. Sound of scraping ice off the windshield in the morning.
Falling mist flies together with the
wild ducks;
the waters of autumn are of one color
with the sky.
Zen page a day calendar

milky way

Sunny. Was out stargazing last night. All summer long the Milky Way has been prominent in the night sky, running north and south. I was shocked to discover when I went out last night that it is now running east and west. I am often able to do the requisite celestial calculations to understand the relation of the Earth to the moon, planets, constellations, and the like. Wasn't able to do that in this case. It is such an amazing feeling, at my advanced age, to observe new characteristics about phenomena that I've known about my whole life.

portal

Cloudy. At this time of year, you can see small trees with a single large leaf left on the branches. Sometimes it can actually seem less like a leaf, and more like a magic golden portal into a heavenly realm; something like Alice's looking glass, the wardrobe in the Chronicles of Narnia, the path by which happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow. If only I could find my way through that leaf, that portal...I only have the courage to mention this because my slightly addled Dharma sister, Kathy, has had the same vision.

blackbird

11/6/09

Cloudy. At this time of year, you see large flocks of blackbirds gathering (or starlings, or grackles), hundreds of them. The size of the flocks is a little unsettling, almost like nature is out of balance. I have seen flocks descend on the trees in the back woods. It is almost like a plague of locusts. I was reading about them in my Peterson's field guide, and it said, "the song sounds like the creak of a rusty door hinge, penetrating."
The other day I went into a convenience store near Brandon, and there was a large flock screeching from the trees across the road. When I came out, one of the blackbirds was in the parking lot, picking at crumbs of bread. It's feathery coat was a lustrous jet black. It glistened in the sun as it moved about. It was so sleek and aerodynamic. It was beautiful.
This is a lesson I keep having to relearn. Just because something is common doesn't mean it isn't beautiful. Goldenrod, blackbirds, snowflakes, can, at the same time, be ordinary...and miraculous. Many years ago I found a young starling which had dental floss hopelessly wrapped around and cutting into its leg. I ended up taking it to the Rutland Veterinary Clinic. My neighbor, Louella Day, a native Vermonter, was on duty. She took a look at it, and said, "Well, it's just a starling, but let's see if we can take care of it." and she did. She had the right idea.
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Paul McCartney

storm

Ice storm. Slippery on the sidewalk. People pulling their windshield wipers away from the windshield so they won't stick. Sound of the ice pellets softly tapping on the leaves and windows. Sound of the wind roaring through the trees, stop lights angled to the south by the north wind. Flapping of the tarp on the wood pile. Silvery sheen of ice on the lawn and the pines. People tell me it's an ugly day out there.

tiny jewels

Rainy. Pine needles on the carpet at work. Pine trees shed their needles in the fall just like the deciduous trees. Turning on the car lights now when going to work and coming home. Most of the leaves on the intensely red burning bush over by production are now gone. The ones that remain look like a string of diamond shaped rubies hanging from the branches. Hundreds of bright red berries also resemble tiny jewels.

Sixty-six times these eyes behold the changing
scenes of Autumn.
I have said enough about moonlight,
ask me no more.
Only listen to the voice of pines and cedars,
when no wind stirs.
Ryonen
Zen page a day calendar

bare branches

Cloudy. With the leaves off the trees, and the corn fields reduced to stubble, the vistas of Vermont open up in a new way. The nests of squirrels and birds become visible in the trees. The dark branches of the maples have a beseeching quality as they reach high into the gray November sky.

I watched the trees gradually withdraw, waving their despairing arms, seeming to say to me: "What you fail to learn from us today, you will never know. If you allow us to drop back into the hollow of this road from which we sought to raise ourselves up to you, a whole part of yourself which we were bringing to you will fall forever into the abyss."
Marcel Proust
Zen page a day calendar

rectangles within rectangles

Sunny. 25 degrees this morning. Crystalline patterns of hoarfrost on the car windows. Moved the scraper from the trunk to the front seat. Haven't done any actual scraping yet. Went out in the dark to get the paper this morning for the election results. Golden light shining through the windows of our home, rectangles within rectangles. Wood smoke pouring out of the chimney

finally

Cloudy. Dusting of snow on the Green Mountains. Snow squall viewed over by the Adirondacks the other day. Winter clothes out of the attic, flannel sheets on the bed, and yet...
The baseball season is over, but it will never be over for some of us. The San Francisco Giants are the world champions. Mom, they finally did it.

all the leaves are brown & the sky is gray...

Cloudy & cooler. Smell of snow in the air as well as actual flakes. Mini ice balls falling from the sky the other day, softly scratching the dried leaves that remain on the trees. Steel gray has returned to the skies as the default color. Carving the jack-o-lantern Sunday evening. Finished the job just as darkness fell on Halloween.

viewed from a distance

Cloudy. The Green Mountains are breathtaking now as they have turned the color of an Indian Head penny, a lustrous bronze. It must be the color of the oaks viewed from a distance. Over in the Taconics, setting sun accentuating the bright yellows of the aspens near West Rutland. Migration of the Canada Geese is in full swing. Saw a flock of at least 50 high in the sky over Ira the other day. They made a very distant visual impression with the movement of their wings against a bright blue sky; almost like observing paramecium in a petri dish as viewed through a microscope. Four ducks silently highballing through the same air space along the Ira Creek, at a much lower elevation.

twilight commute

Sunny. This is the time of year when the length of the day aligns with my work commute. The sun is rising when I go in, and it is setting when I come home. It is an opportunity to observe some beautiful sunrises & sunsets. Today's sunrise was very unusual. The dark grey clouds were painted along the bottom with light tan highlights, the color of the dried corn stalks fast disappearing from neighboring fields.
It is interesting to see that large flocks of crows are also commuting with the rising and setting of the sun. I see them when I am coming to work. They are heading west from the woodlands towards the swamps, and low lying corn fields along the Otter Creek. When I am leaving work, they are doing the same; cawing their way home to the pine forests west of the Green Mountains.

Indian Summer

It was sunny and in the 70's yesterday, Indian Summer. Temps in the 60's this morning. The 2nd wave of foliage season is ongoing with the oaks, birch, aspen, and beeches turning. Snack bar on Cold River Road has closed for the season. Smell of dried maple leaves when walking over to production. It's like nutmeg.

