The Season of Form

"Autumn is familiarly the season of color, winter is the season of form, spring the season of texture, and summer the season of motion."   

Henry Beston from Herbs And The Earth

As I read that line after a long day of idleness, for it is winter in Maine- I thought how apt a perception.  The days are long on melancholy and short on bursts of adrenalin.  The sun only comes out from hiding when a pine captures it in it's branches and makes a show of it.  And then, it seems- the other trees in the forest lean in and warm themselves in the fuzzy orbing glow.   On my walks through the wet, drudgingly difficult snow- I come upon forms and frame them as I can with interest- though most are completely abandoned in the end by a quick delete push of the button.  It is difficult to find inspiration of color, of movement though ever increasingly- texture is creeping in.  For every little bit of Spring is churning under foot, I can feel it- sometimes I hear it when I find myself upon a trail that is no trail at all, but a snow bank over a stream.  The gurgle of water trying to make it's way down a hillside after it's been trapped all season long in winter's imprisonment of ice- is to my ears a sweet and longing sound.  I stop and all is still, with the exception of that gurgle that brings all disappointments and worries to a halt.  One has to get out of one's way at times...I know no better escape than those wintry-teetering-on-breaking-into-spring walks.

Take care-

weather wise

The wind sure is whipping outside. The moon is full too. A few stars are hanging out just in case someone needs to plant a wish on them, other than that- the brightest ones are hiding beyond the darkness somewhere. The tallest of trees in my yard have hunkered down hard this winter, many of their branches have been ripped away. My exercise regimen this winter consisted mainly of picking up branches and repairing accidents I made with the tractor. The bog out the back door is waiting for it's next victim...even the dogs avoid this mud as best they can. Ahhhh...February- it can make or break a winter, it seems as though March is always hyped about so much of being a lion or a lamb. February is it's insane sister that no one talks about, the only thing ever mentioned is Valentine's day and the fact that the month is shortened by a few days. Having a month dedicated to love, fewer days and groundhogs too, ok- throw the president's birthdays in there...alright, but still weather wise- February is so misunderstood that we do not speak of it as much as we do the phenomenol March. We don't know what to make of her whirling winds, her outbursts of rain and her sometimes sunny days...February is like a hormonal woman, give her chocolate mid month...try to appease her. Oh well, I tried my best to shine a bit here today...
just in case the sun doesn't, remember- we're all in this together. And with that knowledge, be kind to everyone you meet today- February is such a struggle, for some, it's a wrestling match. We all need chocolate. March madness? Please. February is the queen of unpredictability. Shine on, shine on. Take care out there-

Glove Compartment Blues

"I was lost, double crossed...I didn't have no where to run, then I stood and looked, and my eyes got hooked, on that beautiful morning sun...And it seems like...yea, it feels like....yea it seems like....oh, it does feel like....A brand new day...Yea, yea, yea...a brand new day..." Van the Man Morrison

Have you ever heard that song? It's a really good one. Even though I ranted a bit last week (Ha! I was spittin' razor blades...) I will survive. I guess I've had a bit of those Glove Compartment Blues. What's that you ask?!?!? Picture my old Ford, (everything is old about her, original)-with her simple function, even her glove compartment operates on a buttoned single flange catch. I try to shove the truck registration, insurance info, screwdrivers, extra work gloves, what ever appears worthy enough to be kept instead of thrown away. Sometimes, when I get to driving down old back roads, rougher roads than most...that darn glove compartment comes flying open and all that other stuff spills out. So- not only do I have to try to keep the old girl between the ruts and miss the bumps, I am also trying to shove all those other things back into the glove compartment...trying to shut it back up in there so I can keep focused on the road ahead. Glove compartment blues. Life. Just when the pavement is nice, the sights are pleasant, the sun is shining...the road shifts to the left and bam! Huge cavernous pothole...the steering wheel seemingly gets jerked out of my hands, and wham!! Another pothole, the glove compartment comes flying open...stuff everywhere...the road just keeps getting bumpier...That's what grief is like, I can find no better description. In relationships, failures, death, unanswered prayers, unkindnesses, unfairnesses...the Glove Compartment Blues can just plum wear you out on top of everything else. I guess what I've been trying to do as of late, instead of shoving all that crap back in the glove compartment...I was trying to sift through it...while driving down a really rough road. Yep. Lost sight of where I was going. All I could see was the "stuff" everywhere, wanted for once to get rid of it. But I can't just throw it out the window, that would be littering- someone else would then have to deal with it. Nope. So I just shoved it all back in there for a time, and little by little- one piece at a time...I'll look at it and determine if it's worthy to keep, if it's essential to the journey. If not...it will make good kindling for a fire built with faith, failure, doubts and big ol' logs of hope. Be well. Take care-