We flushed a blue heron in an unlikely spot–just down the block at my neighbor’s far corner of his property, where there was a little creek.  It must have been drinking its water.  It just surprised me.  I never would have expected to see one there.

I mentioned it to someone I “bumped” into at the local supermarket and he declared they are everywhere and eat the bass in the river and also trout in other streams.  He complained the state will fine you $200 if you kill one.  And said they are so numerous they do not need the state’s protection.  I just shrugged my shoulder and continued walking down the aisle.

They could have been swallows.  I saw dozens alight on that wire and swirl above.  I never saw swallows migrate before.  It was early morning and they were over a mile away from water.  If I had to guess, they were cliff swallows.  I spotted them going through the “back way” into town.  I was surprised to see them.  Now is the time I usually see flocks of small blackbirds come through.  I still saw a hummingbird feed on my nectar today.  At least one has not decided to migrate.  Temperatures have fallen–the seventies.  Summer does not end for another three weeks.  There is no doubt Autumn has come already.

I Still Watch My Plants

Author: siggy

I still watch my plants.  I am still amazed by them.  Like they are run by some invisible clock, they grow or get bigger.  And I keep a close eye on them when they do this.  Even when they remain dormant, I keep an eye on them.  And rejoice when they start growing.  I am not alone in this pursuit.  A lot of people have house plants.  The proper light and sufficient water is usually all the care they need.  If only our needs were so simple.  It is others who watch our growth.  We can’t see it so easily.  Plants are easier to detect whether they are getting proper nourishment.  Although for both patience is needed and time is a factor.

A Few Discoveries Today

Author: siggy

I made a few discoveries today.  When I drove to the post office and passed the meadow nearby I spotted two male red winged blackbirds dive bombing each other.  I am not sure what they were doing except they may have been fighting for their own territory.

To see two at one time was a real treat and so close to home.  Then when I was driving to Newport along the Juniata River I saw what appeared to be a blue heron perched on a branch on this side of the river.

Later in the distance at the mouth of a tributary a great egret was wading in the water.  I also used to see a blue heron always in the same pond, same spot.

I realized last winter something was wrong when it was still in the same spot after the pond froze over.  To my chagrin I was looking at a statue of one all along.

Those were a few of my bird discoveries today.  A turkey vulture reluctantly left the road and his prey when I came across it.  I watched it fly away slowly.  I never know what bird I will see and always have my eyes open for the next discovery.

Death and renewal are connected:  the lesson my plants taught me.  I watch my house plants closely.  Right now I am watching my rubber plant.  So many leaves have dried up.

I keep giving it more water–to no avail.  It is in a warm room.  I noticed it has become taller.  It is stretching to capture the sunlight.  Although many leaves have dried up, it is not dead by any mean.

Plants adjust to their environment all the time.  Some leaves dry up.  Sometimes you may not water one enough so some leaves die so other can get enough water.  There is a close relationship between death and renewal.

That is one lesson I can learn watching my plants’ growth.  Those two are always connected.  Sometimes there can’t be renewal until there is death.  We can learn that lesson from observing our houseplants.

Sometimes that means you have to give up a goal and shift your attention elsewhere.  Or someone dear to you may die before you start to grow again.

The same pattern always follows.  In the words of Bob Dylan, and this is a paraphrase from one of his songs:  you have to be busy dying before you can live.

And no one said there would be no pain in the process.  There is just part of it.  From death, comes birth.  It is that simple.  A lesson observing plants (and nature) taught me.

The Upcoming Snowstorm

Author: siggy

The area was rife with rumor

I simply waited

I don’t trust weather forecasts

I kept though peering at the sky

Waiting for the first flakes

I even took some

Precautions:

Filled up my tub

With water

An outage

Could demonstrate

How much water

We wasted every day

And assume

Will always be there

Flushing the toilet

Reminds us of this

The supermarkets

Were impossibly busy

Yesterday

As if everyone

Needed bread and eggs

I viewed all this

With sorrow

We all should

Have this problem

Thousands of miles

Away

An country

Has millions

With nothing

They own

But their backs

And many broken

Waiting

Waiting

and despair

Unimaginable

And we are afraid

Of a few flakes

Every act you undertake indicates a level of faith.  My wife and I planted some pussy willows that have sprouted in water.  Frost is a week or two away.  And there was part of me that thought it was too late to plant them.

Nevertheless, we planted them.  We knew the plants would not survive in the house and the only way we would have a chance for the plants to sprout was to plant them despite the lateness of the season.

We also planted them together so we can enjoy them later if they took hold and grew.  Gardening always takes faith.  Even tending plants indoors.  You try to do the right thing:  place the plant correctly according to the light and give it sufficient water.  Evey act requires faith.  This is a small example but every act is based on a certain level of faith–some more.

I stood at the River’s banks.  Usually after I had coffee and sometimes breakfast at the local diner on the way home I would stop at the bank of the River and gaze out at the surface of the water and the mountains.  I never spent a long time there.

It has been several months since I was at this spot.  The wind was blowing on the surface of water stirring it up.  It was not too cold and not too warm.  Rain clouds were in the distance.

Fall had come.  There was a slight chill in the air although I really wasn’t cold yet.  Coming here is always like entering another world.  Sure I often pass the River from a distance but peering out from its shore is always a different experience.

Too much time had passed from my last visit.  Now I no longer wanted to be here.  It was a little uncomfortable although it still was a mild sixty-two degrees.  I knew I would now only view the River from a distance until it got warmer again.

There was some regret:  too much time had passed since my last visit.  I had missed too much.  Its face is always different:  The lighting is always different on the sky, water and mountains and trees.  Every visit.  I now will await the warmer weather.