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Despite red beads of buds on branches,
the wind asserts itself,
battling the morning warming sun,
redwings naming their boundaries.
Scouting deeper,
we are constantly surprised,
at whitecaps on the Marsh
and again from higher ground,
its rough play.
We step back two —
suspended energy that fills the between.
Does the refusal to make a beginning make unending?
Can you feel it now?
3.7.17
(65/44)
swallows over the water, two. killdeer. windy! from the northwest, so chilly. after last night’s storms out of the south. long thing black segmented caterpillar. hear a song sparrow. mourning dove. sandhill crane pair has maybe returned? circling and calling. robins. 3 goldfinches, looking a bit more golden. chickadees. canada geese. wind on the water. turkey vulture. chickadees. redbellied woodpecker. tree sparrows, i think. river is quiet today. no ducks. a pretty man who asks about birds. coopers hawk. merganser. 2 cormorants. blue-eyed boy.
3.9.17
(41/29)
keep this for yourself. the whole flock of robins and redwings and redwings and redwings. horned grebe. song sparrow. barest hint of greening on the trees. willows and undergrowth, mostly. 2 canada geese making a nest. cardinal treetop. singing. east wind, bit crisp. northern flicker. robins shifting into spring behavior. 2 mallards. pair of downy woodpeckers. bluejay. how we suppress too much and feel it longer than we ought. chickadees. cardinals. in the mixing bowl. nuthatch. trickle of water in the bottoms. smells like dirt. turkey vulture. coyote. redbellied woodpecker. lotta limbs down after yesterday’s big wind. redtailed hawk.
about fieldnotes
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)
looking for roots 