Lagunitas, CA - Spring 2013
The truth is, I haven't seen the Tabby cat in a week, with its feral-fat tail and stocky confidence. Has it claimed some other back ally in these woods, or get claimed by a 'coon? Meanwhile, the Siamese proudly paused in the morning orchard light, head high, rump tucked, big blue eyes an ocean of seeing and knowing. What a beautiful creature of black, tan and blue. And her seeing with those eyes...
Like so many days, I started this day with a piping hot cup of tea and a sit spot on the hill near the garden, to be held by the Earth and to listen. The grasses have been growing so tall and fast on these warm days that my morning path from yesterday was still apparent, and the day before. I like going a different way each time when my prints are heavy, and I've run out of new ways, it seems. It's become a funny dilemma for me each time (how can I, which way do I...?), and still I manage to get there to sit and listen with tall grasses, firs and sky. I love that spot. My heart drops in each time I land there, knowing that that spot holds me so well. Knowing that eventually, no matter how lonely, I'll be heart-moved by this wild place again. It happens every time, when I say hello and ask for it, when I listen.
With a symphony of Juncos, Towhees and Quail, and a surprise tickle on my right hand, I looked down upon this stickly creature poised mid-canopy in the grasses, like a gentle samurai up high in a bamboo forest, waiting. This little cranefly, with its very long everywhere legs, brushed my hand while adjusting its precarious way in the dew-covered grasses. "Oh, hello little creature... Are you too dew damp to fly now?" What a tender moment. It waited and I watched, for a loooong time. The rising sun was climbing high, as it does, dependably, every single day, thankfully, with dappled light just beginning to touch some sparkling dew. It still had a ways to go and yet its power already felt by all, awake or not. Even those too weak, scared or deep to climb up high were still being kissed by the light. It's what light does with the damp darkness. Kissed by the light. And the cranefly still waited while I watched, not yet ready to let the grasses go and fly. Then I spotted another one just left of my knee, same pose, waiting. I smiled in good company this morning, I too needing the light to fly.
And I wondered, what will this Siamese see and play with next?
The truth is, I haven't seen the Tabby cat in a week, with its feral-fat tail and stocky confidence. Has it claimed some other back ally in these woods, or get claimed by a 'coon? Meanwhile, the Siamese proudly paused in the morning orchard light, head high, rump tucked, big blue eyes an ocean of seeing and knowing. What a beautiful creature of black, tan and blue. And her seeing with those eyes...
Like so many days, I started this day with a piping hot cup of tea and a sit spot on the hill near the garden, to be held by the Earth and to listen. The grasses have been growing so tall and fast on these warm days that my morning path from yesterday was still apparent, and the day before. I like going a different way each time when my prints are heavy, and I've run out of new ways, it seems. It's become a funny dilemma for me each time (how can I, which way do I...?), and still I manage to get there to sit and listen with tall grasses, firs and sky. I love that spot. My heart drops in each time I land there, knowing that that spot holds me so well. Knowing that eventually, no matter how lonely, I'll be heart-moved by this wild place again. It happens every time, when I say hello and ask for it, when I listen.
With a symphony of Juncos, Towhees and Quail, and a surprise tickle on my right hand, I looked down upon this stickly creature poised mid-canopy in the grasses, like a gentle samurai up high in a bamboo forest, waiting. This little cranefly, with its very long everywhere legs, brushed my hand while adjusting its precarious way in the dew-covered grasses. "Oh, hello little creature... Are you too dew damp to fly now?" What a tender moment. It waited and I watched, for a loooong time. The rising sun was climbing high, as it does, dependably, every single day, thankfully, with dappled light just beginning to touch some sparkling dew. It still had a ways to go and yet its power already felt by all, awake or not. Even those too weak, scared or deep to climb up high were still being kissed by the light. It's what light does with the damp darkness. Kissed by the light. And the cranefly still waited while I watched, not yet ready to let the grasses go and fly. Then I spotted another one just left of my knee, same pose, waiting. I smiled in good company this morning, I too needing the light to fly.
And I wondered, what will this Siamese see and play with next?
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