Approaching Winter Solstice

daily haiku

solstice dawn rising

golden mornings and evenings

spiritual feasting

Such a beautiful time of the winter, it never fails to lift my heart in awe of the beauty in this place. I was so lucky to have seen an "ad" in the newspaper in England so long ago (1964) and come to these gorgeous surroundings.

I was thinking this morning that one of the reasons I wanted to stay, besides meeting my first husband Bob, was because of the sunshine and huge expanse of blue sky. Looking back I might have suffered from SAD in the UK; the winters were long, dark and wet. Last winter was the worst of my life, hardly seeing the sun during long periods of time really exacerbated my grief.

Just lately I walk in Birney in the morning and then down the driveway and back in the afternoon just taking in the hills with their rifts hilighted by snow. I can see animal prints everywhere and know that, whatever I feel, I am not alone on the hill. Mouse tracks from under bushes, deer hoofprints everywhere, tiny prints on the patio from birds and chipmunks, pheasants peck under the fenceline and as I drive in lately I disturb a flock of Hungarian Partridge - now called Grey Partridge I think.

In 2003 I had an essay (prose poem?) published in Hard Ground IV: Writing the Rockies called At The Solstice. I think it shows my happiness at this time of year so I am posting it below. Happy Solstice time readers!

At the Solstice

Approaching winter solstice, I draw back the curtains in the morning light. I see long shadows from the rising sun, that highlights deer tracks in the snow, and touches trees, weeds, and hillsides, with pale gold light.

Later in the day, working at my computer, the low light shines through the window reflecting in my computer screen and I reluctantly lower the blinds. The cat loves the winter sunshine; seeks out puddles of sunbeams. She moves around the house, following the rays of light, and bathing her rheumatic joints in their warmth.

Later, when I put her outside, she acts as if she is going to her doom; one step and she’s face to face with the firing squad. It makes no difference that I tell her calmly, it is her work to chase the Pine Crows from the bird feeder so the little birds can fly in to feed; her baleful glance and switching tale tell me she thinks, “So – what?”

As low clouds gather in the late afternoon, the sun hides behind them, the light turning thin, but still casting salmon-colored rays around each fold of vapor. The sun slowly lowers to the south and west, and long shadows form once more, this time from trees, fence posts, and the side of our house. The cat mews pitifully outside the door trying to tell me it’s cold out, there aren’t any more Pine Crows, and besides, it’s time for her afternoon snack.

I watch the evening rays slowly sink below the horizon, spreading their glow across the Buttes, the colors reflecting in the partially frozen river, in one last moment of glory. The cat is now inside gorging on Ocean Fish Dinner, and my husband lights the fire, ready to warm us in the long solstice evening ahead. I am content.

Morning Thoughts At Minus Eleven

daily haiku

minus eleven

a pink dawn through icicles
treacherous beauty

I am sitting here at my computer, room at 62°, which in summer would be most welcome. This morning I have to run a heater to stop what Peter called "the radiative effect" of the cold from pulling all the heat away from my feet and legs. I finished my energy news research and got the urge to write in my blog when, as yet, I haven't had any coffee to stimulate my brain. Must be early cabin fever!

The extreme cold weather is unseasonable this side of Thanksgiving, it blew down from a bad front which brought cold, snow and high winds to Alaska a week ago. At least we have been spared their 100 mph winds - I simply can't imagine that chill factor.

As long as the promised warmer temperatures arrive as forecast, I plan to spend Thanksgiving day with our friends the Peterson family in Sheridan. Adrian and Thelma had an antique store in Dayton, WY. at the foot of the Big Horns and having a Connecticut background in common we became good friends. Adrian and Peter shared a wickedly dry sense of humor and we shared many of the same past-times. We were invited to have Thanksgiving with them around 1983 and it has continued to this day. Adrian died in 2008, Peter in 2010. This year saw the sudden death of their son David, and of Thelma's mother, "Gramms" Isakson at 103 years old. So our numbers are dwindling. There will be some sadness missing all the good times we had together, the laughter and stories.