Christmas balls

Cloudy. Vines of October & November appearing. Fuzzy white puff balls dispersed all along them. Small pumpkins decorate the old foundation at the bottom of Chapman Hill. Apples yellowing on the trees in the back field. They start to remind me of shiny Christmas balls.

fall to winter to fall

Cloudy. Spent the weekend in Lake Placid, New York. It is winter there! Glad to get back to fall in Vermont. Starting up the wood stove, and consquently bringing the wood stove utensils down from the attic. Chap stick season has started. Sounds of gunfire in the woods. Juncos gathering on the lawns at home and work as they ready for their migration.

good bye

Cloudy. Windbreaker weather. Snowflake sighting on the drive to work this morning. About a week ago, I was heading up into the back field when I spotted some Nodding Ladies Tresses, one of the last wildflowers of the year. I was finally able to check it off my wildflowers of Vermont life list. Later that night I was able to bag four of the members of the Messier catalogue through my telescope near the constellation Sagittarius (astronomical nerd speak). Wildflowers and summer constellations will be disappearing soon, replaced by the night sky of winter, and dark pines. The full moon, the "Hunter's" moon, is tonight.

The bright moon
on the tatami:
the shadow of the pine tree.
Kikaku
Zen page a day calendar

heading home

Cloudy. People raking up leaves in their yards. Leaves on the tops of the maples are gone, but still remain on the bottom. Sometimes those leaves are actually the most colorful. Woods Market in Brandon is closed for the season. Ducks flying over the marsh in West Rutland. I remember seeing them flying along in their silent turbocharged way early in the spring, maybe in March. Perhaps they are getting ready to migrate in the other direction to their winter homes. Speaking of migrating home, welcome home, Bill.

browns

28 degrees and sunny. The Green Mountains have turned into something else. The brown hues are becoming more prominant. There are many of them, yellow, orange, and red; very pale browns and beige colors like you see in the corn stalks drying in the fields. There are more conventional shades of brown like one finds in some of the oak leaves, and the barks of trees; now revealed as the leaves have fallen away. There are the cooler colors like the greys. They can be observed in some of the dessicated remains of the goldenrod along the roads. The deer seem to mimic many of these muted colors as their coats thicken up for winter.

elevation

Sunny. Warming up the car in the morning to clear away the frost. Haven't brought out the scrapers yet. Wearing long sleeved shirts to work now. Snow at the tops of the Green Mountains & Adirondacks. Tiger Swallowtails and woolly caterpillers crossing Rte, 133. Different stages of development and elevation.

leaves reprise

Cloudy. As I mentioned last week, leaves take on a life of their own at this time of year. I was driving into town the other day in my truck. The dry leaves that accumulated in the back would pop up and down in the rear view mirror as they cycled through the circular currents caused by the cab and the bed of the truck. It was like they were jumping up from the back of the truck to check out the fall foliage. Sheen of frost on the grass in Middlebury

vines

Rainy. Ruffed grouse seen peeking through some underbrush along Quality Lane. Fallen leaves encircle the maples like large golden throw rugs. Season of vines. Vines are seen overhanging trees, and climbing along fences & guy wires. The leaves of the vines sometimes remain on the trees after the actual tree leaves are gone.

smoke

Sunny. Smoke from a chimney from a house in Pittsford last evening. This is actually a very late observation. Usually I start seeing signs of fires from wood stoves sometime in late August. When I got home, there was the smell of smoke from a wood fire in the front yard. I went in and started a fire, first one of the year

thermals

Sunny. 27 degrees this morning, and a hard frost. Good bye to the basil. Clear plastic covering over gardens in Ferrisberg. Hang gliders riding the thermals over the Taconics the other day. First time I've seen them all year. Mushrooms sprouting from the lawn at work after a recent rain.

long sleeved shirts

Cloudy. Wedding in Chicago. It was warm and sunny every day we were there. Andy says it is always like that. Wearing long sleeved shirts to work. Primary campaign signs transition into signs for the general election. Halloweeen decorations appear in W. Rutland.

The hermit doesn't sleep
at night:
In love with the blue of
the vacant moon.
The cool of the breeze
that rustles the trees
rustles him, too.
Ching An
Zen Page a Day Calendar

leaves

Season of leaves.

10/7/09

Cloudy. At this time of year, it's possible to see leaves in a different way. I usually think that the natural state for leaves is for them to be attached to a tree. But now that seems as sensible as saying the natural state for a horse is for it to be tethered to a hitching post. It seems that leaves only reveal themselves, show their "leafiness" when they are finally liberated from their moorings on the ends of branches. On a windy day, it gladdens the heart to watch them chase each other down the road. They seem to be in such a hurry to get to wherever it is they think they're going. It is uplifting to drive under a cloud of leaves released by the wind from tall trees. They resemble a swarm of butterflies heading south for the winter. On a calm New England morning, when the time is right, they just calmly melt off the trees, and drop softly to the ground, like hot wax dripping off a candle. Some of the leaves even seem to have figured out that they would be better off indoors, out of the cold and damp. They congregate outside our front door at home, waiting to get in. Quite a number of them make it inside. One can find them happily ensconced on the door mat in the kitchen at home, and in hallways and offices at work.

cemetery

Cloudy. Amur maples starting to turn in Charlotte. They are intensely red. Orion appearing in the morning sky. Saw a maple being turned into firewood at a house in Shelburne, cut but not yet split. The logs were on their sides, scattered on the lawn. They looked like circular tombstones in an arboreal cemetery.

auburn

Late today. Rainy. Three giant pumpkins on a cart outside Glenn Story's house in Shelburne. They weigh hundreds of pounds each. The beautiful sunflowers of just a few weeks ago are now black and brown. They actually look charred, like a wildfire went through the field. Signs for the Haunted House in Pittsford are now on display. Noticing the cattail leaves. They are huge. Some are orange, some are brown which makes for a beautiful auburn appearance. Reminds me of the hair of two of my favorite people, cousins John Kahle and Emily Brown.

geese

Cloudy. When up in the mountains, noticing the contrast between the oranges, reds, & yellows of the deciduous trees in contrast with the dark greens of the pines. Makes for a beautiful scene. Pods of the cattails are opening. Canada geese seen foraging in a field in Proctor, and flying overhead in Shelburne. Their cries bespeak wildness and freedom, so stirring.

