Autumn in Yellowstone Park

Autumn in Yellowstone Park
triple rainbow

Welcome to my house of sky

The sky is my roof in my favorite house--out and about in Nature--sun, snow, rain, warm days and cold. Everything about what is going on around me in fields and mountains and beside creeks is fascinating.

Here in my blog I will be sharing tidbits of what I am seeing - in my yard and on trips up trails and over into nearby Yellowstone National Park.

I hope you enjoy exploring with me.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

April. Phoenix. Desert Botanical Garden.
A new discovery. Hills like sleeping and curled up dragons in shades of dusky mauves and purples, sculpted by wind, scattered with sage greens of prickly pear and cordone or saguaro. Columns drilled with holes by woodpeckers, cactus that form "boots" inside where the woodpecker hollowed out space safe above the ground for his nest. Violet shadows. Golden showers of palo verde blossoms.
A quail threads his way through vegetation on the ground, top not bouncing on his head. Hummingbirds darting among hot pinks, oranges and deep reds of spring blooms. A hawk watches over the throngs of Sunday garden visitors from his aerie atop a curled, dusty dragon. Light, shade. Hot, cool. Butterflies, dragonflies. Somewhere a roadrunner. I seek the sun. Slide into shade beside a pool. Strange bird songs. I feel as though I am in a boneyard, a sculpture garden, a nest.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Today I walked the paths around the ponds at Cherry River fishing access and sanctuary. The snow beneath my feet was packed slush. Overhead clouds were colors of faded denim, dusky lavender,
and violet-gray. The sky, where visible was a washed-thin cobalt overhead and pale lemon
near the horizon.

I didn't hear any song of returning birds. Not even a robin.

The honey, tawny, blonde and russet grasses are mashed by snow. Here and there stragglers, stems at odd angles, leaves curled and wet, wipe the frosted surface. When the sun shines through cloud, their shadows are violet. The old snow still sparkles.

Off in the distance rags of snow litter the mountains and hills.

Canada geese and mallards feed in the ponds' open areas. With each day above freezing, stained ice gives way to open water.

I find solace in walking there. A place to enter Nature's world and leave the cacophony of news behind.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Storm Surge

I've just returned from a conference at Asilomar Conference Grounds in Monterey, CA with poet David Whyte. In this beautiful setting by the sea, poetry, song, and fierce Pacific storm all came together to create a space of wild beauty--inside and out.

When we learned that two men were swept out to sea by the storm driven waves that rose higher than normal onto the land, we all joined for a few moments of silence to honor them.

"Half a Shade Braver" was the title of this conference for the weekend. We were all asked to contemplate ways in which, in our daily lives, we could be just a little bit more brave than before.
It's not required of us that we be super heroes or even change dramatically.

What one act can I take or make today to believe more in myself and my power to help a world
crying for love and peace?

I can begin with a poem:

My poem is an offering
to the pearls of rain
on soft green needles.
The fragrance perfumes sea air.
A gentle face
into a fierce storm
where waves unleash
their fury on the sand
and sweep the unwary
into their embrace.

These waters--
salt and fresh--
become one
as I breathe
how they join together

While I cannot speak,
in this silence
a fire warms my body,
music my heart.

My voice is here,
in the pines crooked branches
sheltering the hummingbird,
in the raven's call,
and gulls curved wings.

Last night
the wind knocked at my door
Who called me?
This morning
I will listen.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Today, a sparkling January day in Bozeman, Montana, I began my author adventure on Facebook. New adventures await while my book "River Shadows: A Passage from Head to Heart" nears completion -- and will be out in the world in March.

Meanwhile a family of deer gathered beneath our bird feeders. Their hooves embroider trails in the snow. A northern flicker pecks at suet. Magpies gather the suet that falls to the ground. Hairy and downy woodpecker ratchet up the ash tree. Chickadees flit from pine to feeder and back.