24 March 2017

Tree Wanderers - Up Grant Creek, Missoula, Montana

"Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!"

-John Muir (1838-1914)

23 March 2017

Ship Shape Clouds - Victor, Montana

"...Only for the turning of the earth in her holy
Heart! Slyly, slowly, hearing the wound in her side go 
Round the sun, he comes to my love like the designed snow, 
And truly he 
Flows to the strand of flowers like the dew's ruly sea, 
And surely he sails like the ship shape clouds. 
Oh he 

Comes designed to my love to steal not her tide raking 
Wound, nor her riding high, nor her eyes, nor kindled hair, 
But her faith that each vast night and the saga of prayer 

He comes to take...
Ever and ever by all your vows believe and fear 
My dear this night he comes and night without end my dear                                          

Since you were born: 
And you shall wake, from country sleep, this dawn and each first dawn, 
Your faith as deathless as the outcry of the ruled sun."

- From In country sleep II, by Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), 
published in the volume Collected Poems, 1934-1952

Read the full text of this poem and more from Dylan Thomas here,
 thanks to Project Gutenberg of Australia. (And be sure to read his collection's introductory Note.
Hidden gems abound in Author notes and acknowledgements!)

20 March 2017

Poplars Under Stormy Spring Sky - Victor, Montana

"...The people pass through the dust
On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars;
The waggoners go by at dawn;
The lovers walk on the grass path at night.

Stir from your roots, walk, poplar!
You are more beautiful than they are..."

- from The Poplar by Richard Aldington (1892-1962)

Happy early Spring! Click here to be charmed by the full read of this winsome poem, and satisfy your minds-eye yearning for spring imagery.

18 March 2017

Almost-Spring Storm Clouds - Bitterroot Valley, Montana

Despite stormy clouds rolling from the west over the Rocky Mountains, we're pushing 50 degrees F on a beautiful Bitterroot almost-spring morning!

17 March 2017

Splash of Green for St. Patrick's Day - Missoula, Montana

Perfect timing for a montage of almost-spring grreens - literally and liberally splashed with melodious melt water.

For endless fun and parental irritation, print them out to make your very own flip book! 

(Yes, these springward sprites were brought to you - again! - courtesy of inelegant crouching. 
For you, I would do this, and I don't say this to just anyone!)

Enjoy the lovely Irish Day!

16 March 2017

River Rush - Clark Fork River, Missoula, Montana

"I grew up in this town, 
my poetry was born 
between the hill and the river, 
it took its voice from the rain, 
and like the timber, 
it steeped itself in the forests."

- Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

14 March 2017

Rest and Motion - Missoula, Montana

"When by the discipline of His Divine guidance,
 we know Him,
 and He going with us
 gives us Rest,
 then Time and Eternity are merged
 and lost
 in that amazing vital relationship. 

The union is one not of mystic contemplation,
 but of intense perfection of activity,
 not the Rest of the placid peace of stagnation,
 but the Rest of perfect motion..."

13 March 2017

On Seeing - Missoula, Montana

"I have been so young till this moment that all my life now seems to have been a kind of sleep. I have thought that I was being carried, and behold, I was walking."

Ransom asked what she meant.

"What you have made me see," answered the Lady, "is as plain as the sky, but I never saw it before. Yet it has happened every day. One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one's mind. Then, it may be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given. 
But this I had never noticed before--that the very moment of the finding there is in the mind a kind of thrusting back, or setting aside. The picture of the fruit you have not found is still, for a moment, before you. 
And if you wished--if it were possible to wish--you could keep it there. You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other."

- from PerelandraChapter Five, by C.S. Lewis (1898-1963)