Tuesday, March 31, 2015

As time goes by...

This day and age we're living in
Gives cause for apprehension
With speed and new invention
And things like third dimension
Yet we get a trifle weary
With Mr Einstein's theory
So we must get down to earth
At times relax, relieve the tension
No matter what the progress
Or what may yet be proved
The simple facts of life are such
They cannot be removed

You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply as time goes by...


from 'As Time Goes By'
1931, Herman Hupfield, composer

Monday, March 30, 2015

The Texas Persimmon is not my personal favorite of all fruit, but it is well-loved by many other friends and neighbors from my past in rural central Texas. The small green persimmons ripen into soft fuzzy sweet dark fruit the size of a toddler's fist. As this occurs, the mockingbirds start hanging out in the vicinity. We had one wild shrub below our mailbox, and for a couple of months, that would be a hangout - the mockingbird diner. Golden-fronted woodpeckers visited the shrubs - and I wonder if bats at night ever showed up. Roadrunners, jack rabbits, yellow-billed cuckoos, black-chinned hummingbirds, and armadillos were nearby and may have enjoyed persimmons, but I can't say I ever actually saw them with a persimmon. The most amazing visitor was a tortoise - with a shell about 10 inches in diameter. Perhaps we would never have known of his existence in our neighborhood except for the persimmons - and later in the fall, the fallen berries beneath the pyracanthas. He ate both persimmons and pyracantha berries with great gusto.

Our Texas Persimmon trees were more like large shrubs than trees, reaching maybe nine feet in height maximum. The leaves were small, dark, and shiny, I believe - well suited for surviving the sometimes arid summers, and dusty, limestone soil.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

sapling redbud 
your slender knobby limbs
robed in ruffled flowers
the color of raspberry wine

shiny buds of leaves
stretching, unfolding,

like little green socks
at the tips of your skinny branches -
they yawn and look out -
where are we?

redbud sapling - only yay high -
such a funny tender sight

like a little kid
who napped in the laundry basket

Friday, March 27, 2015

Horses once existed in the wild, in herds. Horses once galloped far among themselves, to where their instincts, their ears and sense of smell, guided them.

Now, almost all horses can't survive without a human. Life is like a labyrinthe - horses cannot leave their fenced-in homes without a human-driven vehicle and a horse trailer, or a human guiding or riding them along roads and streets to another gated area. Much of their diets are determined and provided by their owners, rather than met in the wild meadows of grains and grasses, berries, crabapples, and plums. Many are single - out of touch completely from other horses.

Many humans now support the preservation of wilderness areas. (This didn't use to be necessary, a human decision. Wilderness just existed, and humans were a a part of that wilderness with all other species. There has been rapid, dramatic change especially in the last two centuries.) Somehow, thinking of the evolution of horses from their independence, to dependence on and subjugation to humans, makes clearer a bigger perspective. How important wilderness is to the souls of horses, and to the soul of all life on our dear planet earth!

Thursday, March 26, 2015

the red thread

There is always something new to discover (especially at a library). Today, I read a children's book called The Red Thread by Grace Lin. The first line I saw was on the front cover flap: 'There is an ancient Chinese belief that an invisible, unbreakable red thread connects all those who are destined to be together.'

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

old tools and instruments

The instruments of some famous or professional musicians gather a bit of attention themselves. I remember that Stevie Ray Vaughan and Willie Nelson both had guitars that they addressed by name (but cannot remember their names at the moment). Musicians bond with their instruments - to make a glorious sound, for a bit of time, the instrument and the musician become as one.

This is an introduction paragraph to what I was thinking about - the relationship of hand tools to carpenters and mechanics and weekend puttlers. The hand learns the precise weight and shape of the hammer or wrench or saw. The hand changes to meet the tool - smooth pain free callouses in the contact areas. The tools gradually change as well. There is something special about using a hammer someone has worked with for twenty years. The wood handle has grown smoothed - you won't get any splinters. Like the violins and banjos of musicians, one's tools carry with them the history of years of good use.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

cranes

Some of the largest birds I've seen in my life have been sandhill cranes. Living in central Texas, we would hear raucous clattering and chattering outdoors, only to find a flock of cranes, making their way overhead, noisy as a bunch of teenagers on a Saturday night. They passed over around Thanksgiving as they were arriving from the north heading to winter on the gulf coast of Texas. One winter, driving between Port Aransas and Corpus Christi, we passed seashore type meadows and could see the colorful head of cranes, with red markings, peering above the tall grasses. They must have been close to five feet tall.

