Thursday, October 2, 2014

Why do I wait...

Why do I wait for the last few days of warmth to winterize
The jet ski, the lawnmower, 
The ATV's, the wardrobe.  Especially the wardrobe.

I've nearly waited too long...and now it seems like a rushed job.
In the last hours of summer warmth, the trailer bed got a another
                              coat of  linseed oil,
As did the patio swing.  I hauled in wood. I coiled up hoses.

Oh Summer, do you have to move south so soon?
The recent rains are washing away all your footprints.  
I suppose the Australians are anxiously awaiting your arrival.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Lacy mitt

One mitt is nearly completed, and it fits.  I think I'll wait to finish the thumb when the other mitt is knit.  I like the pattern, and I'm getting a big dose of orange as I knit.  All good.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Early bird gets the...seeds?

The Chuckers have returned.  I saw them descend on my property last fall for the first time.  And they're baaaack.  What are they eating??  Some kind of seeds? I can't imaging what would draw them to this sagebrush bench, away from irrigated fields.  But they are here, daily, for about a week.  
Over the hill they go.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Yellow woods...

I can't help myself.  When I see yellow woods, I immediately think of Robert Frost's poem, "The Road Not Taken."  Frost used themes in nature to share great insights into human behavior, choices, and rituals.  I supposed I liked this piece from the time I was taught it, because I liked the idea that we sometimes stick to tough or unpopular or goal-oriented decisions, despite the uncertainty and entanglements that seem to await and challenge our progress.  But when we've taken "the road less traveled," it often makes "all the difference."  These paths, these experiences, were the very ones that helped expose latent talents... or untapped courage... or friendships you never expected.

It appears Frost wrote this poem in 1920...  getting very close to 100 years ago.  Just goes to show...  Truth has no age.

Limestone Road

Robert Frost (1874–1963).  Mountain Interval.  1920.
1. The Road Not Taken
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;        5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,        10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.        15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.        20

Friday, September 26, 2014

Sighting Autumn near South Pass

Thanks, Lyle, for the leaf-peeping tip.  I had to go to Lander one day this week, and my plan was to extend the day into some picturing-taking opportunities.  I knew that would pretty much "shoot" the day, but what what the heck.  Everything else could wait.  

When Autumn waltzes through, you've got to be ready to dance.  Or, you'll be sitting, like a wallflower, either silently reprimanding yourself for not having more fortitude to get up and involved, or feeling sorry for your self-inflicted predicament.  I prodded myself, "Come on girl, let's shake a leg." 

After leaving Lander, I started climbing the pass, and sure enough,... there she was.  Her costumes were lit-up by the sun's rays and scattered here and there, as if she'd left them drop behind her,  enticing you to follow. 

 I don't know how she did it, but every garment appeared to be beaming in brilliant hues from its own internal light source. 

The occasional breezes sent her scarves and skirts spinning. 
  I was riveted by her showy costuming... and delighted to watch her nature-choreographed movement.

She's a spectacular performer, if you can catch the show.

I drove down Limestone Mt. Road... stopping repeatedly to capture caches of color.  It was glorious.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Better than TV

Sometimes the drama at the bird-feeder is better than TV. 

Ring-necked Dove decided she wanted to perch at a table for two, but to dine alone.  You know how a girl can want a little alone-time if the morning schedule has been particularly grueling, everyone vying for her attention and expecting her to accomplish the impossible with too little time and too few resources.  She was only asking for 15 minutes, tops, to unwind and regroup.  Well, ...and treat herself to some much-needed nourishment.

Alone time?  Who was she kidding?  The winged-paparazzi were there in minutes.  First disguised as an uninterested passer-by. He wasn't terribly intrusive.  But he had to go. 

 Then another who sneaked in nearly undetected, but  was suddenly in-her-face obnoxious!   She would not tolerate it today.  She gave chase half-way round the table, and he left.  But in seconds, he returned.

 She puffed up, spread her tail, and flapped her wings in defiance of his very presence. He got the message. 

 I watched as he scampered down, up, back down,  in circles, weighing the decision to join her again.  Those flapping wings turned out to be too threatening ... and Miss Dove ... well, she made it to her next appointment on time, appearing unruffled.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Days of Gold

Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.