Category Archives: nature

The earth’s heart and mine.

nature, poetry, trees, weather, , , , ,

This week I discovered Longfellow’s poem, “The Poet’s Calendar,” and I liked it so much I decided to memorize it, starting with the April section. Just before dusk today, as I was ambling along the creek path, I worked on those several lines, which are so musical, within a few minutes the words had flowed right into my heart. Two sorts of hearts are featured in the poem.

April in these parts started out pretty cold, but is beginning to warm up. We had several surprise showers after it seemed that rain had gone for good — of course not forever, though our dry California summers sometimes feel like “forever,” while we wait and hope for precipitation again in the fall. One of those showers was half-frozen slush that splatted on my car’s windshield for a few minutes.

Storksbill or Cranesbill – don’t remember which…

It’s easier to fit in a good walk, now that the clocks have been changed and there is more evening to work with. The live oaks along my path are sprouting new growth, and climbing roses that escaped their back yards bloom again on the chain link fence.

APRIL

I open wide the portals of the Spring
…..To welcome the procession of the flowers,
With their gay banners, and the birds that sing
…..Their song of songs from their aerial towers.
I soften with my sunshine and my rain
…..The heart of earth; with thoughts of love I glide
Into the hearts of men, and with the Hours
…..Upon the Bull with wreathed horns I ride.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, from “The Poet’s Calendar”

I was wordless in the singing world.

nature, poetry, work,

It is never my lot to “trifle around with a poem” the way Mary very profitably does, but I know about the thrill of getting unstuck and running (after a fashion) out the door. Just wandering in the garden often changes my mood drastically.  Rain is falling here at this moment, and watering my being.

WORK, SOMETIMES

I was sad all day, and why not. There I was, books piled
on both sides of the table, paper stacked up, words
falling off my tongue.

The robins had been a long time singing, and now it
was beginning to rain.

What are we sure of? Happiness isn’t a town on a map,
or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good work
ongoing.  Which is not likely to be the trifling around
with a poem.

Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yard
were full of lively fragrance.

You have had days like this, no doubt. And wasn’t it
wonderful, finally, to leave the room? Ah, what a
moment!

As for myself, I swung the door open. And there was
the wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.

-Mary Oliver

Older photo, from a little later in spring.

Blowing her dandelion breath.

nature, poetry, ,

This afternoon I had to throw off my sweater before I took a walk. I keep being surprised that it’s not chillier, and have to remind myself that it’s March, after all. January and February flew past, maybe because I went on trips out of state both months, and didn’t pay attention to the home front.

I’m hoping that my schedule will be quieter during April. Orthodox Lent and Pascha are very late this year — Lent doesn’t begin until Monday the 18th of March — and I expect to stay home all of April, and let my friends come to visit me. So far two of them are planning to do that. I’m opening my arms to Spring!

SPRING

Just as we lose hope
she ambles in,
a late guest
dragging her hem
of wildflowers,
her torn
veil of mist,
of light rain,
blowing
her dandelion
breath
in our ears;
and we forgive her,
turning from
chilly winter
ways,
we throw off
our faithful
sweaters
and open
our arms.

-Linda Pastan