Daily Practice
Journal
A bit of meditation - on summer and nature ....
Summer - warm, often hot days, flowers and vegetables growing, time on the porch, in the water, time for leisure.
This summer, perhaps because it hasn't yet been as dry or as unbearably hot as it has been over the last few years, reminds me of the first years C and I 'farmed' our own food and I was working from home. Each morning, just after sun-up and before the heat of the day, I'd take my basket and walk among the dewed plants, picking the ripe vegetables, cutting flowers, 'communing' with the pollinating bees. How I LOVED that time!
Since commuting so far to a different job, I've so missed that time of living on and with the land. But THIS year, for some reason, I seem to be spending more time in the small gardens I can 'almost' manage on the weekends. I'm tending to invading insects, picking finally ripened tomatoes, fruits, herbs, flowers -- and rendering them for winter use and storage - much as I did on a far larger scale 10 years ago.
In a most generous comment (among many I thank you for!!!!), Berryf (http://www.flickr.com/photos/berryfs/) said that my painting yesterday " was..."very serene, becoming a great hallmark of your paintings." I was so touched by these words, especially because I don't see myself in my frenetic workworld as serene. So I asked C if HE thought I was serene. He said that in many ways I was - especially when I was out in the garden or painting. And again, I was surprised -- do we ever see ourselves as others do?? or our work??? LOL
Another kind flickr friend (http://www.flickr.com/photos/beegirl211/) who is urban homesteading, raises bees and so reminds me of what I was doing ten years ago --- I just love to see what she's up too!
So both of these friends inspired me to take a walk among my many bookcases. I found an often read book that still speaks to me, reminds me of these generous friends, and reminds me of summer. It's a poem from the book "Becoming Bread" by
Gunilla Norris, entitled "Summer:"
Let the golden honey run
out of the jar. Let the water
be sweetened in our mixing bowl.
Three giant spoonfuls
of Summer-nectar, sunshine,
the hum of bees, warm nights,
and ourselves in the grass.
Three giant spoonfuls of Summer
sweetening the water in the mixing bowl.
We need this liquid gold
to remember the goodness
of life...the taste of honey.
The memory of Summer ...
that it returns, that at the center
the open flower is sweet.
That at the center
when it opens, we too are sweet,
and love, like a swarm of bees,
can fly into us...estatic,
nectar-drunk and
powdered with pollen.
Our bread will have this
poured-from-the-center
rich gold...three girant spoonfuls.
May YOUR summer, and today, be as rich as golden honey.
And thank you, my dear friends, for your encouragement, kindness and friendship ... YOU are my honey.
Lin Frye
North Carolina
He is finished and delights me. He reminded me of how much I love birds and watching their behavior. And if it is a bird I've seen many times, I learn more about them and their personalities with each encounter.
On the day of this sketch, I was sitting in Red-shouldered hawk territory, patiently waiting for hawk action, having been previously given hawk-style instructions that this spot was okay but the neighboring nest yard was not. While I waited, Mr. Wren appeared with this twig in his mouth chirping. Not only did he parade around on the patio searching here and there, holding it high in his beak, he landed on the iron fence and sang about it in all directions.
The more you watch birds while walking, sipping coffee, with camera in hand or a paint brush or while simply relaxing, the more they will join you, entertain, invite you to smile and give you tiny glimpses into their avian world of enchantment.
