• coffee life,  coffee shops,  fountain pens,  gratitude,  journal,  Mary Oliver,  poems,  writing/reading

    Warm Socks

    September 18, 2021

    “Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.”

    Mary Oliver

    My car said it was 43 degrees at 5:18 this morning. Hearing reports that the aspens are putting up some very nice colors in the higher elevations. Awoke early and spent an hour at the natural area this morning in almost complete darkness and silence. Brought along a book of poetry to provide some warmth. Yet, I was still chilled by the time I arrived at the coffee shop. As the fall season moves on I will adjust more to the colder mornings and not be near as chilled. However, I was grateful for warm socks and a mocha latte!

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  • insects,  Mary Oliver,  quotes

    Astonishing

    September 11, 2021

    “Let me keep my distance, always, from those
    who think they have the answers.

    Let me keep company always with those who say
    “Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
    and bow their heads.”

    Mary Oliver, from 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦: 𝘗𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴

    Spent time yesterday morning at The Gardens on Spring Creek. They now have a Butterfly House that I was able to visit for the first time. I hesitated but it was well worth the visit. Astonishing!

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  • Dewdrops,  grass,  Mary Oliver,  Plants,  poems,  poetry

    Lingering in Happiness

    September 2, 2021

    After rain after many days without rain,
    it stays cool, private and cleansed, under the trees,
    and the dampness there, married now to gravity,
    falls branch to branch, leaf to leaf, down to the ground

    where it will disappear–but not, of course, vanish
    except to our eyes. The roots of the oaks will have their share,
    and the white threads of the grasses, and the cushion of moss;
    a few drops, round as pearls, will enter the mole’s tunnel;

    and soon so many small stones, buried for a thousand years,
    will feel themselves being touched.

    Mary Oliver, from Why I Wake Early
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  • Mary Oliver,  Plants

    Details

    August 30, 2021

    ““Keep some room in your heart for the Unimaginable.”

    Mary Oliver, Evidence: Poems

    An image from an afternoon walk at Reservoir Ridge Natural Area. I like the details in this image because I relied on a tripod rather than my image stabilized lenses. After, carrying the tripod over my shoulders for awhile I remembered why I normally leave it in the car. Also, this was not a planned image but one I accidently framed. Another image given to me, with details. Unimaginable.

    I hadn’t visited this natural area in a few days. Loved that the grass was still tall along the trail and the grass they cut and bayled has begun to grow back and turn green again. I was surrounded by dragonflies and grasshoppers along the trail.

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  • Avian,  Mary Oliver,  meadowlark,  poems

    Alleluia

    July 5, 2021
    Western Meadowlark

    Sixty-seven years, oh Lord, to look at the clouds,
    the trees in deep, moist summer,
    daisies and morning glories
    opening every morning
    their small, ecstatic faces—
    Or maybe I should just say
    how I wish I had a voice
    like the meadowlark’s,
    sweet, clear, and reliably
    slurring all day long
    from the fencepost, or the long grass
    where it lives
    in a tiny but adequate grass hut
    beside the mullein and the everlasting,
    the faint-pink roses
    that have never been improved, but come to bud
    then open like little soft sighs
    under the meadowlark’s whistle, its breath-praise,
    its thrill-song, its anthem, its thanks, its
    alleluia. Alleluia, oh Lord.

    Mary Oliver
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  • gratitude,  landscape,  Mary Oliver,  natural areas,  Pineridge Natural Area,  poems,  sunrises,  writing/reading

    Invitation

    June 10, 2021

    Oh do you have time
    to linger
    for just a little while
    out of your busy

    and very important day
    for the goldfinches
    that have gathered
    in a field of thistles

    for a musical battle,
    to see who can sing
    the highest note,
    or the lowest,

    or the most expressive of mirth,
    or the most tender?
    Their strong, blunt beaks
    drink the air

    as they strive
    melodiously
    not for your sake
    and not for mine

    and not for the sake of winning
    but for sheer delight and gratitude –
    believe us, they say,
    it is a serious thing

    just to be alive
    on this fresh morning
    in the broken world.
    I beg of you,

    do not walk by
    without pausing
    to attend to this
    rather ridiculous performance.

    It could mean something.
    It could mean everything.
    It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
    You must change your life.

    Mary Oliver, “Invitation,”
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  • Mary Oliver,  poems,  shadows,  writing/reading

    Full of Beans

    June 3, 2021
    Morning shadows in my bedroom

    I wish I was twenty and in love with life
    and still full of beans.

    Onward, old legs!
    There are the long, pale dunes; on the other side
    the roses are blooming and finding their labor
    no adversity to the spirit.

    Upward, old legs! There are the roses, and there is the sea
    shining like a song, like a body
    I want to touch

    though I’m not twenty
    and won’t be again but ah! seventy. And still
    in love with life. And still
    full of beans.

    Mary Oliver
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