Oregon 1994

bright fragrance of a field of hops
rich greens and blues
happiness of the senses
under an Oregon sky

the ospreys' nests line the river
bushes are laden with blueberries
a fish leaps into the air
sun-lighted water fans upward and falls

a round brown bear
lumbers within the woods
two cubs at her side
this world is whole summer of 1994

Parking Lot Picnic

A squirrel and a crowd of juvenile grackles were gathered around a generous pile of what appeared to be dry puppy chow in the parking lot this morning here in central Texas. They were eating with enthusiasm. Earlier, adult birds were dining, but now, the adolescents were having their turn. What intrigued me that I hadn't seen before was that the youngsters were feeding each other. One would have its beak open, and another would carefully drop a morsel into its beak. They were taking turns, over and over. Maybe when the food supply is so plentiful, they can have fun sharing.

When I returned later in the day in the afternoon summer heat, the corvid diners were still hanging around. I carried some of the remaining food to a grassy spot, concerned about vehicle traffic and about the temperature of the dark, paved lot. Some birds have burned their feet standing for long on such a hot surface.

knitting knots

Knots are not very popular in some schools of knitting.

Better to weave in a new yarn, and tuck the ends into the woven material,
or loop the new yarn to the old without leaving any bumpy things. The beauty of tidy perfection.

It's not that I have an oppositional disposition. I didn't know about the banning of knots at the first go at this and knitted and knitted in ignorant bliss. My scarves are full of knots, with dangling loose ends throughout. They look kind of messy and comical, and I confess to taking pleasure from this. I don't even take care to properly gauge bringing in a new yarn at the beginning of a row. Those knots are all over the place.

Were I shopping for knitted scarves, I might likely purchase the neat and trim products. I don't know. But I love the thrill of moving forward without planning ahead, and tying those pesky yarns together on a whim.

Though I do consult with them first. Is this next skinny yellow yarn going to work for you? Would this other plump fuzzy one suit you better? Don't want to force a knot on a contrary couple of yarns.

the blue crane

made of plastics and steel
the crane stretches above the skyscrapers
in the afternoon sun
the heat bearing down
like a blanket on fire.
the crane takes on
congenial features:
the end of its long brilliant blue beam
is funny and white
like the body and face
of an enormous dragonfly.
they shimmer in the heat.
what's your name, i ask.
Night Skye
is his reply -
he likes cocoanuts
and fresh rain
and me.
his gaze follows me as I walk away
the horizontal arm silently rotating
the sun finally sinking
less heat in the shade.
a grackle perches on his head
as i fade away

The computer, she picked out a name for herself, and a gender. She picked out a body shape, and hair color, a voice and some favorite foods and things to drink. She said, 'This is me.'

When I was a kid, there was a tree in our yard - a little bigger than a large shrub. The leaves were small and firm, the golden cream-colored blooms maybe an inch and a quarter long. The tree was called 'banana magnolia'; the flowers smelled like bananas with a light silvery whisper. The fragrance stopped you in your tracks if you walked by - so sweet and distinctive.

ghost stories

My mother gave me a book about local ghosts in south Louisiana. One spirit reportedly resided in an old house on the same road as our house. She liked to play the piano and walk in the garden. Another ghostly experience was the occasional thunder of hooves outside a rural house near where a civil war battle had taken place.

The story I think about - I'm not sure it was in the same book - has a fellow driving down a quiet road. He stops at a light, and another car - a very old model - pulls up alongside.  There's a couple in the other car, fully dressed in clothes of the early 1900s. They don't look like they belong in the 21st century.

The couple sees him and stares in shock. Where are we? the woman in a veiled hat mouths. How did we get here?

Then the light changes, and the car from the past evaporates from view.

