Tag Archives: nature

Where the One Eyed Man is King

Just read a snippet about the expression “where the one-eyed man is king” which seems relevant for the times.  This album came to mind.  It’s lovely, especially when pondering things or making art…..

Yesterday was the complex holiday of Thanks-Giving – complex due to the whitewashed narratives of our childhoods (read Pilgrims and Indians and all of that).  Add the further complexities of this strange year to the mix – folks home eating alone or with not enough to eat, or opting out of gatherings altogether, or choosing to have gatherings anyway, regardless.  It’s just complex no matter how we slice it.  Thankfully my family had had our larger scale get-together back in October before things got out of hand with the virus and we all kept ourselves to ourselves this holiday with a zoom conversation late morning over coffee (and maybe a bit o’ Bailey’s too).

It was good to see everyone though I can sense the weariness in all of us.

To be honest, the quietude of the day was just fine by me really.  I’m often griping this time of year that I’d rather be hibernating than socializing and this year is our chance.  Our meal was thoughtful and well made, most things from scratch.  Since we weren’t cooking for a crowd, we could take time and care in a different way.  It was really quite lovely actually.

As the evening wore on, we kept in touch with the kids, providing back up advice to them and their households as they navigated their first Thanksgiving away from the nest.  It was bitter sweet.  They seem to have a new appreciation for everything that goes into a well-crafted holiday meal.

It wasn’t just blood-family touching base throughout the day either, but friend-family too.  Heart-family.  A text from a dear one in California with an old Irish saying:

“Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine” 

which basically means ‘we live in the shelter of one another’, or more specifically translated, “we live in each other’s shadows”.  Protecting one another, in need of one another’s company and presence.  I could not agree more.   And then, a  sweet text from Ireland with video of the kids wishing their American friends a happy Thanksgiving.  My Taos based adopted family sent along their wishes as well.  We traded texted views of home-based natural life, as we often do through out the year.  Their mountain views to our hollers.  A heart-felt exchange of worlds colliding.  I am so grateful for all of it.

Eventually, we finished the pie and the washing-up over a Tune Supply concert that once again reminded me of the thing I will jump head-first most into once this is all over – music.  I am deeply missing that camaraderie.

For now, solo practicing and babbling brooks must suffice.

Today, as is our tradition, we avoided any of the “Black Friday” madness (not even sure if that is on this year?) and took to the woods.  Only the two of us, and currently dog-less*, it was quiet but beautiful.  We took our time to capture photos, study mosses and mushrooms and simply enjoy the splendor of a lovely day.

*Charlie doesn’t come on longer hikes, which renders us dog-less when in the woods.  

Muted autumn colors and horizons, Ohio style.
In which we all tuck in under a blanket for the season.

Shroomy faerie-land treasures thanks to recent rains and mild weather.

Like an other-worldly jewel.

The view up the holler.
Bogard, ‘not throwin’ away his shot.’

Though not a scientist, I have a soft spot for the mosses. I like their approach to time and reproduction, among other things.

It was wonderful to get out into the countryside today.  I’ve had our local hollers on my mind lately.  This time of year I often think of my grandparents and all of our old holidays up with them in Middletown, just north of here.  Middletown is a bit of a curiosity lately with the Hillbilly Elegy movie hitting the streams.  I loathed the book when it launched and will likely choose not to view the movie (much as I admire the work of those involved in this project).  I find I get my hackles up over the writing of JD Vance and would rather folks be reading Elizabeth Catte’s What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia if they are curious about this great swath of the country.  I suppose I don’t appreciate the one-faceted view of folks in general and more specifically, those facing the challenges of poverty.  There is so much more to Appalachia than meets the eye.  Much like most of the rest of humanity.

The tide seems to be finally turning on the current president, and I am counting the days until we are back on an even keel with a leader who seems to even want the job.  But I know our work as a country is only just beginning.  As we drive around to the quiet wild places here in our own back yard, we are confronted with our political opposites.  How do we get folks from such opposite ends of the political spectrum to see the light in one another?

We are all lit from within, like jewels in the autumnal countryside

Seamus Heaney wrote a poem called Whatever You Say, Say Nothingwhich is exactly what we do here a good bit of the time.  Perhaps that’s part of what got us to where we are today, so divided and deconstructed.

Perhaps we should all just go for a hike together when this virus is all said and done, to go out looking for spectacular mushrooms and mosses and figure things out in a more thoughtful way.

Perhaps.

 

 

 

Bog Silence

Did you know, my middle name is Heather?

Today my Kerry companions and I head north on a little road trip to Ennis in Co. Clare, endlessly chasing the music.  There is a gig to attend by a friend who makes this music professionally and a session in the works up the road after the concert.  And so, this day will be a traveling day.