Along the way we graduated to having dinner at Thelma's son's house Bob Peterson - which is in a lovely spot that looks towards the Big Horns. Lyn cooks a turkey for us even though she doesn't like turkey very much, and I bring candied cranberries from a recipe I found in Gourmet magazine in 1967. Thelma makes an awesome pumpkin pie and Bob a sour cream raisin pie and sometimes maybe a couple of others as well . Yes we all suffer from desert mania!

This year we'll be giving thanks for having Gramms with us for so many years; for David's life and his sobriety, which although cut short, helped him to reach out and heal many others through his work in addiction; for still having Joe and Pauline - Lyn's Mum and Dad - with us, and for just having each other to lean on through our grieving process for these great family members who will share with us in spirit but no longer in body.

The Brits Must Have Their Tea In Bed

daily haiku

tea awakens me

golden taste of india

jump starts feeble brain

In the UK having tea in bed is a luxury that people indulge in quite a lot. They even make a machine to make tea automatically in your bedroom called the Teasmade - here is a link to a video that is fun to watch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkDu0kZkjFw

Yearning to treat myself to this pleasure again, before I went to bed last night I set up a tray in the bedroom with electric kettle, cup and saucer, milk jug and sugar bowl and a 1-cup teapot with a teabag in it. This morning I woke at 6.00 and decided to go back to sleep then suddenly I remembered - ah - tea in bed! So I got up, turned on the kettle put on my bed jacket and got back into bed. The kettle boiled. I got out, poured the hot water over the teabag and stood there slightly chilly while it "mashed" then poured the final cup and got into bed again. Ahhh - delightful! I leaned back against the pillows, read, and drank tea before getting up.

But then what could I do without my first cup of tea as I read the newspaper at my computer? My day was totally discombobulated! So what did I do? Made a second cup of course!

I don't think tea in bed will be a part of my life on a regular basis but it was a fun exercise in getting chilled while going back and forth between the bed and the teapot. Of course, there's always a Teasmade!

daily haiku

first snow of the fall

cleans away dust of summer

reveals nature's truth

The dire forecasts did not come to pass, since I woke up to 1/2 inch this morning instead of the anticipated 5". I was lazy and left the sun to sweep it away instead of rushing out with the broom!

I am hoping that the cold discourages or kills some of the bugs that have been a plague as usual this fall. The flies, moths and box elder bugs are ever present but we have developed a penchant towards centipedes and stink bugs the last few years. In years past we occasionally saw a horrifying centipede or two in the house, about 3-4" long and moving like lightning with all those gruesome legs a-wiggling. Most of them were caught under an ashtray in Peter's smoking days, or a water glass in later years, then thrown outside well away from the house.

About 3 years ago, everyone in Birney started complaining about centipedes in the house in the fall, but these are different. About an inch and a half, brown and moving fairly slowly, I frankly wonder if they are a true centipede; they have lots of legs but quite short. Snowy loves them. If I see her staring at the floor I usually know what has caught her attention. She "bats" them with her paw and they oblige her curiosity by rolling up into a ball! Then "mom" interferes and they are flushed down the toilet spoiling all the fun.

This year I've had an invasion of stink-bugs of the type known as shield bug. I have seen them before but left them alone thinking they were a beetle, their shield is quite beatuiful. This year they are plentiful and more aggressive. I'll spare the details but one of them excreted on me in bed one night and I had no idea what it was until I killed another that was invading a roll of toilet paper and the same odd smell emanated from it. At first the smell is gagging but underneath it there is an interesting perfume, which makes me think that their smell is not only a deterrent but could be an attractant to lady stink bugs. I have found a wonderful weapon for disposing of all these invaders and that is a Dustbuster. I usually tour the windows at least once a day and vacuum up the flies, moths, box elders and stink bugs. No mess!

