I heard thunder off in the distance. It is grey out there. There are other colors. The trees themselves are are charcoal and
lichen. some dried orange leaves remain and in the middle of all is a green
cedar tree with a strong black trunk, and then another two cedars to the
left. The hills in the distance roll low
and black. The sky is matted down. It look like it might snow this morning rather than rain.
I’m glad the
hearings appear to be over. The Mrs. has
wanted to stream them live three days in a row now. It’s seductive, it certainly feels
historical, but no one needs to hear the entirety of Gordon Sumland answering
Congressman questions for eight hours.
Apparently, later, when he got on board a plane he had trouble stowing
his luggage and he was heard to say, “My whole day has been like this.” It’s good to have some quiet in the house and
to just look out and the somber morning.
I’m still trying
to make my way through what should be a quick read: “The Field Guide to the
Familiar, Learning to Observe the Natural World” by Gale Lawrence. It was written in 1984 and it reminds me of that
world of mine from thirty-four years ago.
There are one-thousand words or so about the Great Horned Owl. Another page about milkweed and wasps and a range
of other plants and animals here in the general north east of the country, that
we generally take for granted.
Ravens and crows
are different, you see. I suppose I
hadn’t known that. Crows have adapted
themselves to living with humans as opposed to ravens, which are larger are more
aloof. I wonder, as I read, have I ever
really seen a raven? And I think about
all the ancient Gaelic poetry I’d read, traipsing around Ireland, two years
after this Field Guide was written, reading about Conchobar and Cu Chulainn and the
lovely princess with snow white skin and “black, raven’s hair.” It appears over and over again in those pre-Christian tales the way
“rosey-fingered-dawn” repeats constantly in the Odyssey.
A rain has broken
outside. It’s too warm for snow.
Friday, 11/22/19
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