“I am here because a winter bee hummed a summer tune and a frond of spleenwort winked at me.”
Thank you David, a happy new year to you and yours. What a gorgeous piece you have gifted me this morning here in Vermont, a world away from yours.
Sometimes it is just the welcoming arms of leafy branches that surround and reach out lovingly. All the little things that bring us to our place on this short beautifully human path. We should all be so blessed to find our little patch of earth in time to spend a life there. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had the innate ability of winged migration bringing us to where we are supposed to be. Where my heart will sing me into the next day.
Hi Lor. You’ve set me thinking again. As you always do. About the winter birds who have come south and the summer birds after coming north. And the strange meetings they might have when for a day or two they overlap ...
That is an interesting thought. Now that you have brought it to life, I am forming visions in my head. Maybe in ‘bird language’ the one with the loudest song , Raven maybe? sings out; BIRD PARTY all are welcome those arriving and those departing!
Strangely, just last week at a chilling 4 degrees, I saw a pair of Eastern Bluebirds singing in the leafless thicket, stunning against the snowy branches. They should have been on their way to warmer climates. I can only guess , and hope, they were coming from places further north and just passing through.
Sheer magic in every word. Lucky house to have its right person living there. One who notices and sometimes or often the noticing is enough. We don’t have to record it. We just have to be there in that moment and see or feel the magic. Thank you .
I love the way you share your connection with the living world David. Your writing helps me to connect more deeply with the earth and all of the lovely beings we share her with. I think your writing is unique and extraordinary. Star struck robin works for me. My partner calls it chubby bird! I don’t really have a name for it. It was meant to be a raven originally.
I will not bore you with my own tales of honey bees in winter, nor how the ivy on both barn and house sings as I pass, nor even that my husband has sat and watched his own secret still peering into that first drop from its copper worm for answers... but, I cannot leave without speaking of "hares jinking and twisting" and how my heart follows where the eye cannot nor how I have marvelled at first light spying (for it is surely that) on a badger attending necessary ablutions before sleep calls, as it does at that hour.
"...he listened intently only to the itch up in his armpit, his back foot waiting in ambush, sprung in an ecstasy of scratch." If words ever painted that memory, these were it dear David!
Bless you for the reminder! And, of course, blessings for new days!
Oh heavens, Susie. You have to wonder sometimes if we weren't twins separated by some administrative error shortly after birth :-) I hope your 'few and far simpler plans' fruit abundantly and that May is with you before you know it.
Thanks, Lisa, for taking the time to read and reply. Frosty here this morning but the spleenwort is still swaying gently to a tune nobody else can quite hear :-)
Thank you, David, for writing about what I'm now thinking of as the illusion of agency and the conspiracy of choice. It's wild to consider how we are each threaded into and wired for a host of prompts and responses that lead to living a particular life.
Hi Angela. Thanks for looking through the drops coming out of my still - for a whole year now :-) 'The conspiracy of choice' - coo. You've got a mighty theme there.
Such a beautiful read to awaken to. The ivy bee singing side of your home has a twin in the high deserts of southern Utah on the Grandstaircase Escalante National Monument which is where my bee singing and sparrow nesting house wall sits facing the northern light. Your writing evoked such joy in me this morning. Thank you
“I am here because a winter bee hummed a summer tune and a frond of spleenwort winked at me.”
Thank you David, a happy new year to you and yours. What a gorgeous piece you have gifted me this morning here in Vermont, a world away from yours.
Sometimes it is just the welcoming arms of leafy branches that surround and reach out lovingly. All the little things that bring us to our place on this short beautifully human path. We should all be so blessed to find our little patch of earth in time to spend a life there. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had the innate ability of winged migration bringing us to where we are supposed to be. Where my heart will sing me into the next day.
Hi Lor. You’ve set me thinking again. As you always do. About the winter birds who have come south and the summer birds after coming north. And the strange meetings they might have when for a day or two they overlap ...
That is an interesting thought. Now that you have brought it to life, I am forming visions in my head. Maybe in ‘bird language’ the one with the loudest song , Raven maybe? sings out; BIRD PARTY all are welcome those arriving and those departing!
Strangely, just last week at a chilling 4 degrees, I saw a pair of Eastern Bluebirds singing in the leafless thicket, stunning against the snowy branches. They should have been on their way to warmer climates. I can only guess , and hope, they were coming from places further north and just passing through.