Autumn quietness:
a chestnut leaf sinks
through clear water.

Shokaku
Zen page a day calendar

pennant!

Cloudy. Scarecrows, dried corn & pumpkin decorations on front lawns. Leaves seem to be turning earlier than usual. Probably due to the drier than normal summer. Apple picking observed at Mendon Mtn. Orchards along with the sale of apple cider. Baseball season comes to a close, but not for the Giants. The Giants win the pennant! Summer lives!

drenching

Happy binary number day! Drenching rains. It's another world. Patter on the roof. Splashing through puddles to get to the car. Cascades gushing off the roof at work, like a waterfall. Rivers of water in the streets. Silvery drops gleam from the pine needles on the tree outside my window. Hard to believe it's the day after yesterday.

rattle

Cloudy. Northern flickers gathering on the lawn at work. Allyn has put the flower vases back in the cupboard. Leaves rattle in the maple trees when blown by the wind. Same leaves, same wind as in June, totally different sound.

This body's existence is like a bubble's.
May as well accept what happens.
Events and hopes seldom agree,
but who can step back, doesn't worry?
We blossom and fade like flowers.
Gather and part like clouds.
Worldly thoughts I forgot long ago,
relaxing all day on a peak.

Han-Shan
Zen page a day calendar

shiny golden coins

Cloudy. Moon shadows, rooster crowing, ring around the moon, and the constellation Orion appearing on the morning walk. Campers & boats on trailers replaced by tour buses & heating oil trucks. Orange pine needles on the walkway at work. Birch leaves on another path, like shiny golden coins.

jerusalem artichoke

Cloudy. Driving to work in the morning, windows closed, and the heat is on. Milkweed seed pods opening in Proctor. Jerusalem Artichoke, over 7 feet tall and brightly yellow demanding my attention alongside the Clarendon River. People discussing heating oil prices in the cafeteria at work. I thought about my wood pile.
Morning, sickle in hand,
Noon, roaming the forest,
Gathering and binding wood.
Now the evening moon,
Quietly shedding her light
On my path.

Setcho's commentary on the way of Nansen
Zen page a day calendar

tourists

Cloudy. This is the time of year when Vermont starts to resemble a theme park, at least in the minds of some tourists. You see them scrambling around corn fields, beautiful vistas, steepled churches, and the like; digital cameras in hand. It's quite common to see cars parked carelessly on busy roads. Recently I saw a tourist leave his parked car with the driver side door wide open. This was on Route 7, one of the busiest roads in the state. God bless us.
Tourists taking pictures of a covered bridge in Ferrisberg. Pumpkins in a field in Pittsford, hundreds of them.

maples are turning

The maples are turning.

9/22/09
Cloudy. Maples are turning. There is a Christmas like quality this time of year as the fall colors begin to unwrap themselves. Some years the colors are vivid and bright, some years they are muted. As far as I know, nobody has ever been able to predict whether it's going to be a good year, or a bad year before it actually happens. It is a mystery.
There is a maple along Route 7 in Salisbury that is quite ordinary in almost every way. It lives in a little depression along the road. It is about 20 feet tall, and actually a little ragged in appearance. I notice it every year because its colors are always a deep, vibrant scarlet, and it's usually one of the first trees to turn. Somehow there is something very comforting in this, almost like the return of Orion to the night skies in autumn.

birds

Cloudy. Transitions in the avian world along with everything else this time of year. Ravens reappearing in large numbers on the lawn out front at work after being relatively inconspicuous for months. Don't really know what that's about. Maybe the smaller birds harass them when they're around during the summer. Blackbirds gathering in large numbers along the bypass, and spotted feasting in a corn field in Clarendon.

harvest moon

Cloudy. Autumnal equinox. Full moon, the "Harvest Moon" is tonight, Jupiter blazing alongside as they are both directly opposite the sun as viewed from Earth. Leaves drop quietly from the trees like beads of water after a soft rain.

mist

Cloudy. Pumpkins, apples & mums for sale at stands along Rte. 7. My interest in astronomy has led to a greater awareness of impending weather conditions. The other day, we had a heavy afternoon rain followed by clearing, cooler weather. Even though the sky was clear, I didn't plan on using the telescope, it would be too foggy. Sure enough, the mist rolled in and obscured what would, otherwise, have been a clear night sky.

frost

Sunny. 32 degrees this morning, frost on the car windshield. The field I drive by periodically on Cold River Road is a profusion of goldenrod this time of year. In the early spring, we live in a world of brown that, day by day, adds little touches of green. The opposite is the case right now. It is still green here, but every day more brown appears; cattails, and other kinds of brush.

morning glory

Sunny. Crystal clear morning. Golden sunflowers reach for the sky in all their glory in West Rutland. Burning bush starting to turn its usual shade of bright red over by production. Corn fields cut in Vergennes, only the stubble remains.

Indiana

Cloudy. Berries turning red on the asparagus plants in the back. No sign of the beetles that usually inhabit them in late summer. Dragonflies gathering in the back as they prepare for their September migration. Coming over the bypass this morning, the Green Mountains were totally engulfed in clouds. Makes it look like I'm driving through Indiana, not Vermont.

colder

Cloudy. Temps in the 30's (1st morning temperature report in awhile). Allyn wore her ski hat on the morning walk (full disclosure, I didn't go). All of my wood for winter is stacked & ready to go. It's a good feeling.

These are the thoughts of men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me,
If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next to nothing.
If they do not enclose everything they are next to nothing.
If they are not the riddle, and the untying of the riddle they are nothing.
If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing.

Walt Whitman
Zen Page a Day Calendar

cucumbers & flu shots

Cloudy. Cucumbers now showing up in a plastic bag in the cafeteria at work. Sound of dried leaves scraping against concrete in the road. Field hockey game at Rutland High School. Signs for flu shots in store front windows.

