While staying in my old bedroom at my mom’s house over the weekend, I heard a bunch of chirping out the window and discovered this nest of baby robins in the pine tree right outside. (I have to note that this pine tree was my grandma’s christmas tree when she was a child –she grew up in the same house– and it now towers over the house). I was taken back to when I arrived in Kansas in 2009 — I was staying in this room and about a week after I arrived I found that there was a nest right outside my window. I got to watch the entire process from egg-laying until they flew the coop, and I documented the whole thing on camera. I blogged about it a few times and you can find a post HERE (with links to related posts within).
I put my work on hold and spent part of Saturday watching my family *try to* catch fish and roaming around the lake with my camera. I’ll be spending the last dark hours of early Sunday morning outdoors as well watching the lyrids meteor shower from a so-far clear, moonless sky. I left my tripod at home and instead bought a reclining lawn chair so I wouldn’t be tempted to try to catch any meteors on camera (the excitement of it is akin to catching a fish, I suppose.. Except I don’t have a worm to attract them). Instead I’ll just be spectating. More lake photos to come..
I read the following poem this morning on Jorma Kaukonen’s blog Cracks In The Finish and thought I’d like to share it here.
Instructions
Give up the world; give up self; finally, give up God.
Find god in rhododendrons and rocks,
passers-by, your cat.
Pare your beliefs, your absolutes.
Make it simple; make it clean.
No carry-on luggage allowed.
Examine all you have
with a loving and critical eye, then
throw away some more.
Repeat. Repeat.
Keep this and only this:
what your heart beats loudly for
what feels heavy and full in your gut.
There will only be one or two
things you will keep,
and they will fit lightly
in your pocket.
-Sheri Hostetler, from A Cappella: Mennonite Voices in Poetry
I’ll (hopefully — weather/ clouds permitting) be out in the wee hours of Sunday morning, possibly with my camera, checking out the peak of the Lyrids meteor shower. Click here for a photo I captured of a Perseid meteor in 2009. I’ve taken my camera out for one meteor shower since this, but I often just opt to enjoy the shower instead of worrying about my shutter button, so we shall see.
Find more information about this weekend’s meteor shower from The Farmers’ Almanac.
“She often used the word ‘sun’ or an image of the sun to signify a person or an idea that she found particularly enlightening or clear eyed- someone who was a visionary.”
Breaking from the day-to-day to take in some necessary nature in really nice weather after a slow walk to the post office and coffee shop. I just watched a pair of cardinals sharing a small meal, but I was too slow to retrieve my camera. The bright red of the male cardinal looked so nice with the green leaves against the blue sky.. Good color combination.
When you wake to the dream of now
from night and its other dream,
you carry day out of the dark
like a flame.
When spring comes north and flowers
unfold from earth and its even sleep,
you lift summer on with your breath
lest it be lost ever so deep.
Your life you live by the light you find
and follow it on as well as you can,
carrying through darkness wherever you go
your one little fire that will start again.