This morning when I was paying bills I looked up to see a stink bug ready to help guide my pen across the check - now that is a useful task. Maybe they have a use after all for paying the stinking monthly bills!

Louise Valentine Pattison

Cary Valentine; Louise Valentine Pattison; Gerri Pattison

daily haiku

who can measure worth

she was far above rubies

her love will endure

My sister-in-law died last week. A wonderful and loving person much like her brother Peter. I will miss her greatly. Although we saw each other rarely, we always wrote and talked on the phone and she understood my grief as only another widow can.

Peter and Louise grew up together with parents and grandparents in a brownstone in Brooklyn, New York. A Quaker family who embraced the traditions of peace and love towards one another and the rest of the world. Even though both Peter and Louise left the Quaker faith in later life, they too carried with them the same principles and I inherit them now from Peter and in the lives of my step-children. What a wonderful bequest to receive. I hope I can leave the same to my friends and family when I die.

Proverbs - 31

10 A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value.

12 She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.

13 She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands.

14 She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar.

15 She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants.

16 She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.

17 She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.

18 She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night.

19 In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers.

20 She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy.

21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet.

22 She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple.

23 Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.

24 She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes.

25 She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.

26 She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

27 She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.

28 Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:

29 “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.”

30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,

and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Finding The Right Wavelength

daily haiku

light frost does not kill

petunias bravely bloom on

floral veterans

The petunias still color my world outdoors, such a treat, but they are now getting pale and leggy; not as bright as in the middle of the summer months. I still walk each day but I am feeling a bit pale and leggy myself, since using the weedeater this summer triggered arthritis that I knew was there but have not felt until now. Trudging along the gravel surface I am finding that I think of Peter a lot and yearn for the days when we used 2-way radios. A gift from son Sam. He thought it was a good idea to have a way to communicate when I was out walking.

I think it was Sam that gave us our "handles." Peter, at the house on the hill, was TOWER, and I was WANDERER. Peter often washed the dishes while I was walking and inevitably I called just at the time he had his hands in the sink full of water and there was a long pause before he answered sounding a bit testy! But it was fun. I stopped at the Post Office to mail letters first and often picked up the local news and radio'd him a few tidbits. If I received a phone call he would set up a 3-way conversation.

This morning I was thinking that it is unfair that we cannot communicate with our loved-ones after they die. How come God doesn't give us a wavelength on the 2-way radio so we can keep in touch?

"Wanderer to Tower - how is it up there?"

Tower to Wanderer, "Oh, a bit cloudy this morning. The moisture's been affecting my wing feathers."

That sort of thing - very comforting. But until I find that wavelength, I'll have to enjoy talking to all my family and friends, not a bad deal if you ask me!
Cheers mates!

Beauty of color, glory of death

daily haiku

beauty of color
leaves of plum, lime, bronze and gold
the glory in death

It is a whole month since I wrote in this blog. My excuse is busyness, but also I am aware of what I wrote last fall, and I am wary of repetition.

It is now fifteen months since I lost Peter and a year since his lovely memorial service. I feel so much stronger and able to cope, but there is sadness too. In feeling better I leave behind the sharp memories of him that brought so much pain of loss. I find myself wanting the sharp pain back and the sharp memories with it. I am torn between wanting to feel better and wanting go back to capture that wonderful feeling of closeness to him that was enrobed in all the pain. I can’t have it both ways and in the end there certainly is no choice!

Peter left me the gift of his children and their love makes my life brighter. Each of them is a living testament to the good, intelligent and kind man that he was. Just looking at the haiku above , I think the glory in death is in the new lives we create, the fostering of it in loving parenting, and in the strength of the human example we leave behind.