Refusing wordly worries,
I walk among village strollers.

Pine winds sing, the evening village
smells of grass, autumn in the air.

A lone bird roams down the sky.
Clouds roll across the river.

You want to know my name?
-a hill, a tree. An empty drifting boat.

Hsu Hsuan

champagne

Cloudy. Saturday was one of those days of clarity and sparkle, like champagne. Leaves just melting off the trees in the absence of wind. Looks like the corn guy has called it a season in West Rutland. Trees showing a lighter shade of green as chlorophyll descends to the tree roots for the cold season.

disappearances

Cloudy & cooler. Closing the windows in the house, and putting on warmer clothing in the evening. Great Blue Heron cruising the Ira creek. Fox calling its pups in the woods in the back.
As opposed to the spring when changes often take the form of appearances. Fall is a time of disappearances. The deer flies have pestered me all summer long when walking over to production. I noticed the other day that they are gone.

wood time

It's hard to put into words the feeling of cutting up wood for winter heat. It's hard work, but it's satisfying. You are out in the fresh air, and putting some of your assets to good use. You're saving yourself a pretty good chunk of money, but it's more than that.
Say there are five months of the year that require heat. That's about 3,600 hours, 216,000 minutes. We burn roughly 15 pieces of wood a day during the cold season. That means we need about 2,250 pieces to get us through. These calculations, believe it or not, are usually in the back of your mind when you are out cutting. You feel like you are somehow accounting for future warmth every time you saw off a log; here's 15 minutes, there's an hour's worth. Driving down from the woodlot with a truck full of maple, the thought goes through your head; how much did I get this time, a week's worth maybe? I've never felt the tangible presence of time as much as I do when sawing up wood for winter.
My friend Dharman, who's now a Zen priest, used to cut his own wood. He said there are many activities in life where the goal or purpose is uncertain. When he was cutting up his wood supply, however, there was never any doubt about why he was doing it.

magnolia

Rainy. State fair has started in Rutland. Wrecked cars from the demolition derby on trailers, heading to the junk yard. Boats on trailers, heading away from the lakes, and back into town. Magnolia in the neighbor's yard is in bloom. It has very large flowers, pink and white. It blooms in the spring and fall. It's the only tree I know of which does that.

nothing

A beautiful Labor Day weekend.

9/3/09
Another beautiful sunny day. Two deer eating apples under a tree in Proctor. Red maple leaf caught in barb wire in the fence in the back.

That thou mayest have pleasure in everything,
seek pleasure in nothing.
That thou mayest know everything,
seek to know nothing.
That thou mayest possess all things,
seek to possess nothing.
That thou mayest be everything,
seek to be nothing.

St. John of the Cross

spin

Sunny & hot. Red sky at morning. There is going to be a stargazing event at the Zen Center, and I was asked to find an appropriate photo for the announcement. Found a great picture of the Andromeda Galaxy. Later that same day, I saw an online picture of Hurricane Earl. They looked the same. The same whirling energy, the same arms radiating outward. What's up with that?


Time is but the stream I go a-fishin in. I drink at it; but while I drink, I see the sandy bottom, and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.

Henry David Thoreau

tomatoes

Sunny & hot. Bowl of tomatoes available in the cafeteria at work. Flocks of pigeons working the fields of sunflowers. Gunfire in the woods. Children with backpacks walking to school in W. Rutland.

hot

Sunny and hot, highs in the 90's again today. And yet...Allyn hauls out the flashlight for the morning walk. Squirrel eating a nut right in the middle of Curtis Ave. Round hay bales in a field in Proctor.

parking lot

Sunny. We have had a spate of warm, dry weather, great for astronomy. When Erin was here, we went out stargazing over at Pete's house one night. We got some great views of clusters, and nebulae to the south. I was hoping we'd get a look at the Andromeda Galaxy which is currently situated in the northeast. I couldn't find it, mostly because Rutland is also to the northeast, and the light pollution obscured it. Pete said the light from Rutland is much worse than when he first came here. Honestly, I didn't notice it until I started with the astronomy myself. He said it's mostly due to the new intensely bright flourescent lights now being used in industrial parks, and parking lots.

vista

Temps in the 80's, but still out sawing up wood for winter this afternoon. I am way back in the woods this year at a patch cut that was done last fall. Make quite a racket, but when I stop, it is amazingly quiet. The only sound comes from squirrels, methodically gnawing on nuts, somewhere in the forest. This is what I see when I'm wiping the sweat off my forehead.

grandfather clock

Sunny. Bright moon and silvery clouds on the drive home from the Zen Center last night. Jupiter was shining brilliantly almost directly below the moon. The pair looked like a celestial grandfather clock with the moon being the face, and Jupiter the bottom of the pendulum.

orange hawkweed

Cloudy. School buses spotted in W. Rutland. The whole summer season can be marked by the transition of the wildflowers. They appear. They flower for a couple of weeks. They're gone. May, June, July, August...Bloodroot, Ladie's Slipper, Spreading Dogbane, Cardinal Flower...turn, turn, turn. There is one wildflower that runs against the grain. It is the Orange Hawkweed, sometimes known as Indian Paintbrush. These bright orange wildflowers are among the first to appear in May. It was the first wildflower that caught my eye when Allyn & I lived here in the '70s. The other day I was heading to production, and there were three plants of Orange Hawkweed, still producing robust and colorful flowers.
Somehow they remind me of the goldfinches and chickadees which hang around all year long when so many of the birds come and go. These birds appear to have a zest for life that is totally unaffected by the dark days of late fall and winter. It is inspiring to have these examples of joyful fortitude and endurance to witness in the natural world.

falling apples

Cloudy. Primary election night in Vermont. First day of school for Allyn. Red apples falling on the roadside on Chapman's Hill. Ghostly white undersides of the silver maple appearing when blown by the wind.

