It's interesting to me how the sky, the mountains, and the surrounding countryside take on different looks depending on the time of year. Wondering if the amount and angle of sunlight, or the lack of sunlight factors into this, along with the amount of greenery present. At this time of year, the sky and landscape around here seems to present a gunmetal blue.
In the spring after the snow has melted, we often see a fox walking through the field in the back. We see him quite frequently as the spring days lengthen. As the days lengthen, so does the grass until it gets to the point that we are unable to discern the movements of the fox even though we know he it is still out there. In the fall I mow the fields and the fox returns to our lives. I saw it the other day, sauntering along the fence line. I wish I could have gotten a photo. Here's an old one.
In The Footsteps Of Nanabozho: Becoming Indigenous To Place
Braiding Sweetgrass
Robin Wall Kimmerer
Another sunny day in the 70's...in November. The bluebirds have returned. I saw about 8 of them hanging around the bluebird house in the back. I always thought they migrated, but I looked it up. Avian Report says that most bluebirds don't migrate. The map I saw indicated that Vermont is considered within their year round territory. Some bluebirds spend the summer in Canada and those are the ones that migrate. Also, there can be situational migrations, when there's a blizzard or cold snap, some of the birds might head south temporarily.
Awhile ago I mentioned that a branch of the forsythia had blossomed when a cold snap was followed by warm weather. Recently we have noticed the same phenomenon with regard to daffodils in the front yard.
A few weeks ago I mentioned that brush hogging allows one to visit pastures that are seldom seen over the course of the year. Yesterday I was putting up No Hunting signs along the perimeter of our land. Instead of visiting pastures this time, I was deep in the woods. Temperature was in the 70's and I was in a tee shirt for the first time I can ever remember when doing this chore. There is much beauty to be seen.
It is extremely dry here. The vernal pool doesn't have a drop of water in it as seen from the photo below.
I travel the boundary of our property to put up the signs. In many places I'm following old stone walls.
In some areas the stones haven't moved since when they were put there. How long ago was that? Who built them? I'll never know.
I thought about sending today's post just to family members, but I'll send it to everybody. Yesterday we were doing some work in one of Allyn's gardens. I noticed this pile of rocks.
Allyn spends a lot of time in her gardens; much more than I do. During her daily rounds, she takes the time to save and store the rocks that she finds. There are rock piles scattered everywhere in said gardens. She takes the time to do this because when her grandchildren come to visit, they love to throw rocks into the creek from the bridge that connects Kahle Road to the main road. They are set aside for this that purpose. I initially took this photo as a poignant reminder of our lost summer. No children and grandchildren visiting this year. The rocks are still in their designated piles rather than at the bottom of the Ira creek where they belong.
There's another way to look at this, however. The rock piles are just one of many examples of the threads of love and support with which Manga (Allyn) connects with her grandchildren. She sends them gift packages to help them celebrate the holidays like Halloween and Easter. She sends them Jib Jabs on their birthdays. Eliza is seven now. She has learned how to call Allyn on her lap top, and she calls Manga almost every day (I will do in a pinch if Allyn is unavailable). The two of them are now and forever connected. Allyn is a part of Eliza and Eliza is a part of Allyn, and this is the case with all of the grandchildren. We are lucky to have them, and they are so fortunate to have such a wonderful grandmother.
But it doesn't stop here. There aren't many advantages to being old, but one of them is the perspective that comes with time. Knowing Allyn's mother, it's not hard to see how Allyn ended up the way she did; hard working, kind, selfless. I never met Allyn's grandmother, but I have a pretty good idea about what she was like. And these threads of love were sewn by the other side of our family as well. My step-mother, Helen, was a saint. She was so busy loving her family that she usually forgot about herself and her own desires. These threads go in the other direction as well. John and Erin fortunately are like their mother, and are wonderful parents, just like their mother was. Where does this blanket of nurturing and caring start? Where does it end?
And I know that our family, fortunate as it is, is not the only one possessing these threads of love. So many of us are lucky to head out each morning to face the world, fortified by the warmth of fibers extending back countless generations. We are all very fortunate.
All from a pile of rocks.
