Archive | May, 2009

Hunting Beach Agates And Finding Something Else

28. May 2009

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Hunting Beach Agates And Finding Something Else

Agate is a translucent variety of chalcedony, a quartz stone that can be either clear or colored from other minerals. It comes in many shapes and patterns and all colors (although green and blue are rare) and you can usually find them near rivers, streams or my favorite, at the sea. Usually a little heavier than most rocks, agates often sink or hide beneath other stones. When I was nine or so, I got to spend a week in a cottage at the beach with my mother while my father stayed in the city. He brought us down on a Saturday then left on Sunday for the work week. I’d been all excited over a few agates I’d found, and he was skeptical that I could find very many more.

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Flowing With The High River Moon

24. May 2009

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Flowing With The High River Moon

In my corner of the far northwest, there is almost always plenty of water. Here in Washington state, we are famous for the prodigious rain that falls. So it won’t surprise you that most springs our many rivers roar down out of their snow-capped mountains, full, frothy and icy cold. This spring I stood at the edge of such a river, the Dosewallips, which tumbles down from the Olympic Mountains through mixed woods of fir, alder and big leaf maple. I feel the energy, the power generated by the outpouring—even if it isn’t ever transposed into electricity. I attune myself to such life force, such vivacity, and inhale the highly ionized oxygen. Unlike the rhythm of the sea which often relaxes and soothes me, the relentless rushing of this river charges me up, as if I were a battery connected to its current.

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We’re Indebted To Light

20. May 2009

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Words to inspire: “Even after all this time the sun never says to the earth: You owe me. Look what happens with a love like that…it lights the whole world.” ~Hafiz

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A Walk In The Spring Woods

15. May 2009

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A Walk In The Spring Woods

It shifted today—the sun feels stronger, the air is sweetened with new life, and more birds blend their voices into a concerto for the regreening of the earth. The morning light follows me into the woods because firs are glowing with new growth. All the branch tips sport lighter, bright green, which in the early morning gives the effect of thousands of chartreuse mini-lights. The neighboring madrona is in full pale yellow bloom, and its lacy flower bracts shimmer in the sunrise. Mosses are spongy underfoot and soften my step. Up ahead, creamy white blossoms of the wild cherries are already fading, and the fruit is starting to set.

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Twisted In The Sand

12. May 2009

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Twisted In The Sand

There must be dozens like it on that mile swath of pale sand, but my gaze lands on this one and it sings to me. A slender silvered branch polished smooth by its tidal ride, it’s about four feet long, though it would measure much longer if it could be straightened. But that’s the point. My sinuous stick got this way by adapting to its environment. Each curve of its growth is a reaction to sun or wind or impediment. It survived, for a time at least, by being flexible. And even in death, it still is.

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A Mother Might Be Whoever Fixes Breakfast

9. May 2009

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A Mother Might Be Whoever Fixes Breakfast

Though I’ve been a “mom” to my dog for fifteen years, I doubt she has anything special planned for today. That’s all the mothering I’ve ever done—cats, a dog and some injured birds on occasion. And since my own grandmothers and mother are long gone, this day is a non-event for me. It’s almost fawn season here, and I do enjoy watching the gangly, spotted young deer learning how their legs work. The does, who often have twins, are so patient with them.

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