Sturgeon Moon

Cloudy. Grasshoppers on the walkway at work. Purple & yellow of the New England Asters appearing. Full moon, the "Sturgeon Moon", tonight.

cardinal flower

Cloudy & cool. Spend Sunday in Ct. with Ellen & Russ. We took a hike, and saw some Cardinal Flowers! What a treat. Trucks carrying rides & refreshment stands traveling Rte. 7 from fair to fair. Football practice at Rutland High School. Orange maple leaves on the lawn.

passing

Sunny. Badminton net up in Kathleen White's back yard. Wood for winter is stacked in Pete's back yard next door. Small vegetable stands along Rte. 7. Campaign posters on lawns. The sunflowers are starting to droop in the field in Brandon as they do every year at this time. It's almost like they acknowledge, and are resigned to the passing away of summer.

bzzzzz

Glorious morning. Milkweed yellowing, Jerusalem Artichoke soaring, ragweed proliferating. Boneset, Jewelweed, Knapweed, Pearly Everlasting, Common Evening Primrose, Northern Willow Herb observed. Some of these can be seen in Montana. Allyn's herb garden is overflowing with basil, parsley, sage, and bright red geraniums. Picking some parsley for dinner the other night, sound of a bumblebee.

star guy

Cloudy. Checked out the Perseid meteor shower on Friday night. Saw some nice ones. Went to the dentist yesterday, and the dental assistant asked me if I'd seen any meteors.
I said, "I'm kind of an amateur astronomer. Don't get me started."
She said,"That's what I heard. When you came in, one of my co-workers pointed you out, and said you were the star guy."
Nobody has ever called me the star guy before.

vine

Sunny. There is a vine that is very prolific at this time of year. It sends out spikes of white flowers at the tops of the bushes it inhabits. It looks like bushes all over Vermont are adorned with pearly white tiaras. I don't know the name of this vine. Kate Carter, the lady who wrote Wildflowers of Vermont, also has a book on the flowering vines of Vermont. I'm not buying that book. I have enough obsessions.

drama

Cloudy. Scarlet Tananger on Black Mountain in Dummerston. PG Hydrangias in bloom. Sound of crickets in the kitchen. Two young teenage girls in flip flops, heads down, walking down a dusty road on a hot evening; seemingly oblivious to everything around them except the drama of their own lives.

bowl of blackberries

Sunny. The other day I went out in the back to pick a bowl of blackberries for a friend. After a few minutes, I looked into the bowl at the berries. I was astonished. The berries shone so brightly in their blackness. They were so intelligently designed, so elegantly arrayed, so simple and utterly miraculous. I fleetingly had the feeling that the answers to all of life's mysteries lay in that bowl of blackberries if I could only find the proper translation. The last time I had that feeling was just about a year ago looking at the stars over Upper Two Medicine Lake in Montana.
Erin asked me about a song I was singing along with when we were together last weekend. I found myself singing that song again when I was picking those blackberries.
...Then higher still
Beyond the blue until
I know I can
Like any man
Reach out my hand
And touch the face of God.

Mornin'
Al Jarreau

steamy

Cloudy. After Martha's Vineyard, noticing the "high season" in rural Vermont. Tents in the neighbor's back yard, picnic tables on the lawn, slides that empty into ponds. Yesterday was a steamy one. Every time I went into the men's room at work my hair looked frizzier than the time before. By the end of the day I looked like Harpo Marx.
Oblivious
to the gaze of the thief:
Melons in cool shade.
Issa
Zen page a day calendar

dragonflies

Cloudy. Noticing dragonflies in the back yard last night. Initially I thought they might be gathering for their annual flight south, but it's too early for that. The migration takes place in September. I went outside to watch. There must have been 50 dragonflies zooming around the back yard, and back field. I noticed that there were small insects rising out of the lawn, and into the sky. The dragonflies were feasting on them. It was very similar to the hatch that occurs in a stream or lake. The nymphs rise from the bottom, and transform themselves into mayflies. The trout go into a feeding frenzy that sometimes makes the water look like it is boiling. This is the first time I've ever observed this phenomenon with dragonflies.

chime

Cloudy. Back from a long weekend on Martha's Vineyard. There is nowhere I know that epitomizes summer like that place. The Crowley's cabin is full of quirky bedrooms, porches, and screened doors. It's the only place I've ever been in my life where I've heard the ring of wind chimes located INSIDE the house.

obsession

Went out to look at the most beautiful wildflower in Vermont last night, the Cardinal Flower, out in its usual haunts in the West Rutland swamp. I was talking to Erin about my "interest" in wildflowers. I said I didn't think obsession was the right word. She said, "Oh, I think it is." Anyway, having an ongoing interest in a facet of the natural world allows for the seeing of things that might otherwise be missed. As Hericlitus said, "Nature loves to hide."
It is comforting to be able to return to the same places at the same time of year, and see the same wildflowers as before. There have been a couple of times this year, however, when that didn't happen as planned. I was walking by the railroad tracks on the way to the Mall the other day. I looked for the Canada Lily I had seen there roughly a year ago, but it wasn't there. I remember all of the Enchanter's Nightshade I had seen out front last year. Now it's nowhere to be found. Why is that? Do they bloom every other year? Seems unlikely. What are the factors that led to the disappearances?
There are a few "hot spots" I visit every few weeks. It's interesting to see colonies of one type of flower replaced by colonies of another flower in basically the same place. It reminds me of the gates at a busy airport which are used by a number of airplanes at various times of the day. That way, it seems, mother nature is able to promote the greatest diversity of flora in the exact same space. It always pays to share.

explosion

Cloudy. Walking by the bird feeder over by production the other day, lost in thought. Explosion of bird seed in front of me on the walkway as the squirrels and/or blue jays quickly depart.

cherry cola

Cloudy. Lots of campers & trailers with out of state plates on Rte. 7 in Rutland. It's vacation season. Erin is arriving today! Unloading the paper & black birch in the back yard. The latter smells like cherry cola which is my soda of choice at this time of year. Apparently the yellow jackets like it, too as they buzz around the wood pile.

apples

Cloudy. Apples maturing on the trees at home. Crabapples very sparse on the tree at work. I remember the killing freeze in May. High school students running early in the mornings. Getting ready for fall sports. Starting to cut up wood for winter, and pile it on the lawn in the back.

thistles

A sunny weekend. Queen Anne's Lace, Teasel, Joe Pye Weed, and Touch Me Nots appearing along the roadsides. The wildflower Tear Thumb discovered about 50 yards from the house, jeez. Ads for the Vermont State Fair appearing. Thistles ripening, and so the goldfinches and butterflies which feed on them are more prominent.

knee high by the 4th of July

Sunny. Noticing on the drive home last night that the corn in some places is really high this year, over 7 feet in some places. The old saying "knee high by the Fourth of July" is usually pretty much of a joke in these parts. If the corn is a foot tall by the 4th, that's pretty much par for the course. I noticed this year that the corn actually was knee high by the 4th. Maybe growth patterns in Vermont resemble the midwest because climatically we are starting to resemble the midwest. Another global warming update it seems.

flowers fall

Sunny. Soaking rain last night. This morning, golden mist in the valley as the sun shines through. Hummingbirds in the Foxglove. Blueberries ripening at the Zen Center. Sound of crickets & grasshoppers in the fields.