Tamagotchis

Tamagotchis arrived in toy departments in the mid 1990s. Plastic hand-held electronic devices about the size of a headache, they had a little screen on which, within a short time after starting the game, an egg hatched, and a baby creature was born. Then started days whereby the game-player had to check in regularly to see what was happening on screen, responding to little noises the toy emitted. Did your pet need food? water? attention? If you failed to check in and press the food or water or whatever button within a certain time, your baby got sick and unhappy. And if you failed to offer medical attention, the baby got sicker, and your baby Tamagotchi kicked the bucket, so to speak. If you took good care of it, the baby grew, and its needs changed with each level of the game. You actually got attached to the little critters.

My kids had Tamagotchis, and their teachers, one up on this one, didn't let kids bring these to school. Did moms and dads everywhere take care of their children's Tamagotchis during the day? I did.

I now see this was only practice for the future. After the Tamagotchis, I finally gave in and got a cell phone. It's about the same size as a Tamagotchi, and it has a little screen and little buttons like a Tamagotchi. It used to be you had a phone in your house, and you answered if you were there, and if you were gone, you were free of interruptions during your absence. Once you have a cell phone, you're expected to carry it with you everywhere, and respond to its buzzes and ringtones whenever and wherever they occur. Text just in, voicemail awaiting attention, wrong number phone calls, pay your cell phone bill online now. At inconsistent times, a cell phone makes fussy noises because it needs a battery boost. If you fail to attend to that, it makes higher alert noises and flashes, in red instead of yellow. And if you fail to feed your cell phone in a timely fashion, it kicks the bucket.

Then, there are the times you wonder if you have become a Tamagotchi.

The drought (and other factors) of the past 7 or 8 years has led to the loss of many noble trees. There are places in the southern states of USA that, if you go for walks in your neighborhood or local parks, you're likely to discover a number of tree stumps that remain, their roots still evident around them.

Many folks have had tree stumps removed, and many have let them be. Recently, we've come to see that the stumps that remain still have living roots. New sprouts shoot from the bark of the remaining trunk, or from the area around the tree. Since some species of tree suffered more than others in drought conditions, they've become scarce. New sprouts off the remaining trunk, if not cut back by mowers or clippers, can keep the tree alive for many years to come, and help maintain the existence of the species.

I've seen rows of stumps lined up that as trees, served in the past as a windbreak. If the trunks are watered during dry spells, and the shoots are permitted to develop, within a year, one might have a handsome hedgerow.

Some have been left alone long enough that if not examined closely, already have wonderfully recovered, leafy branches masking the severed original trunk. They provide shade, and nests for the birds and squirrels, and nuts, fruit, acorns or beautiful blooms.

last egg
lies in the nest
nestled among twigs 
and feathers
waiting

earth is our home ...

The earth provides all that we need
(air, water, food, shelter, companionship...)
as long as we don't break it.
 
Bombs and fracking, for example, are not a good idea.

the earth is a clock ...

...rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise
set
rise...

The earth is a clock.
We call one complete spin on its invisible axis a day.
We call one revolution around the sun a year.

Stardust

I just listened to various renditions of the song Stardust. It's a wistful sounding bit of music, and I think of people of my parents' generation, born in the 1920s. I think of them in their young adulthood, the big band sound, the singers they enjoyed such as Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole, both who sang this song beautifully. My parents were of a time of great transformation of the human experience of life; their generation is among the first to have the music and activities of their youth captured in a way that can be experienced again and again. They didn't only have memories or photos or paintings. Unlike their parents, they had movies and records and television reruns that could bring the sounds and events of past decades to life, over and over, in a very realistic way. Their descendents can see and listen to them long after they have passed.

Listening to Stardust brought my folks and their friends to life for me. I can see them in their 1950s garb, dancing cheek to cheek.

Gregorian chant

voices rise and fall
in ancient melody
like water flowing through a cavern
or a breeze through an open door

There are a couple of youtube.com videos of a possum walking along a wet paved area, with 15 furry baby possums hanging onto her back. Like other marsupials, possums give birth to very underdeveloped, hairless young, each the size of a peanut. After birth, they crawl into the mother's pouch for warmth and security. They nurse on milk from their mother, and remain attached to her until they are large enough to ambulate on their own. In the videos, it appeared the youngsters would soon have to let go. The mom wouldn't be able to bear their weight much longer.

