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Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category

Three turkey vultures soaring high over my head, two monarch butterflies feasting on nectar grown just for them, a cloud rapidly stripes my yard from sun to shadow and back, and the grind of a close-by lawn mower finishes off  fragmentation of my attention span.

The grass is now too short, its arms cannot shade its roots.  Where it cannot reach, weeds invade, soil dries, roots die.  The work product of an over-zealous 12-year old eager to mow – a good thing.  Have to watch that next time though, especially when stressed, 3″ is a good height for Kentucky Bluegrass this time of year.

Even things standing in full sun can shade themselves, if you give them a chance.  The lawn will recover.  With some care, its attention will turn again to growth, rather than survival.  The sun will provide sustenance rather than scorch, in time.

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Greener Pastures

Five frogs flattened. The tally of frog roadkill on the streets of my suburban neighborhood. Five frogs crossed the road to get to the other side – and never made it.

Why did the frogs try to cross the road? Biological imperative? A whiff of greener bogs beyond, or like the ubiquitous chicken, just to get to the other side?

I’ll not pretend knowledge of frog lore, perhaps like worms they surface in spring rains. Maybe they didn’t even notice the change in texture, from grass to asphalt, until their fate became etched in it.

I harber a wish that they crossed – not for sweet salvation on the other side – but because of their amphibious nature, their general ability to skirt worlds of land and water. To broker the line between this and that, irrespective of consequence, which in the case of these five frogs, was deadly.

Five frogs flattened. Maybe 50 more made it. Maybe no others tried. Just for the trying, to see what was there.

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Last November I watched a crow against an altocumulous background. Shifty day, winds higher up buffeted the crow off its southward path in the sky. It maintained a general direction, struggling, past my visual horizon. I wondered about destinations, whether it matters precisely where you land, as long as you get there.

Come April, I watched another crow, its due southwest path unfettered by opacity or breeze, an arrow of time finding its way. As this one too passed beyond my sight, I considered the importance of precision, of that right connection, clear, unhampered.

Conditions, intent, timing. A slope, a curve of the universe. Arbiters of this sphere.

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The water under the bridge glittered like diamonds this morning. Heaven in earth.

The view coming over the rise, just before driving the bridge, breathtaking. Moving light embanked. With the bridge, a clean intersection of fluid and structure. Dividing the landscape, before and after, now and then. By extension river and bridge go on forever, incessant division coupling with moments of brilliance.

Water under the bridge glittered like diamonds.

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Snowin’ all over the world

Another parking lot, another snowstorm. The brilliance of snowflakes is that they are both one and many.

They get all warm and friendly and pile up on each other as they come down, fluffy, peaceful falling stuff. Or, driven and anxious, they pelt earthward, determined to have an affect.

A lot like us, their shape depends on the conditions in which they formed. The ones with the real chilly backgrounds are going to turn out different than those formed with a bit more warmth.

Temptation is to focus on the ones right in front of you, catch ’em. But far more mesmerizing is the distant background – the vast, relentless waves – yet, each distinct, unique in its destiny.

Which may be an office building, a forest, or, a parking lot. Something marvelous about a snowstorm.

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We interrupt this program to bring you the following public service announcements:

As I am rather fond of the night sky, I offer:

Earth Hour (March 27, 2010, 8:30 local time): The opportunity to be involved with other people thinking about the earth, climate change and those sorts of things. Simply involves turning off your lights for an hour. https://www.myearthhour.org/about

and

Globe at Night, March 3 – 16, 2010: A bunch of folks (like me) concerned about light pollution, that nasty orange glow that washes out my stars. Neat activity comparing star chats with what you can actually see over a two-week period, helps research patterns of light pollution and give people a chance to learn about the importance of dark skies. http://www.globeatnight.org/

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program…

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It’s out there. It’s waiting. I just heard the rumble of the truck.

The plow wall.

Those who live in warmer climes have no experience of the plow wall – the enormous mound of scraped ice and snow brusquely deposited by snow plow blade across the length of my driveway.

I like living on a corner. Not tucked in, tidy and neat on the street, but exposed.

Exposure costs. More tonnage gets dumped in my path, icy silage for my shovel and spinal column. My snowblower won’t touch it, the plow wall demands handicraft.

Last week my mailbox took a hit from an errant, but Very Apologetic Driver. It gets that from time to time, another benefit of exposure.

I found it, knocked back in the snow like a tipsy reveler, mouth agape, a look of surprise about the eyes. The mailbox itself is fine, but its wood support post broke clean off.

Despite email and internet, mailboxes still receive, contain and dispense news from the physical world. No need to go outside the box on this one, the small interior space of any mail or post office box handles a lot – hopes, fears, information, invitation.

My mailbox, though in top shape, is now busted off at its ground. Come a thaw, the husband of the Very Apologetic Driver and I will dig a new hole and reset it, or maybe I’ll just do it myself.

In the meantime, the unasked for deposits of frozen muck accorded to my driveway have become a gift. The frozen terrain scraped from the streets now firmly supports my mailbox. I still shovel it, but with a smile for its service, I am grateful.

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The arrogance of mankind.

Weather on demand,” the radio DJ said, online, on the radio, in the air.

Forecast the pattern coming to a sky near you. Tune in, listen, count on it – it is coming in the air.

Human word nets cast over natural events, be comfortable, it’s handled – feel control you can never have.

Cloudy words, rainy days, frozen atmosphere. Take a guess, use your radar, no one ever knows what’s coming.

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I am an unabashed fan of Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day is one of those clever holidays that actually arises from the spring festivals of yore. While cynics eschew the paper hearts, candy and roses, the nature of the holiday is, well, nature.

About this time of year, things start to stir – seeds, thoughts, hearts. It is telling that we are a culture that requires a designated day to express love.

I just googled “love” – “a strong positive emotion of regard and affection.” Ah, but that author missed those that love to hate. The definition of love, I think, should reside more in the realm of “passion.”

Passion, such a beautiful word, one with a heartbeat. Even for those with darker passions, the word lives.

But love, at its hopeful best, is a quixotic, shapeshifting feeling unserved by a four-letter word.

Love is the highest product of humanity, a gift of our nature – whether for partner, friend, animal, endeavor – it is what connects those of us walking the planet at this time. Love is seed, fruit and harvest for the world.

If you are reading this, you and I have most likely crossed paths at some point in life, and for that I feel lucky. And if I haven’t met you, well, I hope to someday. This blog is my love letter to the world. Live love into the world when you have it, take some when you need it.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

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