Another mixed bag

I’d be outside doing some yard work if not for a fresh hatch of deer flies that set upon the dogs and I a little earlier. I decided that today’s “better part of valor” was to freshen the permethrin spray on my bug hoodie and wait for the flies to die off a little. It’s not like I live in suburbia with a home owner’s association breathing down my neck. So, despite delightful weather, I’m inside learning to take the biter with the sweet.

turkey poults and hens

Photo by J. Harrington

Speaking of sweet, this morning brought to the back yard the first visit of the year by a flock of turkey poults, chaperoned by three hens showing the young’uns around the neighborhood. Their appearance brightened my spirits, which had been dampened by the past week’s political turmoil. I’m left with concern for the future of democracy and our species, since we seem to be losing the ability to govern ourselves effectively. At least I hope we don’t take the rest of nature with US. Thank heavens Mother Nature isn’t dependent on computers or Microsoft and CloudStrike software. (I refuse to make the obvious joke about different kinds of turkeys appearing on the same day.)

This Sunday we’re off to hear one of our favorite local authors, Kent Nerburn, at an art gallery about an hour north of our place. According to the description: Kent joins us to speak primarily on “what we as a dominant culture can learn from Native America” rather than on the art of writing. That’s a theme I’ve been exploring in my reading recently. Given Nerburn’s background, it should be interesting.

The Way In

By Linda Hogan

Sometimes the way to milk and honey is through the body.

Sometimes the way in is a song.

But there are three ways in the world: dangerous, wounding,

and beauty.

To enter stone, be water.

To rise through hard earth, be plant

desiring sunlight, believing in water.

To enter fire, be dry.

To enter life, be food.

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