The Long Dry

daily haiku

grass is tinder dry

some fires in the area

leaves begin to fall

Little rain for nearly two months and the countryside is in its usual time of waiting for moisture. Rain in the next few weeks if we are lucky, or October snow if we're not. I am forced to use the methane water to keep my plants alive - I use the bare minimum and hope that winter snow washes away the sodium salts. Plants look tired and "stalky" especially the mint that is stubbornly refusing to bloom. Intead of mint, the bees are clustering around the spikes of purple russian sage. I caught sight of them after the last rain, glued to the blossoms, which made me think they cannot fly when their wings get wet? I had to poke one to find out if it was alive - it was - it did not fly.

Grasshoppers are eating anything with moisture, and although we do not have a lot of them there are holes in the petals of the petunias that show they are hungry as ever. I drove to Ashland a few times where they have a plague of them and I could hear pings and pops as they hit the front of the car. I hate that. They form a cement-like layer which takes ages to remove in the car wash.

The cottonwood is losing early dried leaves and my energy is split on whether to rake now and later, or wait til they are all down. My perfectionism votes for the first option, my laziness the second! Neither option has won as yet.

As for me, approaching my 70th birthday, I notice dry skin on my arms that look like my mothers' when she was older. Crepey and creepy in my opinion. I fight wrinkles with Lancome, but the beastley little skin-valleys are slowly winning. I am in the fall of my life raking over the old years and petrified of the new ones; but I can chose to enjoy today - it's all we have anyway.

Got Eagle Poop?

daily haiku

mid august pauses

cool mornings bring animals

some not so welcome

I couldn't find a photo to act as inspiration for this entry so here is a photo of my favorite room-mate. She is so beautiful. With Foxes in the area it means that her favorite hunting targets - cottontails - just are not around, so she has delighted her hours with chasing chipmunks. They are so fast I doubt she will ever catch one, but one ran up into my vine mesh, got stuck in it and died. I wondered where the smell was coming from! I looked all over in the flower beds - never thought to look upwards until the other day when I thought there was a bunch of leaves caught in the mesh and got a surprise.

I had another surprise this morning. I have been aware that with cool mornings snakes could start finding their way to hibernate in and under the rocks etc around the house. This morning I went to step out of the screen door and had an eerie feeling that a snake was on the doorstep and sure enough there was a small one on the doormat that I bought to keep them away. Obviously it doesn't work!

I shut the door quickly, grabbed the mop, and then flipped it out onto the rock patio with the handle. It was quite shocked and coiled. I looked at it carefully and could not decide if it was a young bull snake or a rattler. It had no rattles but it's head looked suspicious so I decided to kill it to be certain. Any snake who sits on my doorstep qualifies for hazard pay! So I killed my first snake with the long handled shovel. I still have no idea what it was and just in case it was poisonous it is now buried in the flowerbed where it can fertilize the rose bush. (if cats eat the head they will die).

That leaves me with a problem. I need a different doormat that will repel snakes. During my morning walk I invented a refrigerated doormat - I am sure my neighbor, Butch Fjell, can make one - they'll stay away from the cold for sure. But the one I had the most giggles thinking about was the Vibrating Doormat. Snakes don't like vibrations and I could have fun standing on it; 5 minutes before bed at night would be bound to ensure good sleep! Visitors would have fun with it too!

Then of course, a person should use the power of a predator to keep them away so I am appealing to my friends and bloggers to send me 5lbs of Eagle Poop so I can spread it around the back door to keep them away. I wonder if the post office will deliver?

Planes ,Trains and Automobiles - otherwise known as Birds, Bats and Pack Rats

haiku

swifts building their nest
above the satellite dish
they’re on my wavelength

There is much bird activity this year with all the rain and plenty of vegetation around the house. The bluebirds hatched their brood and were cleaning out the nest under the eaves for another, when they were rudely interrupted. A pair of aggressive little wrens moved into their nest and drove them away. I couldn't believe my eyes, but went to the Internet and sure enough wrens are known to be aggressive especially with cavity-nesting birds, such as bluebirds. They will even go in and smash their eggs. I nicknamed them "the avian terrorists"! I hope that my bluebirds will return next spring; meanwhile I am wondering how to trap and move wrens? An interesting new project!