Traveling through south Florida around 2003, a pair of sandhill cranes wandered the parking lot of a motel where we spent the night. We were told they spent a lot of time hanging around, and were given food by those who worked there.

I've never seen the whooping cranes, rather perilously low in population. The only other cranes I've seen, just as fascinating although not of the same formula as birds, are the very tall construction cranes, used to build skyscrapers in cities. They are visually appealing. When I've been in a spot where I can sit and watch them, they look like strange creatures, hob-nobbing in the wilds of the city.

Monday, March 23, 2015

his name eludes me
the artist
sitting near the rice fields -
chair, easel
paints, palette
a tin pail of water -
his paintings growing
beneath his brush
like the green sprouts near him
rooted to the watered earth
drinking up the sun

Saturday, March 21, 2015

she pokes a hole
into the dark earth
and plants the seed;
she's growing a poem.
will there be roots
will there be leaves
will there be words
dangling in the breeze
gold and brilliant
as aspen leaves?
she murmurs sweet nothings
to no one in sight;
the seed glows in the deep
of another's warm heart

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Four important dates occur each year, regardless of one's culture or the type of calender one prefers. These four dates neatly divide the year into four seasons. They are: vernal equinox, summer solstice, autumnal equinox, and winter solstice.
Vernal equinox marks spring; summer solstice, summer; autumnal equinox the fall; and winter solstice for winter.

These are not arbitrary dates, but are observable events in the cosmic clockwork of our planet's yearly orbit around the sun. Let's say that every day (night and day included) is 24 hours long.  Sunrise marks the beginning of day, sunset, the beginning of night. On the two equinox dates, the day and night are of equal length, 12 hours between sunrise and sunset; twelve hours between sunset and sunrise. Spring equinox is drawing near, with equal night and day. As the days move past the equinox toward summer, they will gradually become longer, the nights shorter, until the longest day of the year, the summer solstice. After the solstice, the days gradually become shorter until they are equal to the night again at the fall equinox. After the fall equinox, they continue to grow shorter until the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice. We light candles and put up tiny little lights to see us through the dark season. The days once again grow longer back to the spring equinox, when day and night, wherever you are on earth, are of equal duration.

In ancient times, architects and astrologers consulted, and oriented their sacred structures to mark where the sun rose and set on these special dates.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

sun gives the gift

the sun gives the gift
of the wonder of grapes
the wonder of wine
the wonder of berries
right off the vine

Monday, March 16, 2015

written music

Writing has been a means of communication for humans for thousands of years. Some written languages use pictograms, some use symbols representing the sounds of the language when spoken. Some are tactile, such as Braille, which uses patterns of little raised dots as letters. I like looking at samples of ancient writings, and of writing that is very different from our alphabet. I think each offers its own gifts, and each is like a puzzle that uses different parts of the brain to be comprehended. Some are symbols that translate into the spoken language of the writer. But some are visual languages of their own.

Then, there is that writing that translates into wordless sound - such as written music. Anyone who has been in choir or taken a piano lesson or two is familiar with the horizontal lines and the little black dots between and upon them that mark out different notes, a system recognized world wide for some centuries. The lines and spaces between the lines each mark out a half step in pitch.

There are other ways of writing music from different cultures, and ancient songbooks have their own symbols and patterns. Some use colors, others use numbers. Some are written music expressly for specific instruments. For example, with a guitar, there are small graphs and numbers that communicate which strings and which frets are used to produce a certain chord. I like looking at our traditional written music because it translates sound to a physical representation of the path melody takes. Several dimensions become evident. There is the dimension of pitch varying up and down. The pattern of the notes left to right is a kind of timeline.
  The silent image of sound in itself is a pleasure to look at - art, language, and physics on a single page of music.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

cars and antelope

Bear with me please today - this is an idiosyncratic entry. For some months, I've been pondering over how many names there are for animals like gazelles. I'm still struggling to remember the ones I once knew. I noticed that several automobiles of the past were named after such animals, and then lost a couple of the memories along the way. Below are the lists of words my memory has - grudgingly - coughed up. There is some connection between the vehicles that have multiplied over the past century, and the creatures who have dwindled. There is also something that goes deep in a list of names we have given our truly loved vehicles. No agenda here, just waking up something.

