A reporter on MSNBC just called it a “fast moving Friday” on the news. The world is moving fast in the strangest directions. Everyone has their individual opinions on everything. We live in a confusing, fascinating and uneasy world.
Friday isn’t moving fast up here if I turn off the TV and the radio. I’ve been feeling like staying around the house and property. I joke a lot about country living. But the quiet of the woods is peaceful and simple. Plants and trees are starting to seed.
Poppies, sweet Williams, maples, even some of my bloomed out tulips actually have seeds left in pods after blooming. To see them you have to be patient. Sometimes I get ahead of the slow pace of nature and pull out bloomed tulips or day lilies. This year I waited. I’m glad I did.
Fires have been burning all around us. Smoke stings our eyes. We’ve been lucky. We haven’t had to evacuate our cabin. We’re told to just be on high alert. We watch out for our animals and our neighbor’s animals. The woods are dry. It’s going to be a dry dusty fall.
I’ve been spending lots of time outdoors. It’s cooling off during the evening and nights are cold already. We’ve ordered wood for the stove. Birds are everywhere. So are frogs.
The frogs at night sometimes drown out the noise of the TV. The birds love our little outdoor fountain and the big dusty dirt piles near our barn. Bathing is part of their Friday. They fly from water to dust and back. I’ve been seeing pileated woodpeckers eating bugs on the trees. The fires on Mount Adams seem to be driving them east. They are big, over 16 inches long, and their feathers are black, white and red. I chase after them with a camera trying to be quiet. They seem to sense me no matter what.
My animals are quiet and follow me from place to place as I try and take some pictures. Berry is very happy to be outside after falling from the rafters in the barn and having to make a trip to the vet. She lost hair on her tail and now looks very much like a poodle. Cody loves his walks. Sometimes we’ll walk for an hour and not see a car or a person.
We found a nest on our walk yesterday. I think it belonged to a robin because of the mud ring around the top. It had blown out of some high trees. I have heard that nests that fall are just part of the natural selection. The bird that builds the best nest wins.
by William Stafford
Of a summer day, of what moves
in the trees.
Of your own departing. Of that branch
no one elses notices.
Of time, what it carries, the sideways
drift of it.
Of hiding important things because they don’t belong in the world.
Of now. Of maybe. Of something
different being true.