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.