Barbara Rodgers

evening under the nut trees

O chestnut tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?
~ William Butler Yeats
(Our Secret Discipline: Yeats & Lyric Form)

Yesterday I finished writing and scheduling the next three blog posts, and then went off happily to a cookout at Nate & Shea’s. We’re trying to squeeze in as many visits as possible before they move away… My plan was to “coast” for a few days, by responding to comments here and catching up on my reading and commenting on other friends’ blogs…

The pictures are of the branches of a pair of nut trees in the front yard of Nate & Shea’s house. Most of the leaves, and zillions of the nuts, had come off during Tropical Storm Irene. Nate was using a snow shovel to clean the nuts off the lawn after the storm. The trees looked so sculptural in the cloudy light.

The sun came out after a while and Tim & I started playing badminton with four little guys, ages ranging from 2 to 7, and we were having a blast teaching them how to serve and we were all darting around trying to hit the shuttlecocks. Well, apparently I dove too far or tripped on one of those nuts or the edge of the sidewalk, and next thing I knew I was down on the ground, my body on the cement and my face down in the grass and soil. It’s a good thing we’ve had so much rain lately and the ground is really squishy. Tim said there was an imprint of my face left in the ground. I felt disoriented, as if I had been rudely awakened from sleep.

My right hand got the worst of it! It’s a sign of our times that my first thought was not how hard it might be to write, but how hard it might be to use my mouse! My mouse-hand! Shea gingerly bandaged the wounds and gave me an ice pack and I was able to enjoy the rest of the evening under the trees, gathered around the fire and the music – I love Nate’s Pandora Radio station – we seem to have the same taste in music. Ate dinner with my left hand. My right shoulder and arm are feeling very sore this morning, and my hand is very swollen! But nothing seems to be broken or in need of stitches and it looks like typing – I type with two index fingers anyway – and mouse clicking will not be too much of a problem, since I can leave the bandaged pinkie hanging off to the side…

at the renaissance faire

Last Saturday we braved the unseasonal heat and humidity and visited the Connecticut Renaissance Faire in Hebron, Connecticut.

We saw a silk aerialist on one stage:

Then we were approached by this self-proclaimed fool who invited us to see his duel on another stage. I said we would come if he’d allow me to take his picture. He posed willingly.

We watched another show on the stage shown below, from a distance, while eating our lunch in the shade. Not sure what it was all about – there was a lot of splashing and towel snapping – no doubt they were poking fun at the man they coaxed up there from the audience.

There were costumes to be seen everywhere…

But our favorite part of the day was the falconry demonstration. I’m not sure how I feel about this sport, but the falconer explained that their birds were rescue birds and that they would have perished in the wild. In theory these birds of prey could fly away if they were unhappy with their lot in life.

I was thrilled to be so close to these beautiful creatures, but my camera was getting a workout trying to zoom in and out to get pictures of them up close and far away. This falconer was very accommodating and kept pausing in front of me so I could get a shot.

I got the sense that these falconers love and respect their birds of prey. They seemed genuinely interested in educating the public about their natural behavior. No unnatural or coerced circus tricks here.

crescent moon abides

"Silver Road" by Patty Esola — “Silver Road” by Patty Esola

Each that we lose takes a part of us;
A crescent still abides,
Which like the moon, some turbid night,
Is summoned by the tides.
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1634)

a weed by the wall

summer 2008 ~ Center Street, Provincetown, Massachusetts

Our moods do not believe in each other. To-day I am full of thoughts, and can write what I please. I see no reason why I should not have the same thought, the same power of expression, to-morrow. What I write, whilst I write it, seems the most natural thing in the world; but yesterday I saw a dreary vacuity in this direction in which now I see so much; and a month hence, I doubt not, I shall wonder who he was that wrote so many continuous pages. Alas for this infirm faith, this will not strenuous, this vast ebb of a vast flow! I am God in nature; I am a weed by the wall.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
(Circles)

curiosity and wonder

While we are born with curiosity and wonder and our early years full of the adventure they bring, I know such inherent joys are often lost. I also know that, being deep within us, their latent glow can be fanned to flame again by awareness and an open mind.
~ Sigurd Olson
(Listening Point)

delicious autumn

King Richard’s Faire ~ 9.16.06 ~ Carver, Massachusetts

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
~ George Eliot
(The Writings of George Eliot)

blue thread

A mood of melancholy has followed me around like a dark cloud the past couple of weeks. It probably has a lot to do with the anticipated move out-of-state for our son and daughter-in-law drawing ever closer.

