The front is big and black, predicts that the early part of winter will be severe. Look out east coast, as the storm rises from the south, working its way up the coast!
A friend pointed out to me an article in The Conservationist, a circular that encompasses New York State wildlife. An Emerson fan, she thought of me when the author of an article spoke of Emerson. Naturally drawn to Emerson, I looked up the article, Chomping at Nature’s Bit by Eli Knapp. There it was. “Adapt the pace of nature, her secret is patience.”
I can agree with this concept. Nature is very patient. She wait for us to mess up, then she calmly takes over. Paved roads break up while she takes over. Brush grows up in fields that the farmer has kept plowed, our neglect becomes her tapestry.
I have forbidden the groundhog hunt here on our civilized patch. Build more garden, share it, I say (I’m not the one building the garden, easy for me to say). Then again, if you need to remove them, do not ever let me know. I cannot bear the thought. I’m definitely a human heart here, while they live on instinct, and the reality of the world is that, if we want to keep our crops for harvest, we need to limit their “help” in harvesting!
Back to the subject at hand, Emerson and Nature. I encourage you to read his essay. Absorb it. Be patient with it.
In patience, I seek a word from this essay to inspire you, my readers, to seek. Difficult at the least, I send you this: Nature is loved by what is best in us. It is loved as the city of God. I dare not say more, at least, not now. Emerson is difficult in that we cannot take mere quotes and have them realized in and of themselves, they must be coupled with the rest of the essay. The one thing I have learned from Emerson can bring my defeat as his follower: Lay this volume down. You had better never see my essays than to be warped by their attraction out of your own orbit and be made my satellite. Then let me lay this volume down, and step outdoors where my dog absorbs nature, she is my lesson. As are the birds, the groundhog, and the breeze which blows against my face.
The farmer said, “There are baby ducks on the pond, with their mother.” So I went to see what I could see, grabbing the DSLR from it’s dusty shelf.
The ducklings and mama hurriedly raced through the water and ducked behind the island for safety, and out of view. I waited, but they stayed. I turned and walked up a bit, to see if I could take in the barn with the tree in the foreground, when suddenly …
“Mom? Is that you? What are you doing up here? You’re not supposed to be here!” said Eliza. She steps closer…
She stared at my as if to let me know it was not my place to be there, but hers. So I started down the hill. Satisfied, she walked away…
There is something special about Eliza. She and Sofia ate peaches last summer, and there’s just something peaceful about both of them. Creatures from God, with life lessons for us.
Let’s not forget the promise of tomorrow…
Skipping through social media, as best as I could this morning, waiting for the ads to load so I could scroll, I stumbled across the word “emoji,” and have thought about it some. As I scroll, I hit these little icons of like, love, thankful, wow. I rarely do any of the others, I just keep scrolling. Sometimes I remember to delete the ads I’ve seen way too much, for fear of saying something spiteful, we shouldn’t dwell in a negative world.
Then my break comes. Gracie, the black lab. She gets up in the morning, and while I am hovering over the laptop and a cuppa joe, she wants her hugs. “You are the best puppy ever!” I state, and she shudders and chatters her teeth, her happy sign. I wish I had an emoji for that. Wait. No I don’t. She is alive and affectionate. We step outside, where her “babies” wait for her (a stuffed bone, and a stuffed skunk, she takes her pick). The morning birds announce the morning, despite the dark rain clouds that keep the sun from shining.
And the birds, we keep the bird feeders full, despite instruction that they need to now find food on their own. We are enjoying them way too much. We even saw Baltimore orioles the other day!
We found her crying in the box of sawdust. The stray kitten that wandered from mama’s nest, somewhere in that haymow. She cried and cried. Barn kittens, we leave them for mama to find. (She did find her!)
All signs of life, a full life, and in the circle of life. Life in signs: the apple blossoms, the dogwood trees, the daffodils and tulips as they awaken, and now, the lilacs. (As soon as the sweet honeysuckle blooms, I am reminded that heaven exists.)
Stop and listen. Just for a moment. The world goes on. It’s a better place.
Some of us go to the lunchroom to dine. I go to the pond. I love to see what the leaping frogs are up to. They hear me coming. Listen and hear the last one “chirrip!” The scene is never boring, and it brings me back to realizing what is important.