Today being the Winter Solstice, I set out with the intention to photograph both the sunrise and the sunset.I’ve been starting work early these days, so I actually took my lunch hour (very) early and set out at 7:30 to catch the sunrise.The last several days have been completely overcast, so I felt so lucky that the skies were partially clear.The clouds were amazing!After work, I set out for my favorite sunset-watching spot, anticipating a crowd, it being Solstice and all.There was only one other dedicated sunset-watcher there (not just drifting by to take a selfie and then moving on).I said to this woman, “I’m so surprised there aren’t more people here for the Solstice!”She answered, “Yeah, Summer Solstice gets all the love.” Well, I love you, dear Winter Solstice. I love you with all my heart. Welcome back, dear Sun.
Two weeks ago I dropped Chris off at the airport – his first film job since covid began. He gets back tonight, and will be quarantining in a separate part of the house until he gets a covid test later in the week. Even though we will be somewhat apart after he gets home, it will be nice to have him back. His job often takes him away, but this is the first time he’s been gone while I am also working remotely. The isolation has been weird, and makes me realize just how hard this must be for people like Sam, his only actual human interaction being his work at Panera and one in-person class a week. Sam and I talk a few times a day these days, but the telephone is no substitute for actually being in the presence of another person.
I’ve leaned more heavily on the natural world during these last two weeks. Driving out to the sunset when the weather permits, going for my morning walks. I bought a new bird feeder for the back yard. It is supposedly squirrel proof, and so far (I’ve had it for 24 hours now) that appears to be true. The squirrels have given it many quizzical looks, have tentatively climbed part-way up the pole, but have not been able to figure out how to access the food. I’m taking videos of their attempts and will post them here sometime soon.
As I gain more experience taking photos, I have found that my best photos result not from any technical skill that I have (which is minimal at this point!), but from my ability to pay really good attention to what is around me. This paying attention is also a skill that I find gets better with practice. I spend many minutes just watching the trees and feeder outside my kitchen window before the birds even show up. Most of the photos I take get deleted off the memory stick immediately (if I had a nickel for every photo of a bird that ended up not actually containing a bird, I’d have a lot of nickels). The watching ends up being a type of meditative practice. I am so focused on being ready when a bird shows up that all of the usual unhelpful inner chatter that goes on in my head gets pushed aside.
The leaves have all fallen to the ground now, and I spent a couple of hours yesterday raking the last ones up and dragging them to the curb, where they will be vacuumed up by the city this week. The once lushly leafed trees look so vulnerable in their bare state. There is a red-bellied woodpecker that hangs out in my back yard, and he hammers away quite vigorously at the bark of my beloved trees, searching for insects to eat. As beautiful as he is, I sometimes find myself wishing that he would eat elsewhere. Still, I’m sure the trees will survive it. The benefit to having the trees so bare is that I can see (and photograph) the birds better now, which is such a source of pleasure.
Mary Oliver once said in a poem, “To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” She also said “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” The idea of paying attention runs throughout her work, and is evident in her loving and lavish descriptions of the natural world. Paying attention to nature has become so important to me, and such a source of solace for me, during this pandemic. And I’m finding that once I practice paying attention in one part of my life, it spills over into others. That, I’m learning, makes the work of gratitude (and it can sometimes be hard work) so much easier. Attention may be the beginning of devotion, but I think it is also the beginning of gratitude.
What is a vlalk, you ask? I just invented the word – it’s a cross between a vlog and a walk. Quite dangerous, especially where there are roots and fallen branches about. 🙂
This is one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems (I apologize for the poor quality of the image – I haven’t figured out yet how to format poetry on this blog, so I have to resort to photos of poems). I’ve written here before that “Sun in My Face” was one of the names I considered for this blog. The sun makes me so happy – not just the fact that without it I wouldn’t exist, but whenever it decides to show its face it just makes my day.
