Kathy and I stopped as we passed through Brocket Alberta which is between Fort Macleod and Pincher Creek on the way to Spokane. I took these pictures with the camera on my PDA. Brocket is the home to the Pikani First Nation or the Peigan Nation.
Mountains,sky, clouds
A backdrop
Winged machines
March across the prairie
Product of human hand
Point us towards
A river
Seemingly without pattern, yet poetic
Finding its way, as planned
By unseen hands
Of A Creator.
We are traveling to Spokane this weekend so I can continue the doctoral journey. We go through Fernie British Columbia which is a small town in the mountains.
These were not my best pictures, but they resonated with me on another level.
Touch the evening sky
Two shades of grey become one
Slowly day joins night.
the last gold flecks dance
bidding farewell to daylight
night gently arrives.
While traveling through the Crowsnest Pass. we took a picture of this sign and wondered what was for sale. We were left wondering where the river front was? We have driven by this sign many times and it has never been on dry land. In fact, it has been submerged so only the first two lines were in view: “For Sale 80 Acres.”
I wonder how the sale is going?
Just a little to the east of the sign we noticed two horses grazing, sort of grazing. They seemed OK with the situation.
Enjoy!
I found these picture of a small lake in the Crowsnest Pass when I was looking at the pictures I posted at A Time to Listen. Nature is a spectacular and paradoxical part of creation and I hope this is revealed in the following.
Green, aqua, granite
Nature draws from her palette
Drawing me to her.
Water cascading
Suddenly appears out of rock
Disappears again.
Calmness and chaos
Nature speaks in paradox
Harmony emerges.
Kathy and I travel. We spend time during the summer touring Alberta, British Columbia, Saskatchewan, and adjoining American states. This summer we are revisiting Waterton Lakes National Park as part of my rehab. We travel through this area regularly and it brings back great memories.
On one trip, we stopped at a provincial park just above Lundbreck Falls. Recently, I went through pictures of the Crowsnest River downstream and it reminded of what I notice and don’t notice in life. Wendell Berry wrote a beautiful piece: The Impeded Stream is the One that Sings. I realized I heard the river before I saw it. I recalled the life around the river: cottonwood fluff flying, flowering wild rose, insects pollinating, and a musky smell perhaps of a bear recently by. The river is a living instrument sharing a song to others forming a web of life.
I read Wendell Berry’s words while reliving the picture and was inspired to write a Haiku.
Observe life’s current
Pausing, listening, caring
Present with my self.
Each year, we learn about Haiku in our classroom. I was fortunate this year. We began the process during the fall when the Harvest Moon was in full glory. Driving to work in the morning, the Moon would be sitting above the horizon or in the evening it appeared as a rich, orange orb almost asking me to reach and touch it. I also drove through the Rockies just before the school year began and Mount Robson was in full majesty with a tiny wisp of cloud.
It had been several years since I heard a student say, “Poetry is stupid. My dad says it is a waste of time” or words to that effect. This year I heard it. I even had one parent tell me it was a waste of time. I calmly pointed out writing out poetry, in general, is the practice of choosing the right word and Haiku takes this one step further, at least I think it does. What I left unsaid, but is worthy of saying, poetry is always present, is part of being mindful, and being in the world.
Those mornings and evenings I observed the moon I found words pressing forward and asked to be shared. I wrote these on the whiteboard as an exercise of being mindful and present.
Majestically,
Touching endless sky above
Roots firmly grounded.
Greetings and adieu
Sun and Moon sharing the sky
Guides my morning drive.
Enjoy Saturday.
I began blogging in earnest in February, but it really began to take off in April. Today was a milestone with my 200th follower. With that, comes the reverse. I follow. There is a tremendous digital gathering and we are only just beginning to understand its impact.
200,
it isn’t 300,
the movie
or followers.
Thank you
for finding your way to this blog.
On a digital palette
I create
vent
share
reveal
learn
present
about the complex nuances of my life in this world.
My gratitude expressed two ways–
following others
who blaze trails
as pioneers
as companions.
Thank you
grateful
you share
your venture along
on this road less traveled
a humbling
transforming
uplifting space.
I am grateful, indebted.
Thank you
is the second way to express gratitude to 200 + 1 now.
Here is a sampler of blogs I follow. Please visit and add to their following. They inspire, teach, and share each day I prepare to write. I ma sure you will enjoy all or some of the following. Check out my blog roll for others.
Spokane Favs is a colleague of mine at Gonzaga University in Spokane WA.
