This speaks to me so much! With a practice of macro photography I have found myself drawn to the simplest things yet finding more profound truths. I just discovered your blog but I look forward to reading and observing more.
Thanks for this poem...Mary Oliver's poetry touches a deep place within me. This poem ignited some memories for me. All summer and fall the crows seemed to be accompanying me through life. When I heard the words "Look up towards the sky" while engaging in a forest therapy guided meditation, 2 crows flew towards me a perched on a tree limb directly above me, shoulder length apart. They sat there in silence for the 15 minute duration of the meditation before flying away! On other occasions, while I was out for walks, crows would come and perch on tree limbs above me and chatter in very soft vocalizations ...very different from the loud cawing sounds I had been familiar with. I have a bowl of stones beside my studio door and many mornings I would find a stone or two moved from the bowl and placed on the step in front of the door and sometimes other random objects. It remains a mystery but I wonder if the crows were playing? Today, what I notice is an unusual silence outside...there is no sound of geese or crows or wind...only the sound of the snow crunching beneath my feet!
Hi Marg, Reading what you and Sue have written I'm reminded of how long I've noticed crows. As a little girl, my Mom taught be to count crows on long car rides - before iPads lol. She had a little verse that went along with it: one crow sorrow, two crow joy, three crow a letter, four crow a boy, five crow silver, six crow gold, seven crow a secret never to be told. I often think of her when I see crows fly by but you know while I notice them I also realise I know very little about them. So much to learn! Thank you for taking the time to chat. Vera
Hi Marg. Sue here. I have sometimes also felt this accompaniment by animals and birds. So much you noticed about these two crow companions! Thank you for adding this to our good kitchen table conversation.
A few years ago, I read that crows can easily distinguish between and recognize individual people. I began to watch the crows more carefully, to see if I could eventually tell them apart. So far, my noticing has not been careful enough to do this, but I am not done yet!!
I read this in the dimness of the early morning, the day after ending of daylight time in Manitoba. Across the river I would see dark forms on the bank. Rocks? No they hadn’t been there the previous evening. As darkness withdrew, these shapes revealed themselves as Canada Geese, who must have roosted there overnight. As I watched, a small group began to swim across the river, to the bank below our balcony, then another group, followed by a third, I marvelled at the impetus to change location, passed mysteriously from one family to the next. Then I realized that through some inner wisdom these geese knew how to angle themselves against the downstream river flow, so that they would travel in a straight line to reach their preferred spot. Amazing!
Hi Barbara, This is Vera. I, too, live on the water. We commented on a long string of geese swimming past our house who appeared to be on a conveyor belt and wondered what inner wisdom led them to that formation - what were they thinking? I couldn't get over how their long stretch looked as if someone had made a line with a Sharpie maker against the expanse of the lake. Thank you for joining our conversation and sharing what you noticed.
After reading this lovely poem and your inspirational words my walk in our beautiful city park took me on trails that I have ignored for way too long. The waves lapping the shore with the squirrels scurrying around and crows cawing started my morning on a bright note.
Hi Judy, Sue here. I love being nudged to revisit a place that has nurtured me at one time. Isn't is great how a "noticing walk" can totally shift our day? Thanks for joining in the conversation.
Hi Janynie, yes I also love how the snow highlights certain things like colour and lines. Yesterday I noticed how squiggly the blades of some grasses are on the hill. They looked so playful. Thanks for sharing with us. Now I'll start to look for that red bark too. :-) Vera
Sorry I'm late to the conversation. Thank you for sharing that beautiful poem. It wasn't one I was familiar with. I just started reading "How to do Nothing" by Jenny Odell who talks about being attentive to our surroundings. She wants to "argue for a new "placefulness" that yields sensitivity and responsibility to the historical (what happened here) and the ecological (who and what lives, or lived, here)". The other day I was looking at a tree for quite some time when I felt comfort from that tree. My heart rate slowed down and I had feeling of well-being. I felt a sense of oneness with the tree in that we're all in this together. Humans and non humans alike.
Thank you Edie. I looked up Jenny Odell. The idea of "a new placefulness" that yields sensitivity and responsibility to what happened here in the past is something that Vera and I wonder about quite a bit. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to imagine the landscape before settlers arrived - the curvaceous lines, the subtle colours. The prairie landscape has been changed ("terraformed") so much, that this is quite a challenge.
To spend quiet time in the natural world, as you did with the tree, is a comfort and a solace. Taking this time has also helped us understand that we are all in this together - humans and more than humans alike.
We often try to imagine the landscape before settlers arrived. Much easier to do in places where there are no fences or other man made alterations. One of our favourite drives is through the sensuous hills west of Moose Jaw, all the way to Rush Lake.
