Category Archives: nature

And then my feet know it.

BOUNDARIES

There is a place where the town ends
and the fields begin.
It’s not marked but the feet know it,
also the heart, that is longing for refreshment
and, equally, for repose.

Someday we’ll live in the sky.
Meanwhile, the house of our lives is the world.
The fields, the ponds, the birds.
The thick black oaks — surely they are the
children of God.
The feistiness among the tiger lilies,
the hedges of runaway honeysuckle, that no one owns.

Where is it? I ask, and then
my feet know it.

One jump, and I’m home.

-Mary Oliver

Paul Lecomte, Frankrijk

A branch of eucalyptus.

Today we had a sunny surprise of a break between storms, so that I could take a walk under blue skies. The rain has flooded the creek paths in my neighborhood where people like to run with their dogs, a few feet lower down than the paved path I was on; this is not uncommon in the winter season, and the creeks are maintained every couple of years to make sure that the heavier flows rushing down from the hills don’t encroach on the main paths.

I was admiring the giant eucalyptus trees along the way when I noticed a small branch from one blown down at the edge of the path. It was of a type with extra-slender leaves, and so freshly washed, I decided to bring it home where I could keep enjoying it for a while. Here are the trees from which it fell, that I craned my neck to see:

For years I’ve been planning to write a long and thorough article about the history of eucalyptus trees in California and the controversy around them, but I never get that much leisure time. I have mentioned them several times, though, over the years.

I heard that the city is planning to repave this path that has some serious bumps where tree roots have pushed it up, and that that is why they are planning to cut some big ones. I hope it’s not too many! They have been my friends for thirty-five years ❤

Gold in the grey of morning.

GETTING UP EARLY

Just as the night was fading
Into the dusk of morning
When the air was cool as water
When the town was quiet
And I could hear the sea

I caught sight of the moon
No higher than the rooftops
Our neighbor the moon

An hour before the sunrise
She glowed with her own sunrise
Gold in the grey of morning

World without town or forest
Without wars or sorrows
She paused between two trees

And it was as if in secret
Not wanting to be seen
She chose to visit us
So early in the morning.

-Anne Porter

Asgrimur Jonsson, Moonlight Reykjavík, 1909