Tag: fields

shelter of the dark

OdilonRedon.thedream
“The Dream” by Odilon Redon

The world rests in the night. Trees, mountains, fields, and faces are released from the prison of shape and the burden of exposure. Each thing creeps back into its own nature within the shelter of the dark. Darkness is the ancient womb. Nighttime is womb-time. Our souls come out to play. The darkness absolves everything; the struggle for identity and impression falls away. We rest in the night.
~ John O’Donohue
(Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom)

For some reason I’ve been sleeping very well this winter. After the excitement of the holidays drifted away the days now seem very peaceful, the nights long and restful, and my dreams full of sweetness. Perhaps I am creeping back into my own nature. I’ve been “pruning” my family tree by day because it needs a lot of editing every once in a while.

A few Alberta clippers (fast moving snowstorms that seem to originate in Alberta, Canada) have passed through, leaving delightful snow flurries and light coatings of powdery snow. The bitter cold snaps have been more remarkable. The lowest temperature we’ve had here by the shore so far was 2°F (-17°C). Inland has been much colder. Today I will start putting away the solstice decorations. It would be nice to have at least one big snowstorm, a nor’easter, this winter…

so many claims

8.18.13 ~ Groton, Connecticut
ring-billed gull ~ 8.18.13 ~ Eastern Point Beach

This week I have not read any book, nor once walked in the woods and field. I meant to give its days to setting outward things in order, and its evenings to writing. But, I know not how it is, I can never simplify my life; always so many ties, so many claims! However, soon the winter winds will chant matins and vespers, which may make my house a cell, and in a snowy veil enfold me for my prayer.
~ Margaret Fuller
(Letter to William H. Channing, October 25, 1840)

everything is flowing

Blue Marble image of North America
by NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring

In the belly of the furnace of creativity is a sexual fire; the flames twine about each other in fear and delight. The same sort of coiling, at a cooler, slower pace, is what the life of this planet looks like. The enormous spirals of typhoons, the twists and turns of mountain ranges and gorges, the waves and the deep ocean currents – a dragonlike writhing.
~ Gary Snyder
(A Place in Space)

Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have a clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.
~ J. R. R. Tolkien
(The Return of the King)

Contemplating the lace-like fabric of streams outspread over the mountains, we are reminded that everything is flowing — going somewhere, animals and so-called lifeless rocks as well as water. Thus the snow flows fast or slow in grand beauty-making glaciers and avalanches; the air in majestic floods carrying minerals, plant leaves, seeds, spores, with streams of music and fragrance; water streams carrying rocks both in solution and in the form of mud particles, sand, pebbles, and boulders. Rocks flow from volcanoes like water from springs, and animals flock together and flow in currents modified by stepping, leaping, gliding, flying, swimming, etc. While the stars go streaming through space pulsed on and on forever like blood globules in Nature’s warm heart.
~ John Muir
(Meditations of John Muir: Nature’s Temple)

Happy Earth Day!

a sap run

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

Before the bud swells, before the grass springs, before the plow is started, comes the sugar harvest. It is the sequel of the bitter frost; a sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter.
~ John Burroughs
(Signs & Seasons)

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

We had no idea what a treat we were in for when we checked into a motel in Orange, Massachusetts Saturday night. Our plan was to spend the night, grab a breakfast somewhere, and head over to a family reunion in the neighboring town of Athol on Sunday afternoon. In the morning we discovered a great place to have breakfast, on Johnson’s Farm, a restaurant, sugar house, and gift shop! Maple syrup production was well under way, the old-fashioned way.

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

Sugar weather is crisp weather. How the tin buckets glisten in the gray woods; how the robins laugh; how the nuthatches call; how lightly the thin blue smoke rises among the trees! The squirrels are out of their dens; the migrating waterfowls are streaming northward; the sheep and cattle look wistfully toward the bare fields; the tide of the season, in fact, is just beginning to rise.
~ John Burroughs
(Signs & Seasons)

If only some way could be found to share the smell of New England in maple sugar season on a blog post! Our olfactory receptors were tickled with delight to whiff in the aromas of wood-burning stoves and sap boiling down into syrup. We bought a couple of jugs of pure maple syrup! Mostly we’ll be using it in marinades, since pancakes are no longer on our grain-free diet…

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

It was if we had been transported back in time to a place in the heart of New England. It made me appreciate anew that there are more “seasons” than the four four we normally notice as the year goes around. The gnarly old tree in the above picture caught our attention – what an amazing life it has had. And I loved the knotty pine interior of the sugar house in the picture below – so typical of New England.

3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts
3.10.13 ~ Orange, Massachusetts

When we got home Sunday night Zoë and Scarby seemed a little angry with us (ears pinned back, ignoring us) for leaving them overnight, but they’re back to purring and following us around, rubbing our legs and talking to us again.

feeling the light

“Brook in March” by Willard Metcalf
“Brook in March” by Willard Metcalf

A Light exists in Spring
Not present in the Year
At any other period –
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn
It shows the furthest Tree
Opon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay –

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #962)

strawberry fields

1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
imagine ~ 1.28.12 ~ New York, New York

Wondering Rose, this post is for you! I remember when someone visiting the museum where you work asked, “Where’s the museum?” even though he was already in the museum. I was sympathetic to the poor man as it is usually me who gets confused when overwhelmed by crowds, but when we visited our daughter and her boyfriend in New York over the weekend it was my husband who wasn’t keeping up with our guides for the day.

1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
Strawberry Fields
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York

I wanted to see Strawberry Fields, a garden in Central Park that is dedicated to the memory of musician John Lennon. Larisa & Dima led the way into the garden from our first subway stop and there were plenty of signs indicating that we were indeed at the memorial. But Tim was lagging behind and decided to ask a busy gardener, “Where is Strawberry Fields?”

1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York

“Never heard of it,” the gardener replied, smiling. But then he pointed over to where Larisa & Dima were standing, a few feet away. It made me wonder how often the good-natured gardener (above photo) has to field such questions! It’s all right, though, the snowdrops surrounding the Cornelian cherry tree (below) seem to be confused as well. They do not usually come up until near the end of February, but our winter has been so mild who could blame them for thinking spring is on the way?

1.28.12 ~ New York, New York
1.28.12 ~ New York, New York

photos by Timothy Rodgers

catching up

"So, how is your appetite?" by John Bauer
“So, how is your appetite?” by John Bauer

If you left a comment for me that I didn’t respond to between September 16 and now, I want to let you know that I have now gone back through my posts and have left responses.

The “Notify me of followup comments via e-mail” box is working now!

My index fingers are in working order after my fall, and since I can’t do much else with these torn-up hands, I’m looking forward to catching up with everyone else’s blogs now, as I got terribly behind while moving By the Sea over here…

Also, I’ve been busy reading books about food choices and writing the next three posts, for the next three days. They are a bit of a departure from my usual offerings, and may seem depressing or fanatical, but growth, change and discovery are often painful. I want you to know that I’m not trying to be critical of how others choose to eat, or pushing my agenda, just working things out for myself and my husband’s well-being, and sharing a little of that journey.

The greatest delight the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me and I to them.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
(Nature)

harvest moon

"The Harvest Moon" by George Hemming Mason
“The Harvest Moon” by George Hemming Mason

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

~ Carl Sandburg
(Under the Harvest Moon)