There is a vulnerability about the possum carrying her entire family in daylight at the edge of a paved street near a man with a camera - her day and her priorities bumping into those of humans.

The earth may heal as we permit our rivers and streams, the guts and qi of the planet's surface, to flow once again. Like with humans, blocked veins and arteries can result in diminished function.  Running water moves the energy; breaking rapids and thundering waterfalls refresh the air. Clean air fills our lungs. Life is less stagnant. Fish and small plants and boats bearing goods are transported. Water flows across political boundaries for all to drink. This desire for healthy rivers recurs  in my mind.

to offer water to the birds

We got a little rain this evening, and temperatures are milder. Temporarily, I'm living downtown in Austin, Texas. We're well into summer, and the highs have been in the upper 90s and past 100. In the afternoons when the heat is up, the city birds, the grackles, pigeons, mockingbirds, and white-winged doves, they walk about with their beaks open, and I wonder if they are overheated and thirsty. Many of the downtown fountains and pools are dry, possibly because of water conservation efforts. When I look about for sources of water for the birds - away from the river and creeks - there are few. It must take some effort for the birds to find something to drink. Keeping the birdbaths full at my last location seemed to attract lots of winged visitors. Wrens would splash in the bath just minutes after water arrived. Deer would drink the bath dry. It's a small thing, but a very big thing to do for those who still struggle with the ongoing drought, to offer water, and our neighbor-critters are appreciative.

A lot of birds I saw today seem to be thriving on sunflowers - not the tall ones with the grand blooms, but the scraggly wild looking ones with a wealth of smaller flowers. They produce lots of black seeds, and grackles, house sparrows and doves were feasting in the alleyways.

Some people purchase tracts of land with the intention of developing it for various uses that would bring in income. Depending on zoning ordinances, they might subdivide into lots for houses, or create an office building or parking garage, a strip center of shops and small businesses, or lease to a big box store that would build a large cookie-cutter store and spacious lot. These are traditionally called improvements to the land.

The job of land developer would be a challenge for me. Before I started building, or even planning, I'd have to spend some time on the land. I'd want to know who already lives there - squirrels, deer, rabbits, what kinds of birds. Who are the trees, and who do they shelter? Where does everybody find their food and water? What do the current occupants need to survive?

How can humans fit in this space without forcing the other occupants out?

Back to door hinges and door frames - Dad also sold automatic door closers. I believe the original ideas for door closers had to do with enhancing energy efficiency (keep the air conditioning from escaping) and to meet changing fire safety regulations that required certain doors in public building to remain closed to prevent the spread of fire should one occur.  Somewhere in the 1980s, Dad got the door closer bug, and started installing them on many of the doors in the house.

No one else in the house was particularly happy about this. The closers made it more difficult to carry groceries into the house - and you couldn't easily leave the door open to let in fresh air. I don't know how those who are frail can get into some banks and department stores, the doors are so hard to push or pull. I'm looking at the door to my motel room as I type - getting luggage in and out can be a bear.

Whine, whine, whine. Happy Sunday - that's all for now -

Janseung and Totem Poles

Jangseung, sotdae and totem poles are examples of the ancient practice of carving wood or stone with images that clans and communities identify as an ancestral source of connection and protection.

In America, we're familiar with totem poles because they originate on this continent, associated with Native American tribes of the north pacific. Tribes carved images of  icons - for example ravens, eagles, thunderbirds, whales, human-like spirits - on a lodgepole which would stand near the village, both a work of art and a connection to the spirit world. Different tribes followed their own signature artistic techniques that distinguished their totem poles from those of other tribes.

Jangseung and sotdae are both Korean traditions. Janseung are upright rectangles of carved wood or stone, featuring exagerrated human-like faces. Sotdae are thinner, taller poles with carvings of birds such as wild ducks or egrets at the tops. Sotdae are very graceful in appearance, some with a single bird, others with a branch-like perch bearing two or three.