duiker
impala
gazelle
antelope
buick


car nation

chevrolet
buick
impala
sequoia
forester
corolla
corona
chrysler
suburu
honda
toyota
expedition
ranchero
suburban
infiniti
mustang
thunderbird
jeep
volkswagen
ford
rambler
cadillac
lincoln
volvo
seville
new yorker
voyager
civic
delta 88
firebird
gremlin
opel
F-250
cougar
monte carlo
rabbit
Falcon
Model T
odyssey
mitsubishi
skylark
beetle

Friday, March 13, 2015

There is an American tradition of hanging a horseshoe over a doorway for good luck. You have to hang it the right way, like a cup, to hold that good luck. If you hang it upside down, your luck might run dry.

It's a mystery to me why horses require shoes in the first place. They have some of the toughest feet in the animal kingdom!

Thursday, March 12, 2015

grumpy clerk

it's Tuesday morning
up the river
of years past
a grumpy clerk
stands behind
a check-out counter
no store
no aisles
no goods
no ceiling
just the clerk
in his white apron
and a counter.
He frowns down at me
his face as big
as a mustached full moon.
'Well?'
he threatens.
His eyes glint blue
behind his wire spectacles.
I choke and giggle
at the same time
and run fast as I can.
Maybe he'll still be there
tomorrow?

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

baby formula

Our mother was a nurse who served in the army in the Pacific in the 1940s. I'm not sure if she learned about baby formulas from those days, or learned it from nurses' training in New Orleans, but - circa 1960 - she had a recipe, one that she used and sometimes slightly adjusted for different mammals. We used her formula when one of our nanny goats birthed three kids and could only feed two of them. (The third became our pet - Ta-Tee - who we nursed from birth.) We used the formula when a doe was hit by a car, and left behind a young fawn, and we used it for baby kittens. During the severe drought in the late 1950s, she was called for the recipe now and again. (By then, she was an obstetrical nurse, and pre-mixed baby formulas were not yet available everywhere for moms having difficulty nursing their infants.)

She kept the recipe tucked in a cookbook no longer accessible, but the ingredients included powdered (cow's) milk which comes in a box (or evaporated milk which comes in a can), Karo brand corn syrup, which was a clear, thick, sugary liquid, and clean water. (There may have been other ingredients, perhaps egg and a pinch of salt, but the milk, syrup, and water are all that I remember for certain.) Once combined, I think the formula was brought just short of boiling, and then cooled to room temperature for immediate use, or kept chilled in the refrigerator until needed. The infants drank eagerly from a sturdy glass baby bottle with a rubber nipple. The formula was a good one - I know for certain Ta-tee thrived, lively and cute, and gradually joined the other goats in the pasture.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Mom, who was a nurse, was at home from work because we kids - her children - had chicken pox. We were past the fever part, for which we took baby aspirin. We were at the scratching away at runny, itchy, spotty pox part, not dying or anything. She took advantage of the day at home to plant a garden near our front door.

First she planted pansies, deep glowing yellows and purples. That may be the first flower I learned by name because of that chicken pox day garden.

Most places I've lived have local rocks and such to border decorative plants and vegetable gardens. In south central Louisiana at that time, the terrain so flat along the gulf, rocks were not common at all. People used varied plants to border their gardens, and Mama planted monkey grass next, each plant a hardy fountain of low-lying strands of dark green vegetation. Monkey grass withstands freezes and heat, comes back cheerfully no matter what, it seems.

Seeing Mama contentedly planting the pansies and the grasses was a kind of reassuring antidote to our illness, which continued to rapidly fade away.

Monday, March 9, 2015

'Grey Seal' is a song composed by Elton John and Bernie Taupin. I had the good fortune about a year ago to find via YouTube an unadorned, moving video of Elton John singing the song. Not a public performance, it was just him and his piano. The words are poetic, the kind that don't speak quite logically, but rather open doors with little phrases that act like turnkeys. Thumping the piano, he sings with sincerity and passion. The song is addressed to Grey Seal, and I've wanted to hear Elton John and Bernie Taupin talk about how the song came to be.  How did this line come to be: 'Tell me, Grey Seal, how does it feel to be so wise?'