Wind subsiding, the flowers
still fall.
Bird crying, the mountain
silence deepens.

Zen page a day calendar

green snow

Sunny. Was driving behind a farm truck that was hauling silage the other day. As is almost always the case, some of it was spilling out the back. The little pieces swirled and danced in the air as they were buffeted about by the currents of wind. They acted almost exactly like snowflakes except that they were a light shade of green. . When they settled to the ground behind the truck, they formed a long line, that seemed to slither around, almost like a boa constrictor. Again this seemed to be due to wind currents, and resembled the behavior of snow in the road on a windy day. A little slice of January in the middle of July.

dew

Sunny. Season of dew. My sneakers get wet when picking blackberries for morning cereal. Pete Favreau's wood pile keeps growing in his back yard. Large abandoned tractor tire along Cold River Road; aspen tree growing up in the middle of it.

transition

Sunny & 48 degrees this morning. Changes as high summer transitions to late summer. Bright yellow of the ragweed appears along with the red conical seed pods of the sumac trees. Golden sunflowers blooming in Brandon. Hydrangias in bloom in Middlebury. Found some blackberries while cutting up the tree that fell last week. They were perfectly ripe, tangy/sweet.

When worn out
and seeking an inn:
Wisteria flowers!

Basho
Zen Page a Day calendar

looking & seeing

Had a couple of incidents similar to my recent discovery of Sheep Sorrel 50 feet from the house. Two of the newly found wildflowers this year are Whorled Loosestrife and Bouncing Bet. I discovered the Loosestrife earlier in the summer, and the Bouncing Bet last week in Pittsford. In the last week, I have seen that wildflower in, oh, about 100 different places. The other day I saw a patch just down the road from here. I found some Loosestrife where Kahle Road meets Rte. 133, about 100 yards from where I sit here at the kitchen table.
It's common when viewing the natural world that when you finally see something, it seems to be everywhere. I just don't understand how there could be these flowers that I've been actively searching for over the past two years without seeing them, particularly when they now appear to be ubiquitous. Where have I been the last two years? I just don't understand.
There are a number of lessons that keep recurring here on the other side of the creek. One of them is that there is a wide gulf between looking and seeing. I wish it just pertained to the physical world, but I get the sinking feeling sometimes that the answers to "life's persistent questions" (to steal a phrase from Garrison Keillor) are hiding in plain sight. They are everywhere, just like the Bouncing Bet. What is it I need to do to go from looking mode to seeing mode? That, in itself, is one of life's persistent questions.

storm & stars

Sunny & cooler. We had some severe thunderstorms last night, gray clouds scudding across the skies at warp speed. The storm had barely started when a large tree fell across our driveway. When the rain subsided, I went out to saw it up, and carelessly got my saw bound up in a tree branch. Just about that time, my neighbor from the other side of the creek showed up. I asked him if he had a chain saw to help me out of my "bind." He went home, got his saw, and helped me dismantle the tree. Later that night, as I was out surveying the arboreal carnage, another neighbor showed up with his son to see if we needed any help. Apparently the Dufners had also called to check on us. Either I am the town incompetent, or we live in a place where neighbors look out for each other.
The power had gone out during the storm so when I woke up during the night, I got up to turn off the lights still burning. A light was on in the garage so I went out to turn it off. The waxing moon had set, and the sky was very clear. The Pleiades was rising in the east. It was the first time I had seen it in months. Even though I hadn't yet put on my glasses, I recognized it. Walking out to the garage, I saw a satellite arcing from south to north directly overhead. A couple of shooting stars flashed across the sky. Looking to the south, there was something very bright hiding behind the trees. I walked further out into the yard to get a better look. It was the planet Jupiter. It was so bright it didn't even look real. I was reminded of the night last year when we went camping at Upper Two Medicine Lake in Glacier National Park, when Venus was so bright that it was visible through the walls of the tent. I turned off the light in the garage, went back to bed, and slept soundly 'til morning.

hint

As mentioned the other day, Saturday was so hot, I turned on the AC in my Honda. Went out for a walk on Sunday. It was cooler, but not appreciably so. There is a day, however, in the middle of summer, when you get the first intimation of the approach of fall & winter. I couldn't even tell you what it is. Sunday was that day. The reverse happens in the winter, sometime in January

January 24, 2008

Snow falling off pine trees on to the sidewalk at work. Looked like powdered sugar on a chocolate cake. Last night, silhouette of deer crossing Rte. 7 in Wallingford. There is a day in the middle of summer when you feel the approach of winter for the first time. Apparently the opposite is true as well. Today, in the middle of winter, I felt the approach of spring. Light snow today, but I didn't see any "spinners" like I did the other day.

blackberries

Sunny. Sweet corn for sale from the farmer in his usual place in W. Rutland. Road crews in full force along Rte. 7. Construction ongoing at the public schools. Blackberries are starting to ripen. That must mean that Erin is coming home soon. She always seems to show up in time to pick blackberries. She eats most of them.

hot

Cloudy. Saturday was a very hot day in a very hot summer. Child sticking its feet out the window from the back seat of a car. Ice being delivered to a convenience store in W. Rutland. Driving back from Burlington on Saturday, it was so hot that I turned on the air conditioning in my Honda. I've had the car for about 5 years, and I think it's the first time I've ever done that. Didn't even know it worked.

my blue heaven

Sunny. A couple of bats in the sky the last couple of nights, a very welcome sight. Solar Fest, billed as New England's premier renewable energy festival takes place on Marshall Squire's farm, the Forget Me Not farm in Tinmouth this weekend. The other day I was cutting down some brush along a small stream when all of a sudden my world became blue as I passed through a patch of the intensely blue Forget Me Nots.

simple

Sunny. Raspberry season; red stains on my shirts. Two killdeer scooting across a lawn in Clarendon. Smell of starter fluid for a barbeque. Neighbor splitting wood.

