Do we even notice the moments
as they dissolve in the wind?
So many lifetimes.
So many souls.
Time fades yesterday’s dreams,
the pictures we see as today’s memories.
Person to person,
age to age,
seasons scatter our precious images,
leaving quiet markers to remember
tomorrow’s history.
It started in December with Secret Santa. Secret Santa gave me a plant stand, and the plant stand made me want an indoor herb garden. Granted, I’d thought about bringing my outside herbs inside in October or November. But the plants were big, too big for inside, and I only wanted the herbs, not any outdoor bugs that might come along for the ride. In any case, the end of December was too late to think about bringing my dried-up outdoor herb plants inside.
I thought you could just go on down to that store that sells lumber and paint and plants, and pick up some herbal plants. Seems like you should be able to do that, don’t you think? Not so. They had ferns and violets and philodendron, but no herbs. Not a single one. What they had was herb seeds. I’ve never done well with seeds. Outdoors, indoors…I haven’t had success with seeds. But I had a plan, and I had that Secret Santa plant stand, and the sense of resolution that comes to us all around January 1.
So now I have these seedlings. I doubt their timing is timely. But I’m still resolute, and the little plants give me hope and inspiration.
I watered them today. They’re struggling to grow green, but they’re alive and trying to reach for the sunlight…just like the rest of us.
© Etikser. All Rights Reserved.
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
Please visit my other blog, Clover & Ivy, https://cloverandivy.wordpress.com.
I post mostly nature photos there.
On a gray and cloudy January day, it’s nothing more than a desire
to picture a heavy new coat of snow, clinging to the branches
of the dogwood tree.
It was a foggy, wet, and gloomy morning last week, when five deer came by to spend the day. Their visits aren’t unusual. This time, I was working at the computer upstairs when I noticed them standing, rather oddly, staring back into the trees. Two, at first, then a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. They were all standing fairly motionless and seemed to be looking in the same direction. Soon afterwards, they began wandering, as I’d expect, nibbling on whatever food morsels they find on a cold, not-quite-frozen morning. Not much later, I saw one, and then another, bend and lower its front legs, and bring itself to a resting position on wet leaves in the back part of the yard. I’ve seen them do this on hot summer afternoons too, in the ivy, in the same area, but the shady bed of soft, cool ivy on a muggy July afternoon seems more appealing than the soaked cushion of wet, leathery oak leaves on a cold December morning.
They spent much of the day in the yard as I moved downstairs to work in the kitchen, and they were close enough, it would seem, to be aware of me through the nearby windows. They nibbled on what they could find, they chased each other, and they rested, not far away, as I busied myself with a new recipe.
Deer shouldn’t be so comfortable around people, but the unfortunate reality is humans continually reduce the availability of larger wooded areas, while deer need to scavenge for nourishment. They still move with the agility and strength of the wild, and yet their appearance is gentle and unthreatening, and their nearby presence brings something like a mutual recognition. It’s probably not the way it should be, nevertheless, one can do worse on a cold, wet, December day than to look out and enjoy the company of five deer nearby.
© Etikser. All Rights Reserved.
All photos and images here are my own.
They may not be used elsewhere or reblogged.
Please visit my other blog, Clover & Ivy, https://cloverandivy.wordpress.com.
I post mostly nature photos there.
An evening out back, in the dark, to cover plants. Surrounded by whatever’s left of ragged plants that have given their all, and the smell of someone’s fireplace. We’re well into fall, and yet the morning glories have just started producing buds. I respect their determination, their persistence, and feel the obligation to do my part, which is to protect them from cold nights. I looked up from the task at hand, to the dark cover of tall trees, and listened, deliberately, to the quiet.
I listened for crickets, and heard none. None at all. No cricket-style ‘call and response’. Nothing. It could have been winter.
Yet, in the midst of this quiet, I hear the soft pitapat of dried leaves rustling above me. A familiar rustling. A sound tucked away from the past, not from golden leaves and autumn nights, but from ancient trees and winter days. Days at the end of a long, bitter winter, when February winds blow through lofty limbs and the scattering of leaves still hanging on huge weathered pin oaks.
I turned to step back inside, and caught the creak of a single cricket. One lone, strong-willed cricket with something left to say, calling out from somebody else’s yard, somewhere in the distance.
A single tenacious cricket, and October’s wind rustling the leaves. Fall’s whimsy.
Summer’s end is around the bend just flying
The swimming suits are on the line just drying
~ John Prine, Summer’s End ~
I want to get caught in the spirit of some idea or words and write something that feels like the ocean, like lightning in the distance, like something glorious. Like the lights that shimmer off ordinary plants after a rain.
low tide and sunset skies
etikser 