Category Archives: Arts

Declaration

Two years, two months, two days.
Henry Thoreau was wary of symbols

thoughts and things that go two
by two into the ark of the mind.

And when he took time off, absconded
with it to the pond on July 4th,

1845, he scoffed at those who saw
declaration of independence, in truth

he might have said, I am more
dependent than ever, on this pond

on this earth, on these feet, not
to mention the sky that shines

in the water, a medium really
for seeing up and down, for

seeing two ways at once, a unity
upon which I row my boat and

in which I bathe every day.

Walden water

Walden water

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Filed under Arts, Environment, General, Henry David Thoreau, Literature, Living Deliberately, Nature, News and Events, The Roost, Walden

Rite of Spring

Many of us have such a rite, often a private moment or meandering that initiates the season. Henry Thoreau, as noted a few posts ago, made ritual of getting his boat onto the river, often forcing the nascent spring into narrow leads of water in the still-dominant ice. There is an excited cadence to his journal’s prose as he caulks his boat, readies for its seasonal baptism.

My own ritual requires a little travel, and so sometimes it must wait a little deeper into this season. But on May’s 3rd day, I awoke and looked up at the mountain I must climb to say, “It’s spring.” That I would climb also back into some north-side drifts of snow and ice made me feel kin to Thoreau as he rowed and shoved his boat through the ice to reach Fairhaven; we both would get to this expansive season, even through ice.

Spring invites all sorts of rites, including, of course, the 6th’s remembrance of Henry Thoreau’s full short life.

The following photos form an impressionistic saunter from the day’s trail And you? Let us know your rite/s?

Morning's (glacial) erratic - what animal within?

Morning’s (glacial) erratic – what animal within?

Yesterday's moose - note: I have spared you photos of scat.

Yesterday’s moose – note: I have spared you photos of scat.

The centerpoint from the south.

The centerpoint from the south.

Short snooze on the day's first summit. Looking north.

Short snooze on the day’s first summit. Looking north.

Weather shifts; Washington shows white in the distance.

Weather shifts; Washington shows white in the distance.

Centerpoint peak up close

Centerpoint peak up close

 

Rock and Sky - up there

Rock and Sky – up there

 

Summit inscription from Henry's era.

Summit inscription from Henry’s era.

 

The day's "crux" - a 100' descent of steep ice.

The day’s “crux” – a 100′ descent of steep ice.

 

Afternoon's erratic , lichen-starred quartz. Animal within?

Afternoon’s erratic , lichen-starred quartz. Animal within?

 

Down to the day's flowers - Downy Violet

Down to the day’s flowers – Downy Violet

 

Trout Lily

Trout Lily

 

Tomorrow's trillium

Tomorrow’s trillium

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Arts, General, Henry David Thoreau, Living Deliberately, Nature, News and Events, The Roost

In Celebration of “the Citizenry of All Things within One World”

Earth Day 1856

I could have chosen randomly
leafing through their pages
pausing here say or

there – so rich
are their records that
even the page-skipper-

bird that I am soon finds
a twig a branch a point
from which to fly

and I can be sure
of a song recorded
somewhere in italics -

chirr whee – to denote
what’s heard
day after day as

they set out to find themselves.

Who then can resist “sailing
in the rain” on April 22, 1856
or sailing with today’s rain coming

on, or the rippling east wind
and finding that even Henry
tried as he held the tiller

to hold too an umbrella
to keep himself dry? Or
knowing that a sudden

“seizure of happiness”
can come on at walk’s end
on this quietest of mornings?

Two Voices: Henry Thoreau and Mary Oliver

Here then, in celebration of this 22nd, are short excerpts from two voices that I turn to when I want to hear from and of the earth, which is another way of saying every day.

Soon after I turned about in Fair Haven Pond, it began to rain hard. The wind was but little south of east and therefore not very favorable for my voyage. I raised my sail and, cowering under my umbrella in the stern, wearing the umbrella like a cap and holding the handle between my knees, I steered and paddled almost perfectly sheltered from the heavy rain…From time to time, from under my umbrella, I could see the ducks spinning away from me, like great bees…But though my progress was slow and laborious, and at length I began to get a little wet, I enjoyed the adventure because it combined to some extent the advantages of being at home in my chamber and abroad in the storm at the same time.
- Henry Thoreau, Journal, April 22, 1856

Rain comes on

Rain comes on

Once, years ago, I emerged from the woods in the early morning at the end of a walk and – it was the most casual of moments – as I stepped from under the trees into the mild, pouring-down sunlight I experienced a sudden impact, a seizure of happiness. It was not the drowning sort of happiness, rather the floating sort. I made no struggle toward it; it was given. Time seemed to vanish. Urgency vanished. Any important difference between myself and all other things vanished. I knew that I belonged to the world and felt comfortably my own containment in the totality. I did not feel that I understood any mystery, not at all; rather that I could be happy and feel blessed within the perplexity – the summer morning, its gentleness, the sense of the great work being done though the grass where I stood scarcely trembled. As I say, it was the most casual of moments, not mystical as the word is usually meant, for there was no vision, or anything extraordinary at all, but only a sudden awareness of the citizenry of all things within one world: leaves, dust, thrushes and finches, men and women. And yet it is a moment I have never forgotten, and upon which I have based many decisions in the years since.
- Mary Oliver, from the essay “The Perfect Days” in the book Long Life.

End-of-walk flower

End-of-walk flower

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