Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems. ~Rainer Maria Rilke

Saturday, March 15, 2008

The whole of life lies in the verb "seeing". (Teilhard de Chardin)

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A few days ago, on a walk up the hill, I came across an odd work of nature. It seemed to be only in one area and very few in number: A blade of grass, less than a foot high, with an oak leaf speared on it. At first I thought that heavy wind or some strange downward force of nature produced this oddity, but when I showed the pictures to my husband, he said that it was more likely that the blade of grass grew up through the oak leaf already on the ground.As much as I wanted it to be some strange phenomenon of nature and wind, I had to agree that his idea made more sense. The prospector has always kept me grounded. I do love him for that.
I still think it's strange and I marvel at the strength of nature. That a delicate, fragile blade of grass can have such power leaves me with a sense of wonder that never ends. I offer these photos for your observation and comment.

MULLEIN(VERBASSCUM THAPSUS): on a frosty morning.

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Friday, March 14, 2008

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes and the grass grows by itself. (Zen saying)

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"No birds in spring", he says
And thousands descend
Into the yard
As if in protest:
Flooding my page
With word droppings
And feathered song.

"No birds in spring,", he says.
What would the ears hear?
Old crows take offense.

Thursday, March 13, 2008


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Squeaky; the confused bantam

I'm not sure what's wrong with Squeaky, our bantam hen. She,s confused, poor thing. She has this obsession: She has to sit on all of the eggs that are laid inside the chicken house. Everyday, when we go out to get the eggs, there's Squeaky, sitting on as many as she can get underneath her. We know they're not her eggs because they are big brown or blue ones.
She's kind of a loner hen. She doesn't even hang with the other two bantams. She spends most of her time inside the chicken coop and is more friendly with us than the other hens. We call her Squeaky because she doesn't cluck; she squeaks. If she isn't sitting on eggs, she tries to follow us around. I think she could be a "house" hen if it weren't for the dogs.
Anyway, this afternoon I went to get the eggs and there she was, in the box, looking at me like she knew what was going to happen. She ruffled her tail feathers and squeaked at me. I reached down underneath her and retrieved three warm (BIG), beautiful eggs. She pecked at me and told me in no uncertain terms that I was violating her chicken rights.... and then, to add insult to injury,I had the audacity to take her picture too. As I left the coop I think I heard her use a derogatory squeak. It had a different tone. I'm sure it was intended for me.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008


You would have thought it was my birthday last week. On Thursday I met my friend Karen for lunch and she brought me a big bag of books and a belated birthday gift. My birthday was in December, but we hadn't seen each other for almost a year. Life sometimes gets in the way. It was a good reunion.
Friday, Judy, another good friend, and I drove to Murphy's (above Angels Camp) for the day and when she picked me up she brought us Pussy Willows from her garden ( which is a gardener"s dream ).
Friends that come bearing gifts...., books that they have read and want to share; gifts that were made or grown; or that have special meaning...., make my heart glad. The friendships, by themselves, are gifts. I find, as I get older, that these women that I've known the longest are the most prized. We make an effort to understand each other. We know our faults and try to overlook them. It's a comfortable place to be....., so: to Donna in Montana: to Carol in Sacramento and to Judy and Karen close by....thank you for being my friends. You are my "icing on the cake".

And then after I had this overwhelming couple of days, feeling so grateful for pussy willows and friendship,, I receive a package from my sister. She sent me a book,published in England, called A DOG BOOK. It's filled with stories, poetry, wonderful vintage drawings and lots more; and a sweet card that says "Do what you love and love what you do." Inside she writes that she loves my blog and it makes her feel like she is with me a little each day. Thanks, Sis ! I love you so much.

The moon must be in it's seventh house and Jupiter aligned with Mars ( that's for those of us who remember the 60's ). It was a great week!!!

Monday, March 10, 2008



I use to dream
That I could fly.
The sky would lift
Myself so high.
The blue air, white cloud,
Sky would ask
If I were bird, or cloud
Or leaf...
And I would laugh.

Brightness, blinding
Sight from seeing;
I would lift my winged arm
And catch some passing cloud.
The sun would play her
Scattered light
Upon the edges
Of my eyes...
And I would laugh.

Color prismed passing, air to air,
Would move reflecting fragments through the air.

Sun God, star cloud, blue white sky;
Why did I dream that I could fly?


TUNDRA SWANS?, going back to B.C. Canada. What an amazing sound they make.

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Sunday, March 9, 2008


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TO MY DAD: on his birthday


I remember you!
The young man
That lifted me so high above his head
That I had to catch my breath and breathe.
Didn't you read me Sunday morning comics on your lap?,
Tuck me in bed at night
And rub my back when I was sick?

You were the man who
Taught me how to make a bed,
Wash the family car and
Ride a bike.

You were young, handsome and tan.
(Mom said it was the "Indian in you.)
You were the first man
I ever fell in love with.

Was it so long ago, when you taught me
How to drive a car and waited, not so patiently,
For me to come home from a date?
Was it you who held my small hand
When I crossed the street?....
Then gave my hand, in marriage,
On my wedding day.

Do you remember
When you brought my old teddy bear
To the hospital
After my cancer operation?
Bravely joking with me;
Telling me everything would be OK.

Where did you go?
Could this old man be you?
Lying so still, so quiet, breathless
And beyond the boundaries of life,
Where I cannot follow.
Where are you now?
Do you know that we're here?

I loved you young man.
I loved you...old man.
But you knew that, didn't you?
So it's Ok.
I'm sad, but it's Ok.

My father would be 94 years old today. He died last year and didn't really know who he was anymore because of Alzheimer's disease. He was not an easy man to live with but my mother always loved him. He worked hard and took good care of his family. I miss the man he was.