7.25.15 What a day for a daydream

7.25.15 How fortunate to be of an age

How fortunate to be of an age, where the idle chatter of the mind is recognized as just that, and allowed to simply pass on by.

7.25.15 Side by side

Gathered everlastings, that retain their magnificent form and color.  Destined to be sachet ingredients, to be combined with aromatic herbs, to brighten and fill with scent the dark cold winter days.

When my first born was 4, we bought a house in the middle of Montague, a three family, complete with an old barn, a tunnel between house and barn, and a remarkable woman who became a tenant.

She was bed-bound, with progressed cancer, and my young one and I would go bring her her dinner in the evenings, and sit to say hello. I think she was my age now, for the most part alone in the world, save two busy siblings, and would spend her days quietly in her living room, abed, watching the world live and breathe out her wide  front windows.

Eventually, my child and I would go out and gather her flowers, dry them, and then he would sit and make sachets with her. We'd go to tag sales, and collect small bowls and containers for the two of them to carefully place their fragrant creations in, and give as gifts. His friends at birthday parties looked at him twice, when his enthusiastic gift was this fragrant bundle, but he made many converts.

At night, I'd go collect him, and find him sitting by her side, as they watched the summer sunset, talking over their days.

7.24.15 I just imagine them saying things

There's a field of Sunflowers, on Bay Road, that has caught the eye, and cameras, of our fine citizens here. In the early morning, all blossoms are ardently leaning toward the rising sun. So much like faces, my mind runs a continual stream of silly comments, as I drive by the loads of cars pulled over, people gazing at the hundreds of blossoms, clicking away.

I just imagine them saying things like, "Don't look now, but...HEY! I told you not to look!" , or 'When is this show supposed to start?" or ' Who do we have for a speaker tonight?" or "When we start dancing, which way do you want to go?". In the meantime, the field of flowers is simply being their inimitable selves, in their perfectly good summer's day.

Sometimes I stop, get out and stand there, by the zillions of plants whose faces turn all day, wondering how it is that happens more so with these, than others. 

Camera in hand, I wander down near the field, next to the beautiful 7' plants, taking it all in, the proximity, their strength and beauty.

You begin wanting to take a shot of the whole deal, but like much in life, it simply doesn't cut it. Tough to capture the feel of the place, it all becomes lost in the vast expanse of field and sky. 

But today, as I stand next to quite a number of people, the skies are a stunning violet, a gorgeous juxtaposition to the blossoms and deep green of the plants. You can see the dark cool earth beneath them, with entire universes of communities within.

The person next to me, with a huge fancy camera, says "Too bad it's so dark". I turn to him, and say "It's harder to take a shot when it's real light, like mid-day. The early morning has more shadows and nice contrast. Today is perfect for me. The purple sky, the intermittent light. I like to capture the blossoms and the sky up close, to bring it in."

He glances at me, getting it. Smiles, says something polite. I shrug, go in closer for a nice time with the plants in the damp happy field, all growing beautifully in our summer, here.
I climb out, say goodbye to everyone, and head to the car, as the guy looks my way, and then scoots down into the field, to take the shot.

7.24.15 It's 10:30 pm, down by the Eagle Sanctuary, the half moon rising up

It's 10:30 pm down by the Eagle Sanctuary, the half moon rising up ,illuminating the tall tall corn that fills the fields by the side of the road. As golden clouds pass by, and quickly, stars shine through now and again, and the evening breeze finally begins to move the oppressive damp heat on out from this part of town.

7.20.15 I keep forgetting, and then remembering again

I keep forgetting. , and then remembering again, that the most helpful way of alleviating what is really hard right now...is to practice staying in the present. 

I keep remembering, over and over , to redirect myself back , as I veer to thoughts on past moments, or discover myself absorbed in anticipating the future. 

And then it happens, again . Whatever is really tough right now , or most possibly to come , I find myself more versatile, with more solid ease. Until I forget once again.

 

7.23.15 Beam me up, Scotty

7.24.15 I came upon the sun and it's light

On our way down into town for a dog stroll among the sleeping old farmhouses and already hard working field-hands,

I came upon the sun and it's light, dancing past the breeze-blown leaves of this luscious mid summer, 

the heavy mist roiling through the forest, 

the bright road lines pulling the way. 

Had to stop, really, and take the moment in; 

the fresh damp air on my skin, 

the scent of the forest and stream pulsing past,

the wildlife calling and wandering about , 

making their way in their busy lives. 

All of it right there,for each of us, filling us with a sense of our day.

7.24.15 The dark neighbor's fiddle

 

I spent my early 20s in the tiny Vermont town of Brattleboro

where wild raging counterculture was the order of the day

Bluegrass and string bands predominated

and we customarily fell asleep in our shared third floor walk up

subsumed by the thick hot summer's night air

taken by the pleading tones of some dark neighbor's fiddle

7.24.15 The morning arrived, immersed in a thick soup fog

This morning arrived, immersed in a thick soup fog, spiraling along the range, lifting up out of the forest, streaming down the Connecticut. The Elecampagne stretched toward the skies, as the Hummingbirds darted about, and the myriad of baby birds clambered on Valerian for their breakfast treats.