Mikibong inspires with diverse and great photography
Marie Wetmore is a life coach par excellent
Elke Teaches is an Australian teacher to be and mother
Words/Love is a fantastic and creative writer
Zellie M Quinn is a writer and reflector of life
Edilio Ciclostile is a whimsical artist who wants you help him grow down
Enough of the Cat Talk is a teacher from New York who shares in many ways
Meanwhile Melody Muses is an exceptional writer of great poetry who honours nature and teaches.
Mike’s Look at Life is through poetry and photography of things we normally ignore but are there all the time
Brian Gaynor Photography provides inspiring pictures of and in nature
Rod Posse is a photographer of unusual but interesting things
RC Gale is a writer and creator of space for other writers.
That Dude Eddie is a writer of poetry and prose spreading love and peace.
Simon Marsh is an Anglican Priest in England who shares a passion for the writings of Parker Palmer and Thomas Merton
Elizabeth Rambles from a banana boat up the Clyde
Nonoy Manga is an artist and animator with a little writing thrown in on the side.
Seaman Mom is a mother from Romania who works on a cruise ship.
Colour the Day is an artist who finds beauty in many places and ways.
The Jog is by an Anglican minister in England.
Eleven 11 has gone quiet the last few days, but his is a fun blog to read.
In a world full of busyness and artificial flavouring for the day, this is a solid message of what brings peace to each of our lives. Slow down, you move to0 fast. Sounds like a song I heard somewhere.
They are really my socks. They do not fit inside of any shoes or boots I own, so, technically, they might not qualify as socks, but as slippers. On cold winter mornings, I wear them around the house. What makes them interesting? I am glad you asked.
These were Christmas gifts. Kathy’s grandmother made them for us. We always knew after the first person opened their gift from Grandma what we were each receiving that year. That part never changed. What made each year’s gift deserving of an ode, was the time and generosity sewn, crafted, or knitted into the gifts. We also wanted to know what package our gift came in that year.
Grandma was a thrifty, frugal woman, not cheap. She lived and raised children in cabins almost her entire adult life. Their isolated homestead was on the McLeod River south and west of Edson, Alberta. She worked a trap line into her 80’s with the help of children and grandchildren. She worked hard and had little in terms of material wealth, but she gave gifts made by hand and given from the heart. Part of her thrift was the packaging of each gift. I think, after several years, it became part of a game, too. She packed gifts in macaroni, spaghetti, and cereal boxes. Even the adults thrived on this part of the gift-giving. What was our gift packed in that year?
When I share Pablo Neruda’s Ode to My Socks with students, I tell this story. Children and adolescents need the figurative message made concrete. This poem is about moving life’s supposedly ordinary events to the extraordinary. Students often recount a gift given or received from the heart after my story. It moves the context of daily life forward from the ordinary, and makes it rich. Beauty is twice beauty, after all.
Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder’s hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.
Pablo Neruda
insignificant
countless gathering form one
majestic power
This is a winter picture of La Chute (waterfall in English) Montmorency just outside Quebec City. At the base of the falls, around the open water, fly fishermen will be out during the summer. What you see a the top is a walkway across the falls and there is a tram just to the right of this picture. The St. Lawrence River is only a few hundred metres from the base of the falls.
Here is a second picture of the falls. When Kathy and I were determined to see these falls. The pictures do not do them justice, but, as you can tell even in winter, they are spectacular. While driving across Le Pont Pierre-Laporte my fear of heights kicked in when I realized how far above the St. Lawrence we were. I needed to be in the right lane, but there was no way I was getting that close to the edge and it took creative driving on the far side of the bridge to get to the falls.
This is Athabasca Falls in Jasper National Park. You can see the Athabasca River in the background. Even in the park, it is a wide river at this point and it narrows quickly to shoot through the gorge. Kathy took this picture from the small wooden bridge that goes over the falls. You can just see the railing in the foreground. When you cross the bridge, you can walk up-stream along the river for several kilometres.
This is a slightly different view of the falls. The force of the water passing through the gorge has created a new stream bed. The water cut through solid granite. Below, you see one of the many mountains along Highway 93 between Jasper and Banff.
This is a view of one of the many mountains along Highway 93 between Banff and Jasper and is not far from Athabasca Falls.
This is the Columbia Icefield looking back towards the source of the glacier and mountains. This is at the headwaters of the Athabasca River.
This is the Columbia River in Oregon. Although it is a spectacular view, I wonder what price we pay for progress:? Under that water, lies a spectacular river with rapids and waterfalls. Also hidden from view is a way of life of people who settled along this magnificent river. What a loss!
This was a small waterfall along the Continental Divide in Yellowstone.
ivonprefontaine
Teacher as Transformer 