Yesterday morning there was a rumpus outside. I could hear a Red-Shafted Flicker squawking and another Flicker making a different song beneath his. I came to the conclusion that they were probably mating and given plenty of Flicker-sightings the past couple of days I would say they have a nest nearby.

The latest addition to the populating masses is a pair of Swifts, (I have yet to correctly ID them) that have decided to nest in a hollow ridge-log above the satellite dish. I have been meaning to fill that hollow for some time, but have had more exciting chores to take care of and never seem to get around to it. Now I will have to wait until fall. In the meantime I am waging war on other critters such as bats and pack rats.

The bats in the open ended garage, leave their nasty soiling all over the hood of my car so I tried hanging suet feeders containing cotton soaked with peppermint oil, in the rafters. But they seemed to fall blissfully asleep with that, so the next trick will be to try Balsam Fir Oil - that at least should keep the pack rats away as they do not like the smell. I just renewed the packages of Fresh Cab beneath the hood of my car. In the past pack rats wreaked havoc upon wires and hoses under the hood and left me a few nice piles of fireweed twigs. I think I prefer nesting birds!

A Perfect Summer day

summer- senyru

meadow sage spires drink from azure sky
a stella d'oro lily from sun
cat and I together

Yesterday was one of those perfect summer days that you just want to drink in with every breath and every pore of your skin.

The night before a front came through with no storm, just wind that blew hot air out and brought cool air in. The morning temperature at 51' was enervating and helped dissipate the latent heat in the walls and roof of the house after several days close to 100°.

The mosquitoes may be dying out and I was able to sit oudoors and read at last. Surrounded by peace, wren song and blooming flowers, I realized I am now on a similar path to last year's blogs so I must be careful not to repeat myself. The lollipop lilies are in bloom (July 4th 2010) and the yarrows just starting (July 6th 2010) and it would be so easy to sing their praises all over again. I treasure anything that grows in my garden in such an hot arid clime.

The only thing that changes is me. I am glad for it but at the same time yearn to turn the clock back to other summers when I was able to share all of this with Peter. But as they say in England, "No-go mate". At least I can share it with friends in my blog - thank you to all those who read it. May this lovely summer peace be yours also.

Storm Healing

daily haiku

a year of anguish
healing takes place in my heart
with mending the roof

A year ago today Peter died in the early morning hours alone. I have berated myself so much that I was not with him; have reached some healing with it, but it is a regret I'll always carry. I am comforted that my last words to him were "I love you".

We cannot know when we will lose someone, it is totally beyond our control and I certainly have to accept that. Gradually I am emerging as a new person, on my own and no longer a part of a life partnership. New partners have emerged over the past year in the form of my lovely family members, special friends and so many wonderful people and friends from my writer's groups: WyoPoets http://www.wyopoets.com/ and Wyoming Writers Inc http://www.wyowriters.org/ and the Sheridan Senior Center Writer's Group. A few members of them have access to my blog here. I want you all to know how much your cards, letters, e-mails and phone calls have meant to me over this year; you have collectively buoyed my spirits through the dark days and I am so very grateful, I love all of you in a very special way.

On July 21st last year Birney witnessed the most appalling storm any of us have ever seen - close to a tornado, probably a micro burst. It did a lot of damage to the house and garage (see blog for July 21, 2010) I am thankful to my friends Nancy, Midge & Art who advised I should get an adjuster in to look at the damage. I would not have thought of this myself. Through their caring I received compensation from insurance and this last week the roof is being replaced at last; almost a year later.

The new roof is in many ways a metaphor for the person I have become. I was shattered when I lost Peter, but have healed this past year as I have solved the myriad of problems that have cropped up each month. In effect parts of me have been torn off and re-shingled with stronger materials. The new shingles have a 50 year warranty - I don't think I have the same! But my family and friendships help me feel like I do.

