Noteworthy and Noted

Welcome. Hasn't this been a beautiful Autumn Sunday? It's also been an exciting weekend. Yesterday's posting title, Transitions, was more accurate than I knew at the time. The daughter person and her Significant Other [SO] are now officially engaged. The ring happened late yesterday. I'm really happy for them. They seem good to and for each other. He may now officially be "Fiancee," but he'll always be SO to me. All of that and a Vikings win. (Does it count since it wasn't in this country?) What more could we Minnesotans want?

front yard clover and sunflowers     © harrington

This picture was taken this morning in front of the house. It shows (on the left) the way the clover has come in nicely. On the right, beneath the bird feeder full of sun flower seeds, are a number of sunflower plants starting to emerge. The birds (and squirrels) had dropped a bunch of seeds over the past few weeks. Recent rains caused them to germinate. Clearly, those seeds have no sense of the season. I'll be curious to see if any of them make it through the Winter. The local Audubon newsletter arrived a day or so ago. One of the writers mentioned that her hummingbird feeder had had only one visitor recently, presumed a migrant. I suppose that means I may as well bring in our humming bird feeder but I hate the idea of it not being there if migrants pass through. I have one more piece of interesting news from this weekend. Yesterday, as we were taking the dogs for their afternoon walk, what was curled up in the middle of the field entrance path but a salamander. I think that was the first salamander I've seen "in the wild" in Minnesota (and believe me, I've spent plenty of time in damp places out-of-doors). I didn't pay enough attention to be sure whether is was a tiger salamander or a spotted salamander, although I'm inclined to believe the latter. Sandra Beasley nicely covers several of today's topics in her poem.

The Piano Speaks

By Sandra Beasley

After Erik Satie

For an hour I forgot my fat self,
my neurotic innards, my addiction to alignment.

For an hour I forgot my fear of rain.

For an hour I was a salamander
shimmying through the kelp in search of shore,
and under his fingers the notes slid loose
from my belly in a long jellyrope of eggs
that took root in the mud. And what

would hatch, I did not know—
a lie. A waltz. An apostle of glass.

For an hour I stood on two legs
and ran. For an hour I panted and galloped.

For an hour I was a maple tree,
and under the summer of his fingers
the notes seeded and winged away

in the clutch of small, elegant helicopters.

Thanks for listening. Come again when you can. Rants, raves and reflections served here daily.