Crocuses and sunsets

A bald eagle in flight

Eagle Poem
by Joy Harjo

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear;
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon, within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

~From In Mad Love and War. © Wesleyan University Press, 1990.

A congregation of crocuses

The crocuses are blooming in clusters this year.  Ready-made bouquets springing up randomly in places I haven’t seen them before.  As a gardener who is not a very good gardener, I had to look up whether or not crocuses will naturalize.  At least I knew that term, naturalize, from my time with daffodils and watching how they spread and grow.  It turns out that crocus bulbs do naturalize and I can look forward to seeing more of them in the future.  I’ve often thought about how pretty they would be if I planted more along the lane (driveway) and out in front of the house and maybe, oh, just everywhere.  Imagine a lawn filled with crocuses of all colors blooming in early spring.

Maybe it’s a convention of crocuses.

I went out this morning to see what there was to see.  Bald eagles and hawks have been more visible lately.  The hawks, I think, might be getting ready to move on.  Many of them winter here and go Elsewhere when the weather warms or the light changes.  I’m not really sure what it is that brings about the desire to move to another place.  The bald eagles lay their eggs in late January with an incubation time of 32-36 days.  Both parents take turns tending the eggs and nest, explaining why we don’t see them in pairs very often this time of year.

Or a crowd.

After making my way to the garden and the crocuses, I wondered why I insist on taking hundreds of photos of the crocuses every year.  How many photos does one person need?  And how many times can I post about them before it becomes boring to others?  I don’t have answers to those questions.  All I can tell you is that I will continue to go out and circle around the flowers, taking photos from all sorts of angles and perspectives, and if it ever becomes boring to me, I’ll let you know.  Year after year, they surprise me in spite of how familiar I ought to be with them.

Art in nature.  (Six days ago.)

Winter is probably not yet finished with us, but it feels very much like we’re going to have an early spring this year.  A few days after the first crocuses bloomed, we had a bitterly cold spell with blustery winds.  It lasted a few days and there was the beginning of a freeze at the edge of the sound.  The marsh grasses were covered with ice from the spray.  Of course I took a few hundred photos of that, too.  The ice is just as fascinating to me as the flowers.  Maybe more so because it isn’t something that happens every year.

Salty popsicles on the beach.

M and I have been going out to the Point regularly over the past two weeks to watch the sunset.  We even went out at sunrise one morning, the morning of the ice.  Judging by how often I invite you out to the Point for sunset, you might think we do that all the time.  We don’t.  Long periods will go by without a trip out to the Point or a walk out to the dock.  We can watch the sky change colors from our living room and although there are trees in the way, it’s still quite beautiful.

I do take note of it when it’s been a while since we’ve stirred from the house and gone out to the Point.  There is something participatory about going out to the Point.  We have to move ourselves out there, for one thing.  Make an effort (in the same way I make an effort every morning to do my yoga practice).  Sometimes, if it’s not too cold (and sometimes, even if it is), there will be others out there who have made a similar effort.  Our neighbor Lloyd is frequently there.  He was out there with us yesterday evening and when sunset had finished its show, Lloyd took us out to see another sight.  (Lloyd seems to have access to everyone’s property around here.  He’s a good man to know if you’re curious about what’s going on.)

There was a fiery sky at sunset the day there was ice on the beach.

One of the farmers, Jamie, has turned the back part of his farm fields into a series of shallow ponds.  The land is no longer good for growing crops because the flooding in recent years has left behind too much salt.  Nothing will grow except marsh grasses and other plants that can take a salty environment.

You can sort of see one of the large ponds by noticing the reflection of the fading light.

The ponds are beautiful, stretched out across the back fields, and it didn’t take long for the ducks and geese to find them.  It was getting dark so we couldn’t see a lot, but we were able to hear the geese and ducks flying in.  The honks of the geese, the whirrrr of wings, and the splash as they landed in the water.  Lloyd said there were about 300 ducks and geese out there the another night, just after sunset.  I imagine it was a sight to behold.  Word has it that there have not been as many geese and ducks in the area as in years past.  Perhaps Jamie’s ponds will entice them back.

In addition to it being a lovely evening (warm, with a good breeze) and the beauty of the ponds and fading light, I was thrilled to be close to a barn I’ve been wanting to photograph.  It’s so far from the road that I can’t get it, even with my long(ish) lens.  Because there was so little light left, I did not get a very good shot of it, but this will give you some idea of what it looks like:

An old barn.

It is a beautiful, old, red barn that Lloyd said is being allowed to age and fall.  It’s too bad they are just letting it go, but maybe there isn’t much that can be done to fix it.  I have no way of knowing.  Lloyd has offered to take me out there some day to get some better photos of it.  I’m sure I’ll take him up on that offer.

A little earlier, before we visited Jamie’s ponds.

We had a rather momentous event this week.  On Tuesday, February 7th, at 7:53 AM, our new granddaughter was born.  It is quite exciting and she is, of course, the most beautiful baby on the planet.  I can’t show you pictures (her parents prefer that the children maintain a low to nonexistent internet profile) or give out her name.  She has the cutest chipmunk cheeks so, until I meet her and she tells me her internet pseudonym, I will call her the Little Chipmunk.  I’ll probably go out to see her in a couple of weeks.  My daughter-in-law’s mother and father are with them now, helping out with the boys (the Little Wookie and the Little Peanut) and getting to know their new granddaughter.  Having too many of us underfoot would likely be more stressful so we’ll wait.  In the meantime, we’ve been receiving lots of photos and videos, and taking in her beauty through the magic of modern technology.  Isn’t that a wonderful thing when it’s used that way?

At the Point yesterday.

I reckon that’s about it from me on this warm and beautiful Friday in February.  Thank you so much for dropping by and visiting with me.  Let’s meet out at the Point for sunset this evening.  We’ve got a lot of high, thin clouds floating around and they might help to color the sky.  Sunset is scheduled for 5:36 PM.  It’s warm enough that a jacket might suffice.  I like to wear a hat, too, because sometimes the wind feels cold on my ears.  And who knows?  Maybe we’ll meet Lloyd out there again and he’ll take us on another tour of something beautiful.

Please be safe, be well, and take a little time to Just Be.

So colorful.

A few of the 10,000 reasons to be happy:  3,071)  Colorful sunrises and sunsets.  3,072)  Warm breezes in February.  3,073)  Friendly neighbors.  We are far apart when it comes to politics (which is why we avoid any mention of political things) but we are close when it comes to enjoying the natural beauty of the area.  3,074)  Crocuses, every year.  3,075)  Seeing how some of our neighbors are coping with climate change in ways that are good for the birds and other beings who live here.

A couple.