Tuesday Laurie of Speaking from the Heart, posed the question, “What’s been your most recent surprise?” Well, the night before Tim gave me the dragonfly pendant pictured at the right. Laurie hinted that she wanted to see it, so….

Other recent gifts have been a long phone call from my daughter and of course, this new web domain from my son. I feel blessed and full of gratitude, and yet, still blue. I’m also taking more steps on a path to vegetarianism and am engaged in a pensive, inner spiritual struggle. Planning to write a post about that soon…

Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragonfly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:
So this winged hour is dropped to us from above.
~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti
(Silent Noon)

I went up to visit my father Tuesday, and stayed overnight, returning yesterday morning. Visiting him always leaves me sad as there is so little I can do to make his life easier. My only hope is that my presence somehow makes him feel as comforted as the presence of my own children makes me feel…

Bernie, my sister Beverly, and I took a walk in the woods Wednesday morning. Bernie is showing his age and was in a little funk himself. If you haven’t been introduced to Bernie yet, you can find his story here.

Lately I’ve thought a lot about “my” hemlock tree, which I climbed all the time when I was a child. I loved to sit high up in it and absorb its energy and have now been wondering what its energy would feel like these days. Part of me wants to climb it again, for old times’ sake, but I’d have to bother someone for a ladder to get to the lowest branch and I question my agility and this stage of my life. The tree has been under attack and weakened from an infestation of the hemlock woolly adelgid, which my brother-in-law, who is a botanist, is trying to control. So I took a picture to show where Hurricane Gloria snapped its crown off in 1985. You can see where new growth has filled in above the break, in about the middle of the photo.

When I got home and uploaded the picture I was delighted to find it full of orbs! Orbs have been on my mind recently, too, since seeing Kathy’s picture of a golden brown orb on her post at Lake Superior Spirit. I think the orbs are a good sign that my tree still has some healing energy. Maybe I will bother someone about a ladder… Later on, walking along the path to the mailbox, I thought this little clearing looked pretty so I snapped another picture, and didn’t realize until I got home that it was full of orbs, too.

But that was it for surprise orb photos. The hemlock below has not fared so well, and has become an ideal place for woodpeckers to drill for insects…

I liked the texture I found in a pile of scrap lumber by the shed…

And to end on a more cheerful note, a pretty flowering sedum in Beverly’s rock garden…

swallowing the sun

Like the prodigal son
I return to you, the sea.
You who scare the idylls off
into tame inner fjords, bays and inlets
because you are much too majestic for weekend yachtsmen,
outboard motors and hobby anglers.
Without so much as a blink you swallow the sun
like a raw egg-yolk for supper
and at daybreak you lift heavy banks of cloud
dense with rain and squalls, a wet cloth
on sleep-heavy eyes and throbbing temples.
With the horizon like a diadem about your brows
you write your salt letters to the shore.
Land changes,
men and beasts come and go.
Only you
live your solitary life, the world’s
blue eyes fixed on the stars and eternity.

If the Earth has a soul,
it swims in you.

~ Kolbein Falkeid
(Homecoming to the Sea)

rosemaling

The new email subscription widget that Nate installed seems to be working now. Tim subscribed last night and he got a confirmation back and I got a confirmation notice for his subscription this morning. (It may have come while I was sleeping…) Please let me know if you have any problems.

Is anyone using the RSS feed? Wondering if that is working for those who get posts through that feed.