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Tag Archives: photography

Merry Christmas

I wrote this poem several years ago about the magic provided by the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) and Christmas. What message was in those celestial colours and sounds? As a child, I thought the sky talked to me and told me a creation story.

I grew up in Northern Alberta and Christmas was a special time. I recall cold winter nights. I mean they were cold–almost minus 40 at night. Our windows upstairs were almost completely frosted over. On moonlit nights, the light kept me awake or that is what I told others.

During Advent, my mom and older brothers walked across the street for evening Mass. The younger ones, including me, went to bed. I did not fall asleep right away and would watch out the window for them to come home. I thought no one saw me, but my Mom would come up and tell me to go to bed.

At that time of year, I recall is the Northern Lights and how you could hear them as well as see them light up the sky as they danced across the sky. We don’t see them very often in Edmonton with the urban light.

When we spend time at the farm at Christmas, we hear and see them again. On cold nights we hear the train (about a mile away) and it sounds like it is coming through the house.

Small children–

Breathlessly awaiting,

Peering through frosted window

Soaking it in.

Heavens rippling–

Lights undulating;

A celebratory fury

An indisputable guide.

This old house speaks;

Nature answers–

Heavens crackle

Sweet symphonic sounds shimmering.

Earth’s floor–

Blanketed in white

Celestial colours speaking

Capturing young senses.

A vivid winter scene,

A sensual, sensory palette,

Reminding us–

Christ’s Mass is here.

pic_wonder_northern_lights_lg

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Wildness

via Wildness

Michele‘s post reminded me of poems by two of my favourite poets.

Environmentalists refer to Wendell Berry and Mary Oliver‘s poems. An educated guess is that Henry David Thoreau, who Michele quotes, informed their writing.

Wendell Berry wrote in moments of despair he “comes into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought.”

Mary Oliver ends Summer Day with the following question: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do/ with your one wild and precious life?” Paradoxically, the question is an answer to her eloquent questions about who created nature.

Nature has a way of being and providing us with lessons for life. It is in meditative moments, when we just are, we grow to understand what that can mean. We grow and value what is essential not to us, but to those who come after us.

“We do not inherit the world from our ancestors, but borrow it from our children.”

Fairmont Hot Springs

When we visited Fairmont Hot Springs, I walked each morning and we went below the hot springs one evening for a short hike. On the walks and hikes, I took pictures.

On Sunday, we went to church. As we came out, this buck posed for pictures. He was in the shade so I cropped the picture and, as a result, it is a bit blurry.

I walked each morning and afternoon. This doe crossed the road about the time the sun was coming up each morning. She kept an eye on me, just to make sure.

Just outside Fairmont is Columbia Lake, which is the head waters of the Columbia River. The lake appears to have a mist over it most of the time.

When I walked in the morning, I took this picture as it was becoming daylight. The mist was much heavier at this time of the day than it was during the day.

Several evenings we went to the hot springs. On one of the evenings, we walked below the springs and found a path to a small creek. The moon was just rising from behind the mountains.

A small water fall flows into the creek. The volume increases when they release water from the swimming pool to clean it. I took the picture without any flash. I don’t know if it is the rocks, the time of day, or some other reason that allowed the picture to appear so well-lit.

Mountains and Water

I was on the road today, driving through part of Alberta I do not spend much time. I drove to Fairmont Hot Springs, which is in British Columbia. To get there, we came via Banff National Park. The normal route west usually takes me through south of Banff and Jasper National Park.

It was a beautiful day and two mountains stood out against the sky with clouds in behind them. I am not sure of their names, because of a lack of knowledge of the area. It was in the Mount Norquay area, but I thought Norquay was further to the north.

This might be Mount Norquay. It seemed to be the mountain that stood out and was the focus of the pullouts, but I don’t know the area well enough to be certain.

These palisades are just off to the side of the mountain above.

This is just above Numa Falls in Kootenay National Park in British Columbia. The mountain parks on the British Columbia side are not as well-developed as the ones on the Alberta side. I use the word developed in a relative way, as none of the parks have significant commercial development. We were not able to get any closer to the falls as the bridge is out and the gorge has no direct access.

Below, is a video of the falls from YouTube. I don’t see a bridge in the video, but the gorge is inaccessible.

 

To Read a Poem…To Write a Poem

This poem rattled around in my mind and body for the last few days. I did not write it out in rough form, so this is it.

To read a poem;

That is to breath in the world,

Meditating on that world

(Re)membering a fleeting moment–

A moment my whole body experienced;

The smell of pine forest

The distant white-topped mountain

Rocks disturbing a river’s flows

The touch of a gentle breeze,

Cooling a sun-burnt face.

To write a poem;

Breathing out,

A lived-experience,

Giving words to a fleeting moment–

Flowers gesturing towards mountains,

Trees caressed by mountain wind,

Nature’s fragrances arise from the valley

A silence encroaching upon my mediation.

 

Searching For Home

Today, is a cold and miserable day. It actually began yesterday, which is ironic. It was the first day after summer solstice. Summer does not feel like it is here. It has been a bumpy spring with warm and cooler days mixed together.

It has been a few days since I wrote a poem, so I wrote based on today’s non-seasonal weather. It is like the weather is looking for a home and cannot figure out where it is.

Summer fights to arrive,

A day after the solstice,

Winds feel glacial,

Marching coldly down upon us.

The wind wails her sad song,

A lost banshee,

Keening as she searches,

Not feeling at home in early summer.

Although this picture is a few weeks old, the day it was taken it was cold, windy, and rainy. It feels much like that again. The steel-grey skies in the background are like what we have today.

 

 

The Real Work

I was laid up for the last few days. I have allergies and this time of the year is always a challenge. I think I picked up a bug to give me a double-whammy. I slept a good part of Friday and Saturday and, on Sunday, was upright for most of the day.

I am not sure if I will post later. While sitting upright and not doing much else on Sunday, this Wendell Berry poem kept poking at me.

Living is paradoxical. Parker Palmer described how this creates tension in living. Just as we think everything is as it should be, something pokes at us and unsettles us, calling on us to begin our real work and commencing the real journey. Being mindful and attentive remind us to be still and look below the surface of what is happening.

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

This is Athabasca Falls. The river upstream is quite wide and as it comes around the corner suddenly narrows. In Wendell Berry’s poem, it is impeded and creates a great force that carves out solid granite.

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