There's a stream, and there's bamboo,
there's mulberry and hemp.
Mist-hid, clouded hamlet,
a mild, tranquil place.
Just a few tilled acres.
Just a few tiled roofs.
How many lives would I
have to live, to get
that simple.

Yuan Wei
Zen Page a Day Calendar

W E Pierce

Rainy night, and a steamy morning. Had an occasion to go to Pierce's store in Shrewsbury the other day. It is a window into a Vermont that no longer exists. Had some great ginger cookies. I waited for the shop keeper to get me some from behind the glass counter, but she said to just go around the display, and help myself. They still have the old cash register there. It is the most beautiful and ornate register I have ever seen. Although W. E. Pierce is from another era, time marches on. You can find pictures and information about it online.

sheep sorrell

Rainy. I have been interested in Vermont wildflowers for over two years. I have been trying to see all the Vermont wildflowers, tracking them down, and checking them off, kind of like big game hunting for vegetarians. Awhile ago, I took a special overnight trip to Craftsbury, over 100 miles away, in search of some exotic wildflowers. After I got back, I was out mowing, and spotted something interesting in the asparagus patch. It was sheep sorrell, one that had eluded me all these years. It was all of 50 feet from the back door. Part of the problem I think was that I hadn't read the description carefully enough. I was looking for something 2-3 feet tall. It was more like 8-10 inches high.

mint

Sunny. Salt stuck in the salt shaker, my favorite sign of summer. Strawberries are gone, but sign for sweet corn appears at Wood's Market. I was cutting brush in a field, and walked through a wet area. I smelled the sweet, pungent odor of mint. I was immediately taken back to the time many years ago when we had a goat that we employed to keep the grass down around our house. The goat loved mint, and it was the height of incongruity to see this wild eyed animal with the sweetest smelling breath I ever encountered.

looking

This past weekend we visited the Chickering Bog, and the White Mountains. We spent a lot of time peering into small flowers, and looking out over large vistas from the tops of high mountains. I was reminded of a trip to Yosemite many years ago. It was at a family reunion, and one afternoon some of us took a hike. I remember walking on a dusty trail along a canyon wall high up in the mountains. We came to a place where a trickle of water was sprinkling itself down the wall. There was a bush opportunistically growing there, and there were tiny wildflowers in bloom. I remember looking into the center of the flowers. No matter how far I looked in, there seemed to be interesting & minuscule aspects of the flower that were just beyond the limits of my vision.

When I turned 180 degrees, I confronted the vastness of Yosemite from a high place on a clear day. You could see a long ways, but there were miles and miles of scenery that were way out of my range.


I spent quite awhile turning & turning; looking in as far as possible, and then out. It occurred to me that in the grand scheme of things, my size must be about halfway between the largest & the smallest things in our universe. Later on it seemed possible that if you were a sentient atom, or conscious galaxy, you might feel essentially the same way. No matter what your size, or how much you squint in, or peer out, you're going to bump into the limitations of your senses, and feel pretty much in the middle of things.

The largest is the smallest, too.
Here limitations have no place...

Affirming Faith in Mind.

glaciers?

Sunny & hot. It's been in the 90's all week. Walking in the early morning, a heron rises noiselessly out of the creek. A man & his two young sons, all shirtless & carrying fishing poles, walking through West Rutland. On a recent trip to the Barr Hill Preserve, saw some indentations in granite left behind by a glacier long ago. A small glacier or two would be welcome right about now.

squeak

Sunny & hot. Squeak of rubber soles on the damp tile floors at work. First meeting of the IRA (Ira Regional Astronomers) convened in the back pasture on Saturday night. Three charter members were present. Going out to the car the other morning, two young woodpeckers cackling & careening out of one tree to another. Their zaniness is refreshing & uplifting.

grasshoppers & ants

Sunny & hot, a very steamy Fourth of July weekend. Had all of the fans on in the house last night. A grasshoppers & ants weekend. Campers on the roads along with cars carrying bikes, kayaks, et. al. Town waterholes were full of swimmers; a fisherman on the White River. Fireworks, and yet...combine chugging along the road in Middlebury. Pickup truck full of firewood near Salisbury. Hay being baled in Mendon.

hiss

Sunny. Fourth of July weekend. Spiders in the bathtub. White's pool open for public swimming in Rutland. American Legion baseball has begun. St. John's Wort & Black Eyed Susan appear. I was out walking in a pasture the other day in the hills along the crossroads. Hiss of the wind through the tall grass...

Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise til noon, rapt in a reverie, amidst the pines and hickories and sumacs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house...I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been.
Henry David Thoreau

steel blue

Cloudy and cool. Today is about as different from yesterday as it could possibly be, but still beautiful. Steel blue color in the Adirondacks and the clouds right around them. Difficult to tell where the mountains leave off, and where the clouds start up. Three deer jumping a tall fence in West Rutland. Their grace and jumping ability is amazing to see, like they're full of helium.

what is so rare...

Glorious sunny day. Last day of June. Cows grazing contentedly in a field; swishing the flies away with their tails. Sun glistening off the leaves of corn. Two men playing horseshoes in Middlebury.

scorpius

Evenings at the Zen Center. Shadows of moths flickering in the light from low lights along the walkway. Flickering fireflies in abundance. The constellation Scorpius prominent in the southern sky

moon

Full moon, the strawberry moon, is tonight.

oriole

Sunny. American flags along Main Sts. in Rutland & Wallingford. Oriole in the old apple tree. Basil & parsley along the front walk. In the winter there is a time when it's so cold it seems it could never get warm again. The opposite also holds true, and that time is now.
Happy Birthday Mom.

it is the noon

Rainy. Day lilies & dragonflies. Driving to Bethel early in the morning to pick up some envelopes, 77 degrees at 6:00. Bright red tubes lined up for rafting at an outlet along the White River in Stockbridge. Three large beach towels drying on a fence near the Tweed River.
I am one
who eats his breakfast
gazing at the morning glories.
Basho
Zen Page a Day Calendar

lupines

Cloudy. Lupines are in bloom.

