shimmer

The water in the Ira brook always seems very clear this time of year. Stones on the bottom shimmer in the light. Smoke from neighbors burning leaves in the back yard. Sounds of cardinal and pileated woodpecker. 

birds

Hearing the sounds of birds in the morning. Welcome back!

3/25/08
A couple of revealing moments about life in a cold climate. This morning on our morning walk we ran into Barb, and we all remarked about how it was getting light out. About two minutes  later, we were walking by the Dufner's house. I heard a high pitched repetitive sound. I couldn't figure out what it was. It sounded like maybe a squeaky fan might be running in their basement. It finally dawned on me what it was. It was a solitary bird singing to the rising sun. In a few weeks there will be hundreds of them doing the same thing. It has been so long since I'd heard that sound. It seemed like a miracle!
To a lesser degree, I experienced the same feeling yesterday walking to production. The snow on the front lawn has been receding, and it disappeared completely over the weekend. That which had been covered with snow and invisible for so long was revealed. Again, it seemed like a miracle.
On the one hand, there's something a little pathetic about living in a place where a singing bird is considered a miracle. On the other hand, it's a gift. Complacency is one of the greatest killers of the joy of living. Living in a cold climate continues to offer opportunities to appreciate and savor the small miracles of life. In many ways that is the heart of this daily journal. Opossum seen along the road in West Rutland last night.

home

Took the red eye from California to Albany yesterday. Driving home to Vermont in the wee hours of the morning, the waning moon rising over the Green Mountains in the east showing the way. I crossed over the Vermont border in Fair Haven about two in the morning, and gave out a literal sigh of relief. I was home.

In going and returning we never leave home.
Affirming Faith in Mind

moment by moment

Yesterday morning, after the usual Thursday meditation, some of us went up to a local coffee house. It had rained the night before, and I happened to look outside, and noticed raindrops hanging from the branches of a tree. They shone in the morning light from the sun rising over the Green Mountains, and the city of Rutland. When you moved your head slightly from side to side, you could see various colors from the spectrum reflected in the drops of water, purple and blue...orange, yellow, and red. On the one hand it was a very mundane and ordinary situation, water hanging from tree branches after a rain. On the other hand it was miraculous and beautiful; heavenly actually. There is so much beauty in the ordinary that is available to us, moment by moment, if we can just open ourselves up to it and experience it.

This earth where we stand is the pure lotus land, and this very body is the body of Buddha.
Hakuin

profusion

One thing I've noticed doing this blog over the years, many phenomena are either totally absent, or displayed in profusion; snowflakes, dandelions, mayflies. Yesterday I spotted the first robins of the year. There was not one or two, however, there were at least a dozen. I remember one spring driving out the lane, and thinking I'd seen a robin. When I got home that night, I made a special note to look for it. I didn't see one robin, though, there were at least 50 in the back yard. Heard the sound of a red-eyed vireo this morning.

barbecue

I went to Home Depot yesterday to buy a wheelbarrow, and spring is coming there as well. Riding lawnmowers in the front, snow blowers in the back. I saw a woman buying a barbecue that was the almost the size of a small car. They had to wheel it on to a trailer to get it out of there.

never was

On Wednesday it was 74 degrees in Rutland. Crocuses are appearing in the usual spot along Woodstock Ave. Convertibles out with the tops down. Sound of a motorcycle. It felt great, but I have to admit a longing for the winter that never was.