• clouds,  landscape,  Mary Oliver,  natural areas,  Pineridge Natural Area,  poems

    Paying Attention

    October 13, 2021

    I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
    I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
    into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
    how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
    which is what I have been doing all day.
    Tell me, what else should I have done?

    Mary Oliver

    I spent an hour at one of the natural areas this afternoon. The sun felt good as I sat on the bench and looked out over the meadow, being idle and blessed. The trees along the edges of the reservoir are taking on the colors of fall, while some already stand naked of leaves. A fall wind blows in my face from the northeast. I watch clouds casting their shadows over the meadow and I could hear the prairie dogs bark as people walked along the trails. I was practicing how to pay attention.

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  • Black and White,  coffee life,  lifestyles,  Mary Oliver,  poems,  sunrises,  writing/reading

    Another Poem

    September 21, 2021
    Mocha latte after morning at a local natural area

    Catbird
    From one branch to another, or across the path,
    he dazzles with flight.
    Since I see him every morning, I have rewarded myself
    the pleasure of thinking that he knows me.
    Yet never once has he answered my nod.
    He seems, in fact, to find in me a kind of humor,
    I am so vast, uncertain and strange.
    I am the one who comes and goes,
    and who knows why.
    Will I ever understand him?
    Certainly he will never understand me, or the world
    I come from.
    For he will never sing for the kingdom of dollars.
    For he will never grow pockets in his gray wings.

    Mary Oliver

    This is the last part of a poem by Mary Oliver called Catbird. I relate to this part of the poem because I have experienced such moments with Goldfinches, Robins, and Chickadees. I especially like where she writes, “Since I see him every morning, I have rewarded myself the pleasure of thinking that he knows me.” Yes, I talk to birds!

    It is a cold fall morning with 43 degrees. I saw where Berthoud Pass had an overnight low of 18 degrees, so it’s actually warm here. After yesterday’s winds the cloudless skies are beautiful. This mornings full moon cast shadows across the meadow at the natural area. Now a mocha latte. Have an Awesome day!

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  • 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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