Yes, Vera and I like to imagine this, too. There are a few spots in the Qu'Appelle Valley east of Katepwa Lake where you can get a glimpse. Mind you, just a glimpse! Thank you for mentionning your drive through the "sensuous hills". I look forward to doing the same.
Hi Kathy, so great to hear from you. Since starting this project, I've realised that I'd never given any thought as to what the land looked like before settlers. One thing I am enjoying is talking about this with Sue and incorporating this into our learning- and I seem to have a thing for photographing fences. I find there is generally a reason why I photograph certain things, even though I may not be 100% certain at the time of making the image. I hope you continue with us on this journey and share your thoughts here again. I'll keep an eye out for those "sensuous hills"...such a lovely term. Stay warm, Vera
Good morning Edie, I grew up in Cape Breton where the kitchen is the heart of the home so it's never too late to spend time sitting at the table chatting. So nice that you've found a new poem and in return I've found a new book :-) I'll add this one to our list. Lately, I too have been thinking so much about our history. It's not easy but I know it is necessary. Have you ever thought that maybe the reason trees have limbs is they know we humans need a big comforting hug sometimes :-) hmmm I am glad you found that comfort. Thank you so much for sharing! Enjoy your day, Vera
This morning I noticed scores of Canada Geese flying over my urban neighborhood. The bare branches of the city trees framed the straight lines and perfect points of their migration, each wave catching my breath and lifting my heart. I watched in awe how the each pilot goose relinquished its lead to the next, instinct and strength guiding them to their winter homes in the south.
Your description resonates with me, Diane. Thank you. Like you, I love the bare branches of the trees this time of year, what they reveal, how they frame our world differently. Their (seeming) simplicity. The geese seldom fail to stir my heart, and as you say "catch my breath and lift my heart".
As a kid I lived on a farm and across the road from our house was a large slough! Can you imagine how many wonderful creatures were living right there! As a kid I was very curious of that pond of water and just what I might find and say hi too!! As a kid I spent hours visiting with Frogs, water bugs, birds, bull rushes, flowers, worms, mud and even more tiny things with no names. As a kid I knew this was a special place with special friends who brought me Joy and Delight and Freedom and Peace!
Today my house is gone and so is the pond….gone! Both spots now are used for growing grain which is fine but it’s like we were never there ever…Poof! Gone! It’s a weird feeling to see nothing familiar but one row of trees that grew behind our house…pond is flat and dry now!
The earth is left….the earth stays! And left alone the earth naturally takes itself back…love the strength and power of nature! Humans have a type of control but in the end it goes back…it goes home!
I love Mary’s poems as they connect me to my fortunate childhood with perfect words like “the dark halls of honey” and “You aren’t much, I said one day to my reflection in a green pond,
and grinned.”.
My fortune was that I got to see and do those things in real life. Hope in some way I reciprocated to the lives within the pond…not sure…!
Hi Jill; It wasn't until I farm sat for a friend who lived east of Calgary on the prairie that I really started to love and appreciate the vibrant life and beauty of the prairie landscape.
Hi Jill - Sue here! Thanks for joining in the conversation. I love your childhood memories of your special slough. This past year as I visited the wetland across the road, I could not get over how vitally alive it is, especially in spring - frogs singing, birds and insects, ducks, all kinds of growth - so much so that I couldn't see through the greenery to the water once July set in. I think this is partly why I feel an ache in my body when other nearby wetlands are bulldozed, and later burned or buried. It seems like they never were, but I remember each one.
Yes it is sad! And where do these creatures live now! How far did they need to go before they can make a new home!! Think my time here was a wonderful time to live!
What a wonderful way to start my day...with your words and Mary Oliver’s poem. Yesterday I noticed white oak leaves on the ground, how each one that had fallen from the tree was a different shape and size, changing color at a different pace, and showing different marks from a season well lived through sun, rain, wind, fog and among birds, insects and other creatures.
Hi Lee Anne, makes my heart warm to hear from you which is something I need at this time of year. On my last walk with Sue, before snow covered the ground, she came home with pockets full of leaves to press and enjoy later in the winter. I think of all the time as a society we spend on our obsession with "tidying up" nature. What would happen if we took this time to enjoy the beauty of the leaves as both you and Sue have? So many things to think about. Thank you for sharing with us and reminding me to notice.
This speaks to me so much! With a practice of macro photography I have found myself drawn to the simplest things yet finding more profound truths. I just discovered your blog but I look forward to reading and observing more.
Welcome!!! We are so happy you found us and look forward to you joining in on the conversation.