In my own drop of reflection, I might willingly surrender all free will to a Maidenhair Spleenwort. Thanks, David.
Hi Bryan. Hope the year turned well for you and Odin. Looking forward to the jumping spider :-)
Sheer magic in every word. Lucky house to have its right person living there. One who notices and sometimes or often the noticing is enough. We don’t have to record it. We just have to be there in that moment and see or feel the magic. Thank you .
Hi Ambermoggie, there you are still, with your lovely nom de plume. Noticing :-)
I love the way you share your connection with the living world David. Your writing helps me to connect more deeply with the earth and all of the lovely beings we share her with. I think your writing is unique and extraordinary. Star struck robin works for me. My partner calls it chubby bird! I don’t really have a name for it. It was meant to be a raven originally.
What an enchanting piece to wake up to this morning, David! It is so much more magical as you speak it! Thank you!
Hi Patricia. Hope the year turned well for you. Thanks for dipping in still, after a whole year. So good to see friendly names popping back up :-)
Happy New Year, David!
Do we always need to know why? Sometimes it's lovely to just feel something is right 🙂
Hi Lynn, hope the year turned well up in the north. Very wise, yes. Best sometimes to roll with the flow of the stream :-)
I will not bore you with my own tales of honey bees in winter, nor how the ivy on both barn and house sings as I pass, nor even that my husband has sat and watched his own secret still peering into that first drop from its copper worm for answers... but, I cannot leave without speaking of "hares jinking and twisting" and how my heart follows where the eye cannot nor how I have marvelled at first light spying (for it is surely that) on a badger attending necessary ablutions before sleep calls, as it does at that hour.
"...he listened intently only to the itch up in his armpit, his back foot waiting in ambush, sprung in an ecstasy of scratch." If words ever painted that memory, these were it dear David!
Bless you for the reminder! And, of course, blessings for new days!
Oh heavens, Susie. You have to wonder sometimes if we weren't twins separated by some administrative error shortly after birth :-) I hope your 'few and far simpler plans' fruit abundantly and that May is with you before you know it.
A beautiful blessing of bees . . . ✨💛
Hi Michelle. Isn't it just the most wonderful thing, being with them as they forage and ignore us :-)
Yes! Benevolent agents of wellbeing, tending to the world while they tend to their own collective lives—gracing your home with their lively presence.
A delicious distillation, indeed. What a perfect start to a year of navigating uncertainty. Thank you, as always.
Thank you again, Kimberley, for standing still for a while to peer through the droplets :-)
Lovely flow of words and feelings. 💚💙
Hi Hele. That's kind of you.
Thank you, David, for bringing this space life in your prose. Welcome this morning!
Thanks, Lisa, for taking the time to read and reply. Frosty here this morning but the spleenwort is still swaying gently to a tune nobody else can quite hear :-)
Thank you, David, for writing about what I'm now thinking of as the illusion of agency and the conspiracy of choice. It's wild to consider how we are each threaded into and wired for a host of prompts and responses that lead to living a particular life.
Hi Angela. Thanks for looking through the drops coming out of my still - for a whole year now :-) 'The conspiracy of choice' - coo. You've got a mighty theme there.
Thank you for this ambling meditation of place, choices and connections. I felt part of this piece.
Thanks for coming along as I meandered to where I was going :-)
Meandering with such eloquence is magnificent. My heart loved reading such stunning thoughts.
delightfully meandering..
i think i often thought like this when i was 12 & i woke up on the farm as i recall
(always wanted to write / deploy the pronoun ‘i’ five times in one sentence 🦎🏴☠️🍁
Thanks, Thomas. Meandering indeed. Hopefully more like a slow river than an old fool stumbling home late at night - but one never knows :-)
Thank you truly for this enchanting meditation so beautifully read.
Thanks for taking the time to listen and for the kindness of replying :-)
Such a beautiful read to awaken to. The ivy bee singing side of your home has a twin in the high deserts of southern Utah on the Grandstaircase Escalante National Monument which is where my bee singing and sparrow nesting house wall sits facing the northern light. Your writing evoked such joy in me this morning. Thank you
Oh my, Lisa, there's a longing image you conjure up in barely a handful of words :-) This is a north-facing wall too. A whole genre in itself.