Phoebes

daily haiku

phoebe sounds alarm
little phoebe fell from nest
tender care for babe

Phoebes are not exactly my favorite bird. They squawk me awake at 4.30 am and poop down the window frame - in general they are noisy and messy. However, they love to live up here on the hill. They return each year to make a nest at the top end of a rain gutter - now who the heck would nest in a rain gutter?! Small brains, large poops!

When I comb the cat I throw her hair around the yard for the birds to use as nesting material, and Phoebe caught on to the idea since, if you look at the photo, you can see the white cat hair.

This morning she was flitting round the garden giving more than her share of soulful cries,and I noticed through the bathroom window a baby bird sitting on the bench where I keep some outdoor tools. I thought it fell out of the nest, went outdoors and picked it up whereupon it took flight and landed in the rain barrel! Poor wee timorous beastie! I rescued it and put it back on the bench figuring if it can fly that far it is leaving the nest and I need not try to devise a plan how to put it back in.

So I used it as my photo model for the day, and it was most obliging as I clicked away. The rest of rehab for it was to keep the cat indoors as long as possible to give it time to find it's wings. Sure enough it was gone by noon and Snowy went out to get her daily ration of fresh catnip.

I suppose I can count on that bird to come back and nest again next spring - wake me with raucous cries and go on pooping down my window frame. The cost of a soft heart.

The Nursery

daily haiku

plants spawn their seedlings
a little nurturing touch
then leave to nature

I had a place in the garden where not much was growing. It was a place where our underground fuel tank was once located. We had to have it removed because of Government rules and regs. It is fairly dry and weedy but it has found a niche, as a nursery of sorts, for growing new plants. Each fall I cut the dead heads from the few flowers that survive here despite the heat and drought, and throw them on the ground in the nursery. This year with plentiful rain I have a nice selection of Meadow Sage, Yarrows and Gaillardias to transplant into the flower beds

I identify with the nursery in many ways. A year ago I lost Peter; although I knew I would survive, I had no idea that I would have to face so many crises and need to learn so many skills to survive living in this beautiful place. When I was widowed at thirty years, I was able to adapt a lot faster. The house was relatively new having been moved here in 1955, so all the equipment functioned and the cost of furnace fuel was somewhere around 40c a gallon! Close to the end of my sixtieth decade I am not as fast or as fit neither is the house! I was thrown into the nursery of life and left to grow. I am grateful that I have been given so much nurture by friends and family, I would not have made it this far without them, but in the end you face the grief and regrowth alone.

As I triumph over each crisis, a flower bud grows in me, and now I feel like I am almost a new plant. The same stock that brought me to this place is there, but my roots and stem have had to change and adapt to survive the storms. With each new task I undertake comes a new awareness of myself and appreciation of each little accomplishment.

I do not know whether I will stay in our little town, but I plan to stay another winter, go dormant as it were, and see whether I can flower again next spring.

Nothing I could write can describe these clouds

June Lilacs

haiku

lilacs scent my world
june goes to my head like love
overwhelms senses

This is one blog to which I would like to add one of those "scratch and sniff" cards!

What a wonderful time of year this is, there are lilacs in full bloom everywhere. As I walk through our little town the aroma pervades the air - sometimes lightly sometimes when near the trees they take over my smell entirely. The Post Office has two bushes by the door, a white and a purple planted in the same hole - sight and smell together. The old teacherage is abloom in purple, Clara has a hedge of purples in her back yard; her grandson Elliot next door has some that abut the street and the new teacherage has them in front.

My white lilac is outside the bedroom window and to open it at night scents me into dreamland. This morning I remembered a poem that I wrote a few years ago, "Pruning the Lilac" - and it brought back wonderful memories of Peter and me working together in the early spring.

