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Wherelings, whenlings
(daughters of if-but, offspring of hope-fear, sons of unless and children of almost),
never shall guess the dimensions of him
whose each foot likes the here of this earth
whose both eyes love this now of the sky.
endlings of isn’t shall never begin
to begin to imagine how
Him whose each foot likes the here of this earth
Him whose both eyes love this now of the sky.
(only are shall be were
Dawn dark rain snow rainbow
and a moon ‘ s whisper in sunset
Thrushes toward dusk among whippoorwills
or
tree field rock hollyhock forest brook
Chickadee
Mountain. Mountain)
Why-coloured worlds of because
Do not stand against yes
Which is built by forever and sunsmell.
(sometimes a wonder of wild roses sometimes)
with north
over
the barn.
e.e. cummings
20/50
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Mystic River Dance’s Annual show is Saturday, February 2, 2019 at the Buckman Performing Arts Center at 7 pm. Tickets are $15 in advance, or $20 at the door. Please join us as we celebrate the beauty of the Earth, sky, fire, wind, and sea! Nature’s Rhythms will feature performances from local dancers and feature belly dance, Odissi, fantasy and fusion artists. Isidora Hart is our guest star and she will be teaching two workshops on Sunday.
Family and friends – let me know if you’re coming so I can save you an advanced ticket.
“People don’t know how to make a leaf, but they know how to destroy one.”
–Hope Jahren
Have you ever wondered what secrets the trees are telling each other deep beneath the ground with their intertwined roots? If not, please read this book and enlarge your perspective. Hope Jahren is a scientist who has made a respectable career out of playing in the dirt. She’s my hero for that. Her memoir, Lab Girl, is infused with her love of science, sunshine, soil and seeds. It features funny and highly entertaining tales of her travels and misadventures in academia and the band of misfits she loves along the way.
My electronic archives have been neglected this year as I took a turn back to the old ways, to relish the dying art of handwriting and its ancient tools, and to savor the privacy, tangibility, focus and flow that these tools afford.
For some reason, this seems like a good time to share a gratuitous picture of a turtle I met this year. Or maybe she’s not so gratuitous. Maybe she was a little spirit companion meant to remind me the value of slowing down, grounding, and seeking solitude.
But I didn’t come here today to share turtle pictures. I wanted to show you one of my most prized possessions — a garden journal my sister made for me.
She calls it a “junk journal,” though I don’t think that’s a fitting description. Every single page is embellished with awesomeness.
There are all sorts of nooks and folds in which to tuck notes, thoughts, dreams, and ideas. And she stocked it with seeds, charms, a vial of dandelion fluff upon which to make wishes, and all sorts of magic.
And these pictures do not even begin to do it justice.
With this journal I am a garden wizard! Next year, I should be able to grow a beanstalk to climb to find the goose who lays golden eggs.
It makes me happy.
The video below is her doing a complete flip-through of the journal in case you’re interested:
And if you want to see the other journals she’s created (e.g., Murder on the Orient Express), here’s a link to her channel:
Recycled by Skattur
Spark
Kyuga
Frazzle Tazzle
Fury, Defender of Tomatoes
Fay with a Grasshopper
The fish in the creek said nothing. Fish never do. Few people know what fish think about injustice, or anything else.
–Ursula K. Le Guin
“And can all the flowers talk?”
~Alice, Through the Looking Glass
“The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.”
–John Muir
