Under The Leaning Tree

Blue herons preening on the river tree.
Common Mergansers perch on this tree.
Kingfisher, perched and preening.
Herons calling low in the dawn.
Crows dive bombing the air.
Falcons creating havoc.
Geese cruising the eddies.
Big orange spider was missing in action, and is once again.
Gulls gather on the incoming tide.
Mergies hunt in packs of teenagers.
Water ripples with wind, surges with current and wiggles with displacement.
Cormorants fly, float, land and dive.
Salmon jumps once.
Otter hunches, sprints, and dives in the green seaweed.
Geese move away from the oblivious otter.
Swan sleeps with one eye open.
Flowers begin their fall festival.
Geese fly low over the water, honking their arrival.
Leaves turn yellow, orange, red and brown.
Moths fly up, up, up.
Clouds are drawn into the shapes of scallops and waves.
Ocean bubbles up as the sand is filled over.
Gulls haunting calls echo all afternoon.
Eagle scares up thousands en route for East Sooke.
Bull kelp slithers and shakes on the tide.
Seal surfaces shining in the sun.

In the Shade of Big Trees

When I sit in the shade of a big tree, I listen. When I try to write this blog, I talk. As I listen I hear life. The life of birds, wind in the bush, leaves crisply falling or popping in the sun. Two minutes spent silent in the wild forest is a wondrous thing, and relatively hard to imagine or manage especially with other people. Time, quietly and alone spent under a tree, wild or in a park or a yard, is rare. But doesn't it sound great?

I imagine a really big big leaf maple in the summer, a strong tall Cottonwood in fall or a Karnakian Douglas fir on a wet winter day. I just listen. Sleep is okay, I'll hear in my dreams. And think.

I think of wondrous things in this quiet time.