Pruning The Lilac
Together we prune the lilac,
Dead branches from last summer’s drought
As I trim
Brown twigs
Fall down inside my shirt,
Into cleavage
Stick in me as I move.
He takes the more strenuous role
With the saw, and manages to scratch
Hand and arm
And him
On Coumadin,
So he bleeds all over shirt
Pants and deck.
We take a break
Bind wounds,
Then go at it again,
Finish the cutting.
The lilac bleeds in silence.

© C. Valentine

The Big Rain

daily haiku

rains came for a week
heavy flooding mayhem roads closed
hidden treasure green

It's been quite a week - I am happy that I live in Birney and on a hill. Last weekend heavy rains started and continued for almost the whole week. The leaks resulting from last July's storm were active but not too bad (as yet). On Monday all roads were closed - a good time not to have a medical emergency; the road to Sheridan opened on Tuesday and by Thursday all roads were passable once more.

All around SE Montana flooding hurt people and homes, the Crow Tribe was badly hit and there are now National Guard helping there. National Guards are also in Roundup where the Busy Bee cafe is under water and most of the town as well. The Busy Bee is a community hub. Neighbors meet there to have a cup of Joe and exchange news - Bill Clinton held court there when he was running for 2nd term presidency, so without it there is no place to commiserate with each other over all that has occurred in the floods.

Here in Birney the river is very high and water is now pouring over the old spillway at the Tongue River reservoir. There is a second spillway that will take extra water for a one-hundred-year flood - hope it does not come into use! However with temps forecast to go to 80's this week, there may be snow melt pounding down Goose Creek and into the Tongue River causing more difficulties.

Life is never dull here on the hill and a lot of my thinking and writing often revolves around the weather. I suppose it'll be mosquito season by the end of the week!

Birds life

daily haiku

thunderstorms and rain
unfamiliar bird appears
a gift from the storm?

Spring is slow, cool, and rainy here on the hill. Over the weekend the sun was out and we had lovely days. "Sitting outside weather," I thought - but no such luck; the wind battered the hill for 2 days at 20-40 mph. Everything that was not tied down rattled and clanked, but amazingly, I did not find any damage. This has been followed by thunderstorms and rain. The roads are sloppy and the days are dismal.

However the bird life is entertaining me. The bluebird in the photos above is nesting under the eaves. Mrs Bluebird gets out to stretch her legs and wings now and then, but since I don't hear any little cheeps as yet, she is still keeping the eggs warm most of the time. Their nest is above the ceiling to the left of my computer, and as the chicks get larger they create quite a racket upon the arrival of grubs and insects - delightful to hear.

Goldfinches and purple finches are around, along with lark sparrows, robins, and chickadees. This morning I had a special treat. As I drew open the bedroom curtains I saw a small black bird with orange/red chest and bars on wing and tail. A first. It took a while but I finally found it at http://www.whatbird.com/ a great site for finding unkown birds. It was an American Redstart - I have not seen it here before - what a treat. So spring may not be cooperating with me, but the birds are holding down the fort!

Sprouting

daily haiku

trees sprout baby leaves
blossoms are not far behind
spring pulls at my heart

In between storms we are having warm days, and trees and perennials are beginning to open. Even the honeysuckle tree that Ben and I severely pruned last fall, that I thought might be dead, is putting out new sprouts. The next task I have to do for it is one that I hate - treating it with systemic insecticide. Necessary because the ladybirds took off and didn't complete the job of cleaning up the aphids.

I am sprouting too. Torn between holding onto the sharp clear memories of Peter along with its pain, or moving forward into a newer less painful life. Actually I don't think I have much choice. Life is giving me my own spring purging.

Lilac in bud

Gregii tulips showing

daily haiku

a quiet morning
peaceful along the valley
mist enshrouds new buds

Despite the grey days there are signs of spring creeping in. Crested wheat is showing in front of the porch and around the house. The tree buds are swelling, and tulip bulbs have burst through the soil with moisture from snow and rain.

