Musing a November muse

This morning we took a break from day-to-day stuff and a couple of projects we're working on and kept a promise we made to ourself last week. We spent a few moments reading Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac chapter on November. [see p.10-11]

a sole survivor

Photo by J. Harrington

Although Wahoo is native to our current home county, our East coast, salt water fishing background keeps us thinking that it's a fish, not a bush. We're completely unsure whether to laugh or cry at Leopold's report that "The rabbit, despite his omnivorous appetite, is an epicure in some respects. He always prefers a hand-planted pine, maple, apple, or wahoo to a wild one." We experience this same behavior with rabbits, deer and pocket gophers. That explains why, over the two dozen or so fruit trees we've planted in our little patch of Anoka sand plain, only one pear tree is still standing. Maybe we'll try something different next Spring.

a troublemaker (for trees and bushes)

Photo by J. Harrington

Two of our favorite birds are mentioned prominently in November, the goose and the chickadee. The latter lives in our own little wood lot and takes advantage of our sunflower seeds. The former visits on occasion and lives during breeding season in the marshes a mile or so West of our property. Their Spring honks are one on the years most heart-warming sounds we know of.

a favorite, Winter or Summer

Photo by J. Harrington

Although there are many shortcomings in the world today, there are also many sources of hope and joy. Not the least of these are children. Today is World Children's Day Please help celebrate it for your sake as well as theirs.

                     Names of Children

By Rachel Sherwood

In early morning when the sun

is vague and birds are furious

names of children float

like smoke through the empty room:

Ariadne, dark as seal skin

Ian, fair-skinned baby

Marina   Terrence   Alex   John

after dinner   pulled back from

talk of war and morals

their names glow like light

around a candle —

Jack, my rampant youngest son

Celia, my daughter who sings

but no children call from other rooms

no soft faces turn to kiss

each guest goodnight

or whisper that stars are a giant's eyes

there is only the slow still wait

through the opaque night

for morning and more names.

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.