Thanks for this poem...Mary Oliver's poetry touches a deep place within me. This poem ignited some memories for me. All summer and fall the crows seemed to be accompanying me through life. When I heard the words "Look up towards the sky" while engaging in a forest therapy guided meditation, 2 crows flew towards me a perched on a tree limb directly above me, shoulder length apart. They sat there in silence for the 15 minute duration of the meditation before flying away! On other occasions, while I was out for walks, crows would come and perch on tree limbs above me and chatter in very soft vocalizations ...very different from the loud cawing sounds I had been familiar with. I have a bowl of stones beside my studio door and many mornings I would find a stone or two moved from the bowl and placed on the step in front of the door and sometimes other random objects. It remains a mystery but I wonder if the crows were playing? Today, what I notice is an unusual silence outside...there is no sound of geese or crows or wind...only the sound of the snow crunching beneath my feet!
Hi Marg, Reading what you and Sue have written I'm reminded of how long I've noticed crows. As a little girl, my Mom taught be to count crows on long car rides - before iPads lol. She had a little verse that went along with it: one crow sorrow, two crow joy, three crow a letter, four crow a boy, five crow silver, six crow gold, seven crow a secret never to be told. I often think of her when I see crows fly by but you know while I notice them I also realise I know very little about them. So much to learn! Thank you for taking the time to chat. Vera
Hi Marg. Sue here. I have sometimes also felt this accompaniment by animals and birds. So much you noticed about these two crow companions! Thank you for adding this to our good kitchen table conversation.
A few years ago, I read that crows can easily distinguish between and recognize individual people. I began to watch the crows more carefully, to see if I could eventually tell them apart. So far, my noticing has not been careful enough to do this, but I am not done yet!!
I read this in the dimness of the early morning, the day after ending of daylight time in Manitoba. Across the river I would see dark forms on the bank. Rocks? No they hadn’t been there the previous evening. As darkness withdrew, these shapes revealed themselves as Canada Geese, who must have roosted there overnight. As I watched, a small group began to swim across the river, to the bank below our balcony, then another group, followed by a third, I marvelled at the impetus to change location, passed mysteriously from one family to the next. Then I realized that through some inner wisdom these geese knew how to angle themselves against the downstream river flow, so that they would travel in a straight line to reach their preferred spot. Amazing!
Hi Barbara, This is Vera. I, too, live on the water. We commented on a long string of geese swimming past our house who appeared to be on a conveyor belt and wondered what inner wisdom led them to that formation - what were they thinking? I couldn't get over how their long stretch looked as if someone had made a line with a Sharpie maker against the expanse of the lake. Thank you for joining our conversation and sharing what you noticed.
A friend and I were recently musing on how we love to notice the beauty around us and wonder how it is that some are not yet ready to see it. ♥
So true!
After reading this lovely poem and your inspirational words my walk in our beautiful city park took me on trails that I have ignored for way too long. The waves lapping the shore with the squirrels scurrying around and crows cawing started my morning on a bright note.
Hi Judy, Sue here. I love being nudged to revisit a place that has nurtured me at one time. Isn't is great how a "noticing walk" can totally shift our day? Thanks for joining in the conversation.
A couple of things ago I noticed how the red bark of a shrub shows up so vividly against the snow. A Christmas card moment
Hi Janynie, yes I also love how the snow highlights certain things like colour and lines. Yesterday I noticed how squiggly the blades of some grasses are on the hill. They looked so playful. Thanks for sharing with us. Now I'll start to look for that red bark too. :-) Vera
Yes!
Sorry I'm late to the conversation. Thank you for sharing that beautiful poem. It wasn't one I was familiar with. I just started reading "How to do Nothing" by Jenny Odell who talks about being attentive to our surroundings. She wants to "argue for a new "placefulness" that yields sensitivity and responsibility to the historical (what happened here) and the ecological (who and what lives, or lived, here)". The other day I was looking at a tree for quite some time when I felt comfort from that tree. My heart rate slowed down and I had feeling of well-being. I felt a sense of oneness with the tree in that we're all in this together. Humans and non humans alike.
Thank you Edie. I looked up Jenny Odell. The idea of "a new placefulness" that yields sensitivity and responsibility to what happened here in the past is something that Vera and I wonder about quite a bit. Sometimes I close my eyes and try to imagine the landscape before settlers arrived - the curvaceous lines, the subtle colours. The prairie landscape has been changed ("terraformed") so much, that this is quite a challenge.
To spend quiet time in the natural world, as you did with the tree, is a comfort and a solace. Taking this time has also helped us understand that we are all in this together - humans and more than humans alike.
