Tag Archives: Nature

Positive thinking

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I was not made for this weather. Snowbirds, they will go south for the winter — but me, I will be the one who moves north in the summer — I will go as far as climate change pushes me — some far off crag off the coast of Nova Scotia please. . .

Tonight, a little January poem — because my brain is melting.

Without the cold – what would we have to talk about?
Where would our small talk go?
If it were always fifty, or sixty-two,
how would we start our conversations?

“Gosh, it’s another mild one out there today”.
“Yah? Heard it’s going to be even milder tomorrow”.

What would we Tweet pictures of in the morning?
How boring is the digital thermometer that reads
“63”?

And how could we even begin to appreciate
the breath of spring,
if we hadn’t watched our own breath
freeze as we trudged out to work in the am?

Winter, this cold, is necessary-
Feel it  in my bones.
Bones, that ache a little in the morning,
remind me of my age. 

This kind of cold forces you to huddle inside.
You must build fires,
heat your house,
make your own light.

You must cook soup in this weather,
bake cookies.
you must huddle your hands around
your morning coffee, a little tighter.

For – what would we dream of,
if not for winter.
Would we crave  beaches
and bathing suit straps pushed askew?
Would we want for the luxury
of walking outside without a jacket?

We can not love the warmth,
can not bask in the sun,
if we do not suffer the bleak
of midwinter.

 

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To the the swelter. . .

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Heat makes me all crazy.
Or, more crazy-
The haze and the
breathing in of
ozone.

Makes my temper rise
quicker,
my patience
grow
thinner.

I hate the way everything
sticks
to everything else,
or how the car seeps
heat and the ac doesn’t touch it.

Today,
and the only
solution,
is hot dogs,
and kids running around
in their underwear,
and ice cream.
And a beer, cold.
And the sound from the blades
of an old box fan,
that quiets the crazy.

The Well-Marked Trail

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Yesterday, yesterday I was behind two people younger and far more in shape than me, as we made our way through part of the Robert Frost Trail.  I’ll be honest, if you were my friend, and you asked, “Tara, what would you like to do tomorrow, on your day off, while the kids are in day care, and the sun is shining?” Sitting in the garden at Esselon would probably be my first answer – while doing nearly seven miles of hills and dales, my last.  It’s not that I don’t dig nature – or love a pretty look-out, or enjoy  conversations that meander like the trail –but hiking, it makes me feel old. Read the rest of this entry

Two things in contrast at 10:14pm

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The World is Too Much With Us

by William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;

The winds that will be howling at all hours,

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,

For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

It moves us not.–Great God! I’d rather be

A pagan suckled in a creed outworn;

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

1806