I’m not what is typically considered a “sun worshiper,” although I was as a young person. I loved the deep tan – thought it made me look healthy, and let’s face it I thought it made me look more attractive. Oh well, the folly of youth. That particular habit is coming back to haunt me (hello, basal cell carcinoma), but that is an entire post in itself. No, I don’t sit outside in the sun unprotected for any significant length of time anymore, but I love the sun. It gives me such a feeling of well being even to look outside through a window and see that it is sunny outside. I know that this isn’t just me – we all feel better on sunny days than we do when it is dark and gray outside. Bright sun helps to regulate our circadian clocks, improves mood, and triggers our bodies to produce Vitamin D. It’s a good thing, as Martha says. Just don’t get too much of it.
I’m loving the weather we are having just lately here in northeast Ohio. Sunny, warm, but with an edge of coolness in the morning. To me, this is perfection. I am soaking in every one of these gorgeous days. Chris and I continue to walk three laps around the neighborhood every morning around 7, which is a highlight of my day. It’s quiet, except for the birds and the occasional cement truck (the city is replacing portions of sidewalk on our block that have been pushed up by tree roots, an endeavor which they undertook last year as well and which resulted in several trees dying).
We have put away the seed bird feeder for the summer and have put up a hummingbird feeder with the hopes of attracting some hummingbirds to our back yard. We’ve tried before – put up a feeder, hung out some red flowers we thought they’d like. That effort resulted in one very fleeting sighting of a hummingbird and a deer coming right up to our house in broad daylight to eat all the flowers. I could have shooed the deer away, I guess, but it was pretty hilarious. So, we’re trying again.
Sam and I have been on some bike rides around the neighborhood and through our little park. I love the incomparable feeling of freedom you get coasting downhill, but pedaling uphill reminded me that there are some muscles I haven’t used in a long time.
I hope you’re enjoying the weather where you are (sorry that it’s winter there, Chloe!) and that you have a wonderful weekend.
I love poetry. When I taught third grade, poetry was a big thing in my classroom. Every week my students would get a new poem for their Poetry Folder, which they would have to practice reading out loud to someone in their household each night. What I was trying to teach my students was a fluency skill called prosody, which is being able to use your voice to give meaning to the written word through intonation, rhythm, and emphasis. Have you ever struggled to understand the written word, such as perhaps in a Shakespeare play, and then upon seeing it acted out you completely understood the words? That’s the power of prosody.
On Fridays the students would perform the poem for their classmates, and the more shy ones were able to choose the “perform with a partner” option. In the month of April we would have Poetry Month, during which the students practiced writing different forms of poetry. Poetry Month culminated in an event called Poetry Cafe. Students would choose two poems to perform, either alone or with a partner. The poems could be written by themselves, a poem we worked on during the year, or some other poem they found in a book. I staged it like a beatnik coffee house of the 1950’s – the students wore black t-shirts and sunglasses, and the audience was encouraged to snap their fingers instead of clapping. There were, of course, refreshments afterwards. What an absolute blast!
After I left teaching to pursue a less stressful job option (haha!), poetry kind of dropped out of my life for a few years. Then about three years ago, my brother Richard, out of the blue, sent me the collection of Mary Oliver poems called “Devotions.” Mary Oliver is the poet who wrote the poem “The Summer Day” which includes the famous phrase, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I savored the book from cover to cover. I don’t pray these days, but Mary Oliver’s poetry feels the way the best prayer should – it elevates my spirit, gives me hope, and reminds me that both all of us and none of us is alone.
When I mulled over the writing of this post over the last couple of days, I knew that I wanted to share a poem with you. The problem is that I have so many favorites! Then my friend Daniel, in his blog Dawn Reader, shared this post about the poem “Summer Kitchen” by Donald Hall. The poem describes a prosaic evening shared between a man and a woman – in the words of the poem they “ate, and talked, and went to bed. And slept” – then ends by saying, “It was a miracle.”
Because isn’t every day truly a miracle?
I told Daniel that the vibe of “Summer Kitchen” reminded me of another poem that I love, and that I was going to steal his idea and share that poem here. Here it is:
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. I’ll see you back here soon.
