Trying to escape catatonia —
afraid to pick up speed and storm:
how wrath always rises with the wind,
fills the sail to send,
how it is all beyond the animal,
how it makes us tremble.
And you know what comes,
The leaves are falling fast now,
but it is all so far beyond us.
Cultivate faith in the sun
and how it counters the sadness
of seeds in the wind,
how it confounds what grows dark inside us.
sunny! windy! it is november and there are still singing bugs. tree sparrow. (winter resident returned) 10 pelicans. 2 herons. 1 egret. big flock of grebes. how sometimes naming is the only thing to hold to. naming, and solitary, slow movement. shovelers. sunlight vs. wind. tops of the indiangrass catching both. leaf smell. white crowned sparrow. orange sulphur. then two, dancing.
after so many years of trying to be understood, when do you stop?
another sulphur. fast in the wind on the high prairie. so little to see today, relatively, but still, the walking is the only thing that doesn’t feel wrong.
9 pelicans. shovelers. buffleheads! 1 heron. we set the clocks back this week, twice*. it’s hard to adjust to the gathering dark. it takes a minute to start a fire. and the world is a lot more than our petty measurement. savor the slow decline. nothing is ever in one place for long. now of the river.** red tailed hawk. sulphur. cardinals. white crowned sparrow. kingfisher chattering in loops around the pond and river. 5 mallards with 3 black ducks.
1st flock of sandhill cranes. troubled by troubling.
*This is surely a reference to the 2016 presidential election.
**A reference to Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
fieldnotes was written at the Marsh beginning Sept. 26, 2016 and ending near the same time in the following year, collected in memo books over the course of many rambling walks.
Beginning on Sept. 26, 2019, three years after the writing, fieldnotes will be published in its entirety, with posts appearing as the corresponding write-dates occur.
(at least to the best of my ability)