I know I am not painting “enough” in recent days but writing feels like the art this week.  Gathering imagery and words.  Following the threads of inspiration.  This is “enough”.  Whatever that means.

As I left this space in my last post, I was off to don wellies and wander up the road with my hosts here to visit a bit of bog land that has been a part of their family and culture for generations.   The bog road goes well off the Ballybunion road and so traffic, if any, is light, and consists of other walkers and wanderers seeking a bit of quiet time in Nature.

We dodge raindrops and keep an eye on the horizon for rainbows.  Of course there are rainbows.

The bog is quiet with only the sound of the breeze, the rain falling, bird song and a an occasional gentle mooing of a far off cow.

Bogs are natural wonderlands, filled with all kinds of flora and fauna for those with eyes to see.  Ferns and heather, native grasses and mosses.  It is a lovely place to behold.

The silence of the bog is infectious and exactly what I have been craving.  I find it interesting that this segment of Brain Pickings is about silence and it comes across my digital path this morning as I build a little blog post before hitting the winding road to Clare.

Turf is cut from the bog and stacked to dry for use. This is called “footing the turf” and the structures are like sculptures.

This bog is a working bog and local folks have utilized the turf to heat their homes and light their hearths for years.  This is all now up for discussion nowadays as bog turf holds a great deal of carbon.  My companions are gentle stewards of this patch of bog as well as of the land which holds their cottage and grows much of their food.  They know this place well and appreciate its limitations.   I for one hope that a least a bit of turf can be burned here and there in future as the smell is divine.

After the bog walk, we return to the cottage for a cup of tea and a game of fetch with Pancake, a lovely pup indeed.

I am treated to a bite to eat and evening descends upon us.  Tea turns to wine, conversation turns to tunes, just myself and Michael – flute and accordion – and I hear slides and marches which are new to my ears.  They are local to this place and I wish for them to be collected and played back home, to celebrate this beautiful quiet patch of Kerry.  Mike and I talk about how the old tunes are really the best tunes.  Flash and musical prowess are lovely to behold, but there is something so rich and lovely about a few solid tunes in the kitchen with a local farmer.  I am blessed beyond belief.

Later I return home, my head fairly swimming with music (*finally!*) and I am reminded of the date.  It is the anniversary of the death of one of my best and most influential friends of this life time – Mia.  If she could see where life has taken me, she would beam, I am sure.  When she was ever so ill, I had just begun on the whistle – awkward and shy about it.  But she insisted I play what I knew for her and so I did.  She laughed and clapped in delight and told me never to stop playing.  I haven’t.  I miss Mia on a regular basis and think that perhaps the magic of this special day, from pre-dawn beach time, to a bog-walk under a watery sun and into the evening with new tunes and dear friends may have just been a blessing from the beyond.  I am deeply grateful.

 

Flights of fancy

Luna

I love moths.  Not so much the ones who like to eat up our woolens when we aren’t looking, but rather the more showy ones.

A number of years ago I embroidered the luna moth above.  She remains still one of my favorites.  Although the model for the above moth hailed from West Virginia, all sorts of varieties of marvelous moths can be found in this Ohio River Valley, including the Luna, as we are situated along the very edges of Appalachia where loads of wonderful creatures reside.

I am excited for summer’s warmth to come to us (though not our late-summer heatwaves!) and along with it, perhaps a few more interesting moths to observe in the local woods.  The One-Eyed Sphinx Moth, though not tremendously common, might be found on occasion in our Ohio woods.  Today, however, I found one in my thread basket….

sphinx begins

Well, really she came from my mind’s eye, with the help of a guide book and some source photos, with the eventual plan of being worn as a talisman.  Much like the recent mushrooms growing in the same said basket!

It’s still quite chilly out of doors, so it is no surprise I found her curled up amidst the chaos of my embroidery.

threaded chaos

And as I was home today awaiting some puppy meds for our Iris, I decided to follow this moth’s lead, and see where she might lead me. sphinx midway

Eventually she came together into a tiny, mothlike facsimile with which I am fairly pleased.

sphinx

The art of embroidery is a slow and steady conjuring, consisting of the magical ingredients of time, patience, a bit of thread, and perhaps, a dash or two of binge-able Netflix.

one eyed sphinx

As this work is so tiny, it will be installed into a wearable frame, looking much like a little embroidery hoop.  I shall post it on my instagram feed when it is ready.  Should this lovely moth strike your fancy, let me know.  I’d love her to go to a wonderful home…..

ps… here is the necklace this little sphinx found herself into.  I think it turned out nicely!

IMG_3463