A Monday meander: Rainy respite

Early morning in the garden.

To slow down is to be taken into the soul of things.

~ Terry Tempest Williams

In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow. In an age of distraction, nothing can feel more luxurious than paying attention. And in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still.

~ Pico Iyer

Evening gathering.

It was Sunday afternoon when I sat down to sort through my photos from the weekend and to write up a Monday meander post.  I considered writing up something that would be relevant to Memorial Day (a “holiday” here in the States), but that’s neither my style nor my subject.  There are others more informed on the subject who are, no doubt, doing a fine job of describing the purpose of the day or in some way honoring it.

An evening stroll.

What’s been happening outside this weekend is more my style, more my subject.  We finally got a good dousing of rain.  It arrived on Friday night and hung around until Sunday.  We got nearly three inches of rain.  I don’t know if that made up for our rain deficit, but I do know the earth, the trees, and the plants all look so much better for having gotten a thorough soaking.

It started like this — the deer not sure about the turkey.

The rain has brought everything to life and invited those who share this land with us to come out to eat and play, and to enjoy fresh water and cooler temperatures.  If you follow me on Instagram, you might have already seen the first two photos.  The second one barely captured what was going on outside the (home) office window on Saturday evening, right after our (early) dinner time.  Everyone, it seemed, had come out from wherever they hide to eat clover, bounce and jump around on the lawn, or dive for fish.  There were bunnies galore, at least five white-tailed deer, a red fox (who ran by so quickly I almost missed him), a wild turkey or two, a great blue heron, an osprey, and plenty of other birds and critters whose names I don’t know or who managed to stay hidden in plain sight.

An approach. After which, the deer pretty much ignored the turkey.

The clover brought the deer out to eat several times throughout the day and into the evening.  Apparently the turkeys are fond of the clover, too.  Not the flowers or leaves, but the insects that hang out in the flowers and leaves.  I’ve read that the flowering clover, which was prolific after the rain, is a nutritious meal for white-tailed deer.  It offers them about 25% of the protein they need.

Chowing down.

There are not nearly as many clover flowers now as there were immediately after the rain.  The rabbits were feasting, too, and the animals did a good job of mowing the lawn for us (it’s mostly clover out front).  I’m wondering, after reading about deer and clover, if the previous owners planted clover specifically for the deer.  It’s something hunters do these days to help attract deer to their property (there is even a mix of clover seed tailored for the needs of deer).  I can’t be sure but I suspect Mr. B originally built this house as a hunting lodge.  It would explain the lack of cabinets and shelves in the kitchen when we bought it, as if he hadn’t expected to be doing much real cooking and living here.

A young buck.

Today we have been gifted with abundant sunshine, puffy white clouds racing through a brilliant blue sky, and a lovely wind to go with the cooler than usual weather.  I spent some time this morning listening to the conversation between the wind and the trees, the wind and the marsh grasses, and the birds who have been quite vocal since the rain.  The Laughing Gulls, in particular, have been chatting up a storm (and perhaps it was their chatting that brought in the rain?).  Crows, eagles, woodpeckers, and a variety of birds have been singing, talking, and whistling.

Under a cascade of flowers.

I think the conversation in nature happens in gestures, too.  The dance of wind and trees, or wind and grasses, or wind and water; the way light and shadow move through the woods or marsh, a nod from a daisy, a twitch of the ear from a rabbit.

I don’t know what these are, but they are prolific. The honeybees seem to like them and their scent is perfuming the air everywhere right now.

I read somewhere the phrase/idea that image is the mother tongue of the soul.  I’m not sure about that, but I can see how it could be possible in the way that we humans carry with us symbols, memories, dreams, and visions.  I finally finished the Spring Equinox modules for the Mandala Magic: Alignment course I am enrolled in.  I was going to skip it, having gotten behind while we were in Ohio (I didn’t want to cart all of my art journaling supplies with me and although I could have used just pencil and paper, I’ve been learning different mediums along the way and wanted to keep going in that direction).  As I finished up the last module for that time period of the Wheel of the Year, I realized that I am making up my own symbols to express myself within the container of the mandalas I’m creating.  I had been borrowing from the Celtic culture (I am exploring my roots/culture/ancestry) and from Julie, who teaches the course.

The images that come up for me now, the symbols that are not borrowed but come from within, feel like a conversation with my soul.

Iris season is almost over. This is one of the few blooms left.

I think that’s enough from me for now.  Thank you for joining me on another meander.  I appreciate your company.  Let’s check out the Point for sunset tonight.  It’s scheduled for 8:20 PM.  You will probably need a light jacket or a sweatshirt/sweater.  It’s a little cool out there today.

Please be safe, be well, and be kind.  ♥♥♥

Relaxing in the clover.

A few of the 10,000 reasons to be happy:  1,791)  As Eliza put it, I live in a wildlife park.  There is always so much to see.  1,792)  Creating a sanctuary where all the beautiful beings that live on this little bit of land feel comfortable and (I hope) safe.  1,793)  Keeping the wild in the wild.  I wouldn’t want to do anything to tame the others who live here.  1,794)  Clover, everywhere, blooming.  1,795)  M, always and forever.

We startled each other when I was out on my walk this morning.