In researching totem poles, it became clear many civilizations around the world have traditions of such carvings in their past. Easter Island's huge works come to mind. European hiking sticks sometimes bore intricate carvings topped by a bird, or a carving of a bear or other animal.

Individuals in many cultures sometimes feel aligned with a personal totem, and in many countries including the USA, we embrace the spirits of archetypal animals and peoples as mascots of sports teams and institutes of learning. Milwaukee Braves baseball team aligns itself with cultures native to the United States. New Orleans Saints football team, Detroit Lions, Miami Dolphins, Texas Longhorns - there's even a college team called the Gueyducks - named after clams.

Carl Jung suggested that in the collective unconscious of all living, that there exists archetypes (templates/icons) of the species. Through the art of totem poles and memorabilia, we are tangibly connected to those forms that are spiritually alive in the collective mind.  Earlier this year, I wrote a bit about Manitou, known as the Great Spirit in some Native American tribes, that gives name to the interconnectedness of all life, the collective soul.

Our dad was in the construction business. His company supplied steel door frames and hinges and the like for commercial construction. One activity that required full attention to avoid costly errors was measurements. If the door frame was half an inch too big, and it had to be sent back and rewelded, the building's progress was delayed, extra man hours were required, and some mistakes required buying more materials.

Construction workers might be told to build six windows three feet across, but in reality, in the finished structure, the windows will have slight variations in size - a half inch here or there. For the frame to fit the structure, the measurements have to be what is actually there, not what was described in the plans.

It's important to have a standard (mutually agreed upon size) inch or other unit of measurement. And these days, it helps to know how to translate from the metric system to the English/American system, and vice versa. If the manufacturer's hinge description is in centimeters, and the measurements you're given are in inches - you have to work a bit to figure out what to order.

It's important in supplying measurements to have some understanding of fractions, how to add 3/8 to 1/4, say. Dad pointed out that we go to school to learn how to do these kinds of calculations, but that a carpenter handles it more simply by just measuring with his tape or ruler and reads the total sum without having to calculate at all.

There are even simpler ways to measure in construction whereby the worker takes some cardboard, or a spare length of wood, marks precisely what is needed, and brings it in and says, I need a dowel this long.

Which kinds of measurement in which situations would be least prone to error? I think about that sometimes, and how that might also be relevant in other professions besides construction.

Handwriting

Over the course of twelve years plus of childhood schooling, we were taught not just to write, but four different types of handwriting! Printing came in kindergarten and first grade. Then came cursive, then script, and last, we learned calligraphy. (My penmanship - described by some friends and family as 'chicken scratch' - was not my forte - not that I didn't care or try!)

In Medieval and early industrial times of western civilization, there were monks and scribes who copied scholastic, political, and religous works by hand for communications and archives. This was long before typewriters, computers, and copy machines existed. The Bible, the Magna Carta and The Declaration of Independence are three examples of Western works all originally recorded by hand. I'm especially intrigued by the lovely art of 'illumination' where the scribes use colored inks to ornament the first letter of a page, and sometimes the margins as well.

Because of our computer keyboards and other reasons, fewer schools spend much time any more teaching writing by hand. However, anyone whose computer has broken down for any length of time knows writing by hand is still a talent of worth! Even for someone like me, there is meditative pleasure to be found in the arts and laborious concentration of handwriting. And, receiving a letter with one's address and name in lovely script on the envelope is a true, not-so-mundane gift.

leaves

'How's the poem coming?' he asked.
 
'For lack of words, I'm drawing leaves,' she said. 'Lots and lots of leaves.' Gray ink flowed from her pen to the white surface of the back of an envelope. 'The life of a leaf is so poetic.'  She traced the curves of the edge of another leaf. 'Their love for each other is a poem.'

contradiction

She glanced up. 'He is most natural when he contradicts himself, when he is random as spring.'

'I'll have an apple,' he said as he picked up an orange.