6/12/2008. "Sometimes in June, when I see unearned dividends of dew hung on every lupine, I have doubts about the real poverty of the sands. On solvent farmlands, lupines do not even grow, much less collect a daily rainbow of jewels. If they did, the weed control officer, who seldom sees a dewy dawn, would doubtless insist that they be cut. Do economists know about lupines?"

Aldo Leopold
A Sand County Almanac

mystery

Sunny. Heading to the car on a beautiful summer morning. Swallows careening through the skies. The call of the hermit thrush; as Doug Blodgett says, like the sound of someone playing a flute deep in the woods. What is the emotion one is feeling at moments like this?

Heads up. Erin has simplified the comments process so it's kind of like her blog. You can use the name, or anonymous categories if the spirit moves you.

solstice

Summer solstice. On hot summer days, things get cooler coming home from work as one goes into the hills and along the creek. Baby cardinals are out of the nest. Shade from summer clouds darken sections of the Green Mountains. Stalks of corn in the fields. I think the following passage was written at this time of year.
It is the noon;
Orioles are crying.
The river flows in silence.
Issa
Vermont Zen Center newsletter

D'oh!

The other night when I was out star gazing, I noticed with concern that there was a persistent band of light clouds that ran all the way across the sky from north to south. It wasn't interfering with what I was watching, but I was afraid it eventually would. Great astronomer that I am, it only took me about an hour to realize that what I was seeing wasn't clouds, but the Milky Way.

Lagoon Nebula

Sunny. Last night was clear, a good night for star gazing. Saw the Lagoon Nebula which rivals the Orion Nebula in luminosity. Also saw the Trifid Nebula, the M3 cluster, the Ptolemy cluster, the Butterfly star cluster, and the M22 cluster. Most of these are found near the constellation Sagittarius which appears right along the southern horizon around midnight this time of year. In order to see what I wanted to see, I had to haul my telescope up along the fence line by the woods in the back. When I got done about 2:30, everything was covered with dew including me.

the neighborhood

Rainy. Back in May on Green Up day, I went back to the bridge by the Clark farm to see if the pure white Bloodroot I had spotted there exactly a year ago had returned. It gladdened my heart to see that it had. The other day I noticed that the first Blue Flag Iris I ever saw was back in the tall grass along Cold River Road. The Deptford Pink, a vision in magenta, had also returned to its usual position just up the road, hiding behind a rock from the well meaning lawn mowers and weed whackers.
It seems sometimes like my neighborhood just keeps expanding. The wildflowers returned to their old haunts. The wood thrush calling from the woods behind the house. The crescent moon alongside Venus in the evening sky. Signposts and markers to a world that seems ever more familiar.

cardinals

Cloudy. There's a nest of cardinals over by production. We've been watching them periodically for a couple of weeks now, ever since the eggs started to hatch. The eggs had a mottled look, kind of like a malted milk ball. The chicks are growing amazingly quickly, and it is fun to watch their progress. The mother isn't amused.

plop

Sun in the mountains, fog in the valleys. Allyn's potted plant in the fir tree. Monarch butterflies sipping at the Dames Rocket. Irish moss growing in the cracks in the sidewalk at work. Plop of a frog in a pond.

Dear Lord

Cloudy. This event is not the usual narrative, but worthy of mention nonetheless. On Saturday night we went to a benefit concert given by Mill River alum, and Shrewsbury native Jonathan Lorentz. He is a jazz saxaphonist, and was there with his combo. He played a John Coltrane composition, Dear Lord. He said that it was a spiritual, a Coltrane spritual, but a spiritual nevertheless. It was a tune he had composed near the end of his life.
As Lorentz started to play, I began to feel like I was being filled up, like a balloon being inflated with helium. As he continued to play, I felt lighter, fuller. It finally got to the point where I felt like I couldn't take it anymore, like I was going to burst. Amazingly, just at that point, members of the audience erupted into spontaneous cheers. It was like they were feeling what I was feeling. I hooted and hollered along with them. I think I have experienced that sort of spontaneous support before, but rarely. There are versions of Dear Lord on Youtube. Check it out.

washout

Last night I went out after 10:00, and the sky was clear! Owl hooting in the blackness. I hauled out my telescope, star guide, binoculars, etc. Got a list of 4-5 sites to observe. As I was quietly setting up in the lane, I suddenly heard some growling and barking in the darkness not far away. I think I surprised & frightened the foxes which, in turn, surprised & frightened me. I yelled at them to go away. Finally got back to the heavens, and was honing in on the M3 globular cluster when some of the marker stars started to fade away. Clouds had started to quickly roll in which put an end to the star gazing before it ever got started. Frustrating.

nine squirrels

Cloudy. During the winter I used to fill up the bird feeder at work once a day. Now I am filling it three times a day. I think it's because the bird population is greater now, and that they feed more with the longer daylight. There is a woodpecker (hairy or downy) who's found the feeder. He splatters seeds all over the place. Yesterday there were nine, count 'em, nine squirrels scurrying around underneath. There are only six openings on the feeder for the birds. I'm going to have to get a part time job to pay for the seed.

Summer

Cloudy. Thunderheads over the Green Mountains east of Rutland. Silhouette of a heron fishing in a pond, perfectly still. Deer browsing in a field in the seemingly perpetual evening light. The green in the leaves of the trees is darkening as spring turns into summer.

June 8th

Over the weekend we spotted three red foxes in the back yard. Looks like there is a mother, and adolescent, and a pup. The two young ones spent a good deal of time chasing each other around as evening turned to night. The next day I saw them over by the old barn. I've got to believe the mother noticed me, but didn't pay a bit of attention to me. With the place virtually deserted during the day, they must feel that they own the place