Birds in mind......

We've been doing a great deal of bird watching in the garden and down by the creek.  After the major restoration work was done to contour the creek bed, much of the vegetation had to be removed.  Mostly just grass, weeds and willows, but I missed it all, nonetheless.  And, the birds and wildlife missed it, too.  But now, they are returning.  Testing the waters.  Perching on the branches of the small new native tree plantings.  Nibbling at the ripened seeds on the wax myrtle shrubs.....and, the great horned owl gave us a brief sighting not too long ago.  As we sat down by the creek, on a rather chilly afternoon sipping hot tea, a winged form glided out from the woods, and perched on a Dug Fir snag.  He gazed at us....then flew away.  But we heard him that night....calling, and so this poem, of a different type of owl, really spoke to me......it describes so beautifully how it feels to be so transported by a bird on the wing.....

A Sighting

by Connie Wanek

The gray owl had seen us and had fled
but not far. We followed noiselessly,
driving him from pine to pine:
I will not let thee go except thou bless me.

He flew as though it gave him no pleasure,
forcing himself from the bough,
falling until his wings caught him:
they had to stroke hard, like heavy oars.

He must have just eaten
something that had, itself, just eaten.
Finally he crossed the swamp and vanished
as into a new day, hours before us,

and we stood near the chest-high reeds,
our feet sinking, and felt
we'd been dropped suddenly from midair
back into our lives.

Mostly poetry today....and a few recent photos as evidence of Spring....

I am reluctant to let go of the poetry just yet, although I'm turning my attention more to the outdoor pursuits of the garden....so, in this vein, a few selections from Mary Oliver's latest book A Thousand Mornings must be noted here.....

A THOUSAND MORNINGS

All night my heart makes its way
however it can over the rough ground
of uncertainties, but only until night
meets and then is overwhelmed by
morning, the light deepening, the
wind easing and just waiting, as I
too wait (and when have I ever been
disappointed?) for redbird to sing.

And, a photo from the garden to go with it....sword fern fiddle-heads, imitating little seahorses in the morning....

Next, the poem that created the special mood that I was looking for after an exhausting week...

Today

Today I’m flying low and I’m
not saying a word
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.

But I’m taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I’m traveling
a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.

An iris appears to inhabit stillness by the creek...

And, finally, 

The Moth, The Mountains, The Rivers

Who can guess the luna's sadness who lives so
briefly? Who can guess the impatience of stone
longing to be ground down, to be part again of
something livelier? Who can imagine in what
heaviness the rivers remember their original
clarity?

Strange questions, yet I have spent worthwhile
time with them. And I suggest them to you also,
that your spirit grow in curiosity, that your life
be richer than it is, that you bow to the earth as
you feel how it actually is, that we- so clever, and
ambitious, and selfish, and unrestrained- are only
one design of the moving, the vivacious many.

The creek on its way to the clarity of the river

Restorative musings as we approach the winter solstice...

On a rainy and chilly December afternoon, thoughts turn inward as we move to nature's cycles.  I'm doing more time looking out into the winter garden than spending time out there, and that is to be expected.  Cozying up by the fire, mug of tea warming my hands, I am feeling the deep peace of a restorative yoga session just completed at The Yoga Center in Corvallis.  Each year around this time they hold these sessions and I was lucky enough to jump into an open spot for someone who couldn't attend at the last minute.  Once again, the experience was heightened by poetry readings from Mary Oliver, Wendell Berry and others.  This one came to us today.....

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair grows in me

and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting for their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. 

Peace and our place in the nature of things is a key theme of my thoughts lately.  And, as I begin the process of creating the woodland garden, this feel right.  A quote from Ann Lovejoy's "A Year Along the Garden Path" sums it up...."We make gardens not just to embody our dreams but because our spirits are uplifted each time we touch the earth."

And, I would add, to find peace in the grace of the world.

On borrowed landscapes...and Sydney Eddison

Where to begin with how this book touched me.....I savored every chapter and came away wishing that Sydney was my neighbor.....such inspiration....











One of the last chapters discusses borrowed landscapes and has given me great motivation to begin the woodland garden process in earnest this spring.  One of her quotes, "What the eye can see, the heart can possess". 

Just a short post, with more to come as the woodland garden gets underway.  Today, I bought 75 daffodil bulbs...hey, it's a start!

Looking for inspiration in deep December....

Just discovering Andy Goldsworthy, a English born artist, now living in Scotland, who works in large site specific sculptures and what is called "land art"....today I finished watching the mesmerizing documentary of his work,  "Rivers and Tides" and am now thinking of creating something in the garden that evokes the concept of portals....but, I haven't filled in any of the details, yet, and am making this post just as a memory jog.  Here's the link to the documentary online...Rivers and Tides.

The question is, how does he get such a deep black for the center of the portal?
What if you were to use a mirror to create the same effect?

Risking a tired cliche...life is a garden...

Some random thoughts have been rattling around and ready to spill out.  No "drop the chicken" moments happening (thank you to a fellow writing classmate for that handy metaphor...Kristina is a talented young writer and you can follow her blog here  Kristina's writing blog Bird Droppings).....just recurring minor observations.  Hanna Rion has written, "The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses"....and this is so true.  But, it occurs to me that there are so many other "senses" that also awaken in the garden.  The sense of anticipation, the sense of wonder, the sense of accomplishment....well, the list goes on. 

Plants make it to wish list after visit to Dancing Oaks

Well, the wish list just got longer.  A visit to Dancing Oaks in Monmouth, Oregon, revealed these lovelies that now must find a place in the garden.  I was also happy to find the botanical name and tag information for a ground cover plant that I bought at a recent local plant sale which came with scant to no information.  Turns out it could be a pretty good score for that blasted slope which is plaguing us.

Heuchera Plum Pudding....love the foliage color

And, another "must have"...a sizable plant, Crambe cordifolia....this one easily topping 5 feet.  It is also known as Colewort, and said to easily grown to 8 feet.  Whoa!

For some time I've admired this plant and now I finally have a source...it is a Sambucus, possibly Black Lace cultivar.  Also, known as an elderberry.  Another statuesque specimen from 4-5 feet.

This is the mystery plant...turns out to be a creeping raspberry.  Who knew?