We often try to imagine the landscape before settlers arrived. Much easier to do in places where there are no fences or other man made alterations. One of our favourite drives is through the sensuous hills west of Moose Jaw, all the way to Rush Lake.
Yes, Vera and I like to imagine this, too. There are a few spots in the Qu'Appelle Valley east of Katepwa Lake where you can get a glimpse. Mind you, just a glimpse! Thank you for mentionning your drive through the "sensuous hills". I look forward to doing the same.
Hi Kathy, so great to hear from you. Since starting this project, I've realised that I'd never given any thought as to what the land looked like before settlers. One thing I am enjoying is talking about this with Sue and incorporating this into our learning- and I seem to have a thing for photographing fences. I find there is generally a reason why I photograph certain things, even though I may not be 100% certain at the time of making the image. I hope you continue with us on this journey and share your thoughts here again. I'll keep an eye out for those "sensuous hills"...such a lovely term. Stay warm, Vera
“Terraformed”. What a great word to describe the history of planned alterations to land.
Good morning Edie, I grew up in Cape Breton where the kitchen is the heart of the home so it's never too late to spend time sitting at the table chatting. So nice that you've found a new poem and in return I've found a new book :-) I'll add this one to our list. Lately, I too have been thinking so much about our history. It's not easy but I know it is necessary. Have you ever thought that maybe the reason trees have limbs is they know we humans need a big comforting hug sometimes :-) hmmm I am glad you found that comfort. Thank you so much for sharing! Enjoy your day, Vera
This morning I noticed scores of Canada Geese flying over my urban neighborhood. The bare branches of the city trees framed the straight lines and perfect points of their migration, each wave catching my breath and lifting my heart. I watched in awe how the each pilot goose relinquished its lead to the next, instinct and strength guiding them to their winter homes in the south.
Your description resonates with me, Diane. Thank you. Like you, I love the bare branches of the trees this time of year, what they reveal, how they frame our world differently. Their (seeming) simplicity. The geese seldom fail to stir my heart, and as you say "catch my breath and lift my heart".
As a kid I lived on a farm and across the road from our house was a large slough! Can you imagine how many wonderful creatures were living right there! As a kid I was very curious of that pond of water and just what I might find and say hi too!! As a kid I spent hours visiting with Frogs, water bugs, birds, bull rushes, flowers, worms, mud and even more tiny things with no names. As a kid I knew this was a special place with special friends who brought me Joy and Delight and Freedom and Peace!
Today my house is gone and so is the pond….gone! Both spots now are used for growing grain which is fine but it’s like we were never there ever…Poof! Gone! It’s a weird feeling to see nothing familiar but one row of trees that grew behind our house…pond is flat and dry now!
The earth is left….the earth stays! And left alone the earth naturally takes itself back…love the strength and power of nature! Humans have a type of control but in the end it goes back…it goes home!
I love Mary’s poems as they connect me to my fortunate childhood with perfect words like “the dark halls of honey” and “You aren’t much, I said one day to my reflection in a green pond,
and grinned.”.
My fortune was that I got to see and do those things in real life. Hope in some way I reciprocated to the lives within the pond…not sure…!
Hi Jill; It wasn't until I farm sat for a friend who lived east of Calgary on the prairie that I really started to love and appreciate the vibrant life and beauty of the prairie landscape.
Hi Jill - Sue here! Thanks for joining in the conversation. I love your childhood memories of your special slough. This past year as I visited the wetland across the road, I could not get over how vitally alive it is, especially in spring - frogs singing, birds and insects, ducks, all kinds of growth - so much so that I couldn't see through the greenery to the water once July set in. I think this is partly why I feel an ache in my body when other nearby wetlands are bulldozed, and later burned or buried. It seems like they never were, but I remember each one.
Yes it is sad! And where do these creatures live now! How far did they need to go before they can make a new home!! Think my time here was a wonderful time to live!
What a wonderful way to start my day...with your words and Mary Oliver’s poem. Yesterday I noticed white oak leaves on the ground, how each one that had fallen from the tree was a different shape and size, changing color at a different pace, and showing different marks from a season well lived through sun, rain, wind, fog and among birds, insects and other creatures.
Hi Lee Anne, makes my heart warm to hear from you which is something I need at this time of year. On my last walk with Sue, before snow covered the ground, she came home with pockets full of leaves to press and enjoy later in the winter. I think of all the time as a society we spend on our obsession with "tidying up" nature. What would happen if we took this time to enjoy the beauty of the leaves as both you and Sue have? So many things to think about. Thank you for sharing with us and reminding me to notice.