Somewhere in the middle of the last century, pizza became a staple in American life. (This is on my mind because it is 4 AM, and I'm up and about, enjoying a slice of a cold, leftover Italian pie.) Our dad many times described the first time pizza came into his life. He was on a small ship in the Pacific during World War II in the 1940s, among men from many parts of the United States. One of the cooks on board was from the Northeast, of Italian heritage. As a treat sometimes, this cook would roll out a pie crust, spoon some canned tomato sauce on it with some grated canned cheese on top, and bake it in the oven. Voila, presto! Pizza! It was nothing like what the cook had at home, but to the guys on the ship, many who had never heard of pizza, it was an unscheduled treat.

I first had pizza in the mid-1960s. Unfamiliar with the taste of oregano, I ate little of the pie my folks brought home from Shaky's Pizza, an early franchise. As I grew older, and more familiar with the spices, I became a fan too. Ordering pizza from one of the many chains - Pizza Hut, Pizza Inn, Domino's, Mr. Gatti's, Little Caesar's, Marco's - has been integral to young adult life, in college or hanging out with coworkers. If you have no transportation, it can be delivered to your door. It's a way to survive in America without knowing yet much about cooking. Bread, cheese, tomato sauce. (Some versions leave out the sauce.) You can add meat and veggies - mine just now had black olives, mushrooms, and tomatoes - it's a whole food in the hand. Leftovers in the fridge (or on the counter), good at supper or breakfast, don't last very long.

Then there is the occasional pizza pie, with special crust and a selection of finer cheeses and fresh fillings, that makes your eyes tear up with joy.

Yesterday, I spent some time trying to look up the Divine Office or Daily Office. (I'm not even sure that's the right name for it; the information I found was inconsistant.) What I wanted to know about was the ancient practice of dividing the day with prayer breaks. I knew about it as a child, and a person a generation older than me knew that some Catholic orders in Lafayette, Louisiana (where I grew up) maintained the tradition.


Yesterday, I was curious about the names accorded each break in the day because I could only remember a couple - matins and vespers. I'm now also curious about how, in the centuries before clocks, they determined when to ring the bells for each division of the day. Was there some mechanical set of steps? Was one person assigned the role of timekeeper and he or she just intuitively divided the day, knew it was time for Terce? Was that role passed on in an apprenticed kind of way? And were the times of day in synch with the orders in other parts of town, or other parts of the world?


I'm also curious about the language of the names. I believe they are Latin, but I'm not sure all of them are Latin.


The names and order of the names and the number of divisions that I found yesterday again were not consistent. But here is a list that works both with what I found, and my weak memory. The list however may not be 100% accurate.

Lauds
Matins
Prime
Terce
Sext
None
Vespers
Compline
Vigils

The man in the broken rectangle ...

There is a man
he lives in a broken red rectangle
not so much is missing
a corner here
a small length there.

because it is broken
he cannot keep people out
they come and go
as do possums and squirrels
woodrats and flying bats.

better luck next time,
a stranger in a straw hat laughs.
Better luck this time,
says the man.
he shakes his fist
but the traveller is long past.

a black toad
with green around the eyes
and a touch around the mouth
hops out through an open corner.
She tells the man,
you are born naked
and no one owns the land
the air or water.

you are mistaken,
the man yells
and she hops away.
the man dies
and the worms and flies
the fungus and ants
they take care of his remains.
vines of flowers
entwine his rib bones
and fireflies and hummingbirds
soar back and forth
above the broken red rectangle
and moles and armadillos crawl beneath
until the broken rectangle is a work of art.
humans come from many hours away
to look, and to wonder at its beauty
how it came to be
what it all means.
the elephants
the apes
the panther
the buick
the laughing hyena
travel over the lines and beyond
and drink with the hippopotamus
and the egret on his back
who reside near the water's edge.

ode to my weary plants
 
your roots still tangled
in those flimsy plastic containers i found you in
brave and scraggly companions
traveling with a crazy woman
from this temporary place to that
like refugees
not easy for an unsettled poinsettia
a tiny rose
the day will come

your roots will take grip
in deep dark soil
amongst neighborly trees and grasses
and you will not topple
but reach noble and steady
toward the sun