Years ago I planted some red tulip bulbs in a flower bed. The bulbs faded out over several years. But among them was a lone yellow tulip - an ugly duckling so to speak. It survived and blooms every year. Today I saw the leaves once again showing up for yet another spring. It's survival instinct is strong.

I too have shown up for another year. In January and February I really didn't care if I was here or not - I just survived each day. However like the yellow tulip - I think I am ready to show up each day and blossom. I am, as I recently told a friend, "getting comfortable in my skin." I am not sure where that phrase originated but it seems to fit the way I feel of late. Maybe I'll wear my yellow Lands End sweater tomorrow!

Lincoln, Democracy, and the Arab World

I was talking to a friend yesterday about poetry. He said he considers Lincoln's Address At Gettysburg to be a beautiful poem. Being brought up in Britain and not taught any American history beyond the Boston Tea Party (!) I had not read it. I did read it and beyond it's place in our history, I find it interesting to contemplate in terms of what is happening in the Arab world.

Lincoln's Address At Gettysburg

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us —that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

For the workers of TEPCO Fukushima Daichi Reactors who are unselfishly giving their life and health each day to save others how can we express our gratitude to you except to pray for your success.

pray for endurance
for the people of japan
hope dignity wisdom

WYSIWYG-s

haiku

rock scissors paper

an age-old game people play

I like the rock best

I have been thinking about my friendships and the people I love in this life and what I admire and respect the most, in them all, is WYSIWYG. A computer term to be sure, but one that I like to apply to people. Wysiwyg-s are genuine, they pull no punches, they can tell you what they think honestly but with kindness. They are authentic, sincere and open. Their friendship is to be valued among gems; as my late husband would say, "they are a diamond in a bed of coal."

If you are reading this you are a wysiwyg - I would not have given you access to my blog otherwise. I value the place you all have in my life and want you to know that. In the words of the song, "Stay as sweet as you are, don't let a thing ever change you."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3UEk2axNUw

(WYSIWYG = what you see is what you get)

Supermoon Reflections

sunday haiku

supermoon sinks low
with orange glow of morning
cloud wisp waves goodbye

A lot of fuss in the press about the supermoon. Cloud covered it for most of the evening on Saturday but I did get a peek as I went to bed; without my specs it was fuzzy and somewhat insignificant. However, when I got up on Sunday morning it was setting off to the west and against the navy blue sky it was ethereal and exquisite. I grabbed my camera and went outside in the cold to get some photos.

One of the things about the moon that I love is, wherever we are, we know that those we love are looking at the same moon and it connects us by a thin thread. As my dear friend Lorrin Walker once said, we are attached to those we love, heart to heart, by a thin thread.

Certainly I have a lot of thin threads going out to the japanese people in the form of prayer. In a few moments many of them had their life changed forever. I may hurt with my grief, but I am thankful for my home and familiar things around me for comfort; the tsunami victims do not have either home or family in many cases. Surviving children may be unidentifiable as to who they are. My heart goes out to them.

pray for endurance

for the people of japan

enormous sadness

Middlemarch Warmth

daily haiku

as ice melts ground shows

plants respond to the sun's warmth

my mind and body too

Several days in the 50's and the ice melts on the rivers and creeks; maybe my winter depression will melt away along with it, I sure hope so. The crested wheat grass popped up in the last few days, and if we have rain, the Stars of Bethlehem will show up too - such a lovely harbinger of spring.

The roads are drying out and I am able to drive anywhere I want to again - the only problem being that my brain still has a winter mindset, and I have yet to fully realize the freedom I now have.

The warm weather is bringing insects and animals out once more. A raccon decimated the bird feeder, and as I was sitting outdoors after lunch something tickled my arm pit and I found a young bumblebee there! I managed to get rid of it without being stung. Later I was the subject of numerous "fly-by's" from a couple of early wasps that seemed very interested in my embroidery!

But the real measure of warmth - Snowy the cat napping on her back flaunting her white furry underside. Hmm....I am happy she has been neutered.