Posts

Poetry Sunday: Winter Trees by William Carlos Williams

Winter has finally arrived in southeast Texas. We're actually expected to have some below freezing temperatures over the next few days. And the wise trees that have dropped their leaves will stand sleeping through it all. Winter Trees by William Carlos Williams   All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among the long branches. Thus having prepared their buds against a sure winter the wise trees stand sleeping in the cold.

This week in birds - #618

Image
  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : This fantastically colored creature is the very aptly named Shining Sunbeam , also called the Copper-winged Hummingbird , a large, conspicuous hummingbird whose habitat includes both slopes of the Andes , from Colombia south through Ecuador and Peru. Its population is believed to be stable.  *~*~*~* In his last days in office, the current president is doing what he can to protect climate funding from the depredations of the incoming president. *~*~*~* The deadly Los Angeles wildfires  affect wildlife as well as people . Here are some  ways to help them . *~*~*~* "Guerrilla rewilding" is now a thing and is apparently responsible for the recent release of four lynx in the Scottish Highlands. All have now been safely recaptured . *~*~*~*                                     This little cutie is the Danish-Swedish farm d...

Poetry Sunday: The Tuft of Flowers by Robert Frost

Since I first became acquainted with Robert Frost's poetry in high school, I've often taken comfort in it over the years. Whenever the world seems particularly fractious, as it has recently, I turn again to many of his poems that I love. There are two of Frost's in particular that are meaningful for me - "Birches" and "The Tuft of Flowers." Today, "The Tuft of Flowers" seems especially appropriate - a reminder that we are all in this together whether we work together or apart. The Tuft of Flowers by Robert Frost I went to turn the grass once after one Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.   The dew was gone that made his blade so keen Before I came to view the levelled scene.   I looked for him behind an isle of trees; I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.   But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been,—alone,   ‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart, ‘Whether they work together or apart.’   But as I said...