A storm blew through last night, and it left fallen branches and leaves in its wake. When I was refreshing the pigs’ water (the “pond” above is their water bowl), I was struck by the image created by the multicolored leaves that had been swept into the water: it so clearly was, to me, a harbinger of Autumn.
Continue reading “Haiku: Fall Reflections”
I’ve been trying for some time now to photograph the Monarchs that flit about the pastures. They always seem to foil my hasty photographic attempts by flying off as soon as I almost have the shot lined up on my phone – and they won’t let me get very close, adding challenge to an already difficult endeavor. Today, though, this one let me get close enough for this photo. Maybe it was under the spell of the red clover nectar it was sampling…but regardless of the reason, I seized the opportunity, gladly. It’s butterfly season here: all sizes, shapes, and colors mingle in the pastures. And each one is welcome.
I was walking by the patio at the back of our house and a stray stone (and something else) caught my eye. When I looked more closely, it became clear that a frog was looking back at me. It was the essence of stillness, as motionless as that rock. The frog didn’t move as I took photos, and was still in the same spot when I left.
Continue reading “Haiku: The Stillness Of Frog”
The big sunflowers are in the homestretch, and looking a bit peaked. Soon, there will be mature seeds in those heads – seeds capable of becoming a whole new field of sunflowers. Though I admittedly anthropomorphized in verse, viewing those heavy heads created a definite feel – perhaps even an understanding – that they knew their time was ending soon, but willingly sacrificed themselves to live on in their seeds. I’m sad, however, to see their cheery beauty fade.
Thank you, volunteer sunflowers, for gracing our pasture with your shining faces. You will live on.
Interested in learning more about the stages of sunflower development? Check out this brochure from NDSU Extension.
Disclosure: this pre-dawn scene is from Monday. The moon is now a waxing crescent, of course…and the new moon has come and gone.
I thought the shadowy illumination of the”dark” part of the moon was particularly interesting: it’s there, but only suggested – like many things at this time of the day.
About a half hour before sunrise technically occurs, morning chores begin. In this pre-dawn period, it’s dark, still, and very different from the way the farm feels when it’s light out. Eyes, used to interior lighting, need to adjust to the darkness and sometimes there’s a bit of stumbling around while trying to get bearings.
It’s a special time: wild birds begin stirring, young roosters start to crow, and the landscape is tantalizingly amorphous and mysterious. Sharp edges are softened, noises muted. And as dawn approaches – the glorious, changing colors in the sky, the wondrous event that’s unfolding – it feels like being front-row at a much-anticipated concert…and the star is about to enter the stage. 🌞