Bloodroot on the Appalachian Trail

Spending time in the woods yesterday reminded me of yet another Mary Oliver poem: ‘How I go to the woods’.

Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.

I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.

If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.

… bloodroot!

Soft mornings

There is magic in quiet mornings. Mary Oliver sums it up in one of my favorite poems, ‘Softest of Mornings’. (Okay, every poem Mary Oliver ever wrote is my favorite…)

Softest of mornings, hello.
And what will you do today, I wonder,
to my heart?
And how much honey can the heart stand, I wonder,
before it must break?

This is trivial, or nothing: a snail
climbing a trellis of leaves
and the blue trumpets of flowers.

No doubt clocks are ticking loudly
all over the world.
I don’t hear them. The snail’s pale horns
extend and wave this way and that
as her fingers-body shuffles forward, leaving behind
the silvery path of her slime.

Oh, softest of mornings, how shall I break this?
How shall I move away from the snail, and the flowers?
How shall I go on, with my introspective and ambitious life?

Moon and birds

I took my new zoom lens out for its first spin during an early morning moonrise. I quickly learned variable aperture = learning curve. The sun was coming up so I only had a few minutes to get set up. I am definitely looking forward to more moon shooting in the near future.

Here are some birdie-in-the-yard shots. Bird photography = another learning curve. They like to move. : )