Saturday, March 7, 2015

rubber

When I was very young circa 1960, there were quite a few products around us that were made of rubber. There were rubber balls to play with. There were boots to wear over your shoes in the rain. They were called 'rubbers', and sometimes 'galoshes'. Babies wore rubber pants that covered their cloth diapers. This protected furniture and parents from leakage. Not certain, but I assume the rubber bands that held rolled newspapers together during delivery were made of rubber. Bicycle and car tires were made of rubber.

Rubber products are fashioned from the goop that comes from the rubber tree. Plastics - there are so many types of plastics - are made from petroleum and gradually have overtaken the role of rubber.

Friday, March 6, 2015

it's my birthday.
i woke up feeling sluggish
so i'm going slow.
living the day like a slug.
a different world, it is,
when you take it slow -
the air bright and clean -
gremlins and elephants
waving from the trees

Thursday, March 5, 2015

poor shoes

poor
shoes
poor socks
poor slippers
with rocks
the sky is falling
and then it's not

the mice teach us
to repair our shoes
we gather the broken
flower pots

poor plants
poor birds
it's been a long haul
but God bless God

hell is under
deconstruction
a smidgeon of heaven
on the horizon

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Thinking about proverbs this morning, after all these years, I could only access two of them in my mind. And those - I'm not certain I really understand them!

'A stitch in time saves nine.'
'A penny saved is a penny earned.'

Then came 'Birds of a feather flock together.' But there's also 'Opposites attract.'

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Beatrix and Walt

Looking at a compilation of the works of Beatrix Potter (circa 1900), I'm taken by the pleasurably detailed illustrations. Her artistry is superb, and the content of her illustrations if quite a treasure of the trivia of bygone days in England. The characters of the tales she chooses to illustrate include mice and rabbits, sparrows and laboring tailors. Her art is very realistic (in contrast to more cartoon-like children's books). The blackbirds flock to visit the simple scarecrow the farmer makes by hanging his coat in the breeze. The tailor works with fabrics of lace and satin, cloth embroidered with birds and flowers. When his energy fails, the mice take over the sewing while he sleeps, and they stitch dozens of buttonholes. There's a sense that the artist was very familiar with birds and mice, she creates such genuine connection between the beasts and the reader.

I wonder if Walt Disney had any of Potter's books when he was a child. His feature-length cartoon musicals were filled with animated creatures - spirited, and aware, whether mischievous or helpful. I was always drawn to the beginning of Cinderella, with the mice and birds singing as they created a dress for Cinderella to wear to the ball. It's possible he was passing down a tradition of fairy tales and children's stories (in the new medium of animated film), where the cats and humans and fish and rabbits and crickets share the stage, share the humor, tragedies, and wonder of life.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Merrycatterwaller

Merrycatterwaller was a fine spotty cat who lived in a house with a family of humans. Every day, he amused himself, eating dandelions, chasing insects in the grass, and watching the antics of the people. Bells and buzzers went off in the morning, and the humans lugged glumly out of bed. The parents hollered at the kids until they were up too. The parents ate no breakfast, and they made the kids eat breakfast.

To make a long long story short, Merry loved the family of human pets, but would never understand them. Merrycatterwaller ate from his bowl, or the little gifts of herbs and proteins in the yard, when he was hungry, and drank if he was thirsty. He didn't if he wasn't. He never thought about sleep at all, just curled up when he felt like it, and things were calm. Unlike people, he didn't worry about when or how long he slept because he knew nothing about clocks and hours and meetings. He intersected somehow with his girlfriend Jelly Bean, the neighbor dogs and squirrels and sparrows as needed without scheduling. Sometimes when he was up in the night, he slipped through the cat door, and sang and sashayed under the moon. (He had to live up to his fine name!) When he came back in, he checked on each of his peeps, jumping on the bed, orbiting about them, purring in their radius. He stayed on the bed if one was tossing and turning until all was calm once more. He knew he was a bit of a worrycat, but humans! Sometimes they made the hair on his tail stand on end. Merrycatterwaller loved them anyhow.