Cairn

Stacked within seconds.
Monument to rocks, stream, and
Lisa's stacking skills.
                         
~dkm 10/365

                            Photo Credit / Hannah Miller

Meditation in Vermont Woods

Summer mid-morning
Deep quiet, all natural
Bird, breeze, bee, bark, buzz

Friction and clatter
Mystery sound new to me
Thin branch against branch

~dkm 9/365

Time

Root-draped boulder

Once split by young sapling
Supports ancient tree
                               
~dkm 8/365

                           photo credits / Hannah Miller

8 / 365  in a self-challenge to write a haiku a day for a year in response to a single observation made during my daily outdoor meditation, a spiritual practice I call "long-sitting." This, to keep blogposts from usurping my  writing time. dkm

Hiking Moss Glen Falls Trail

Tree downed by beavers,
Path cut by and for themselves,
Dam across the stream.

Trees felled in minutes

Tooth and tail, the only tools
Engineers supreme

World benefactors
Clean water, flood prevention
Habitat for fish

~dkm 7/365

7 / 365  in a self-challenge to write a haiku a day for a year in response to a single observation made during my daily outdoor meditation, a spiritual practice I call "long-sitting." This, to keep blogposts from usurping my  writing time. dkm

Squeaky

Squeaky wheelbarrow.
Someone's working in the woods.
Black and white warbler.
~dkm

                                                      Photo credit, Hannah Miller

6 / 365  in a self-challenge to write a haiku a day for a year in response to a single observation made during my daily outdoor meditation, a spiritual practice I call "long-sitting." This, to keep blogposts from usurping my  writing time. dkm

Red Eye

Heard not seen today,

"Here I am," pause, "Where are you?"

Red Eyed Vireo.

Are you asking me?

No, I don't care where you are.

It's what I can sing. 

~dkm

5 / 365  in a self-challenge to write a haiku a day for a year in response to a single observation made during my daily outdoor meditation, a spiritual practice I call "long-sitting." This, to keep blogposts from usurping my  writing time. dkm

Greetings

While I write, he sings
Pleased pleased pleased pleased to meetcha!
Serenading whom?

He flies back and forth,
This chestnut sided warbler,
Between red maples.
~dkm 4/365

4 / 365  in a self-challenge to write a haiku a day for a year in response to a single observation made during my daily outdoor meditation, a spiritual practice I call "long-sitting." This, to keep blogposts from usurping my  writing time. dkm

Revising Chapter One

All day overhead
Repeating, ka-chee, ka-chee
Ovenbird warbler
~dkm 3/365

                          Photo Credit, Hannah Miller

Knitted

Tree sleeves by Hannah

Buttoned sweaters around trunks
Art of a knitter
~dkm 2/365

 

Astonishment

I knocked down a tree

Rotten but still vertical

Magnificent shock

~dkm 1/365

1/365 Starting a new personal challenge to write a haiku a day for a year in response to a single observation made during my daily outdoor meditation, a spiritual practice I call "long-sitting." This, to keep blogposts from usurping my writing time.

Music of Summer or Eye of Robin

Even in the heat—in the heavy humid stillness that makes your skin sticky with sweat and draws mosquitoes to your ankles, there is beauty to be found in the act of deep listening outdoors on a summer morning.

On a day like today, said beauty is not in one's comfort level, but in the orchestration of summer sounds that invite you to pour yourself an icy glass of garden mint tea, sit, breathe, and read a good piece of fiction.  Maybe you only get one chapter in before the mosquitoes drive you inside, but that's long enough to appreciate the sounds of a Georgia summer...

the drone and throb of cicada

the ceaseless chipping of a chipmunk in estrous

the murmur of eastern bluebird faithfully protecting his nest

the slow tyoo-tyoo-tyoo-tyoo of northern cardinal

the distant lazy coo-OO-cooo-cooo of mourning dove

And just now, the whinny of a male robin settling into the grass at my feet, curious enough about the unmoving creature on the swing to hop closer, stand taller, and check me out, eye to eye.  A moment to remember, the staring directly into the eye of a robin.

He must have decided I was little threat, for he returned to his worm search.

And I? I swore at the mosquitoes and left, but not without lamenting that it was too damn hot for sitting long outside in Georgia today.  ~dkm

                                                   Photo Credit, Hannah Miller

Housewren Puzzle

Can you spot Father Housewren in this photo? He's in plain sight, if you know where to look.


I've been looking for him and his nest since he started singing his heart out on June 3rd in the vicinity of the prickly holly bush in the photo. It's too dense to see into. He sings here all day every day but I've not been able to locate his exact spot.

From past nest watches in more visible places I know the housewren's relentless twittering begins just before his mate lays her eggs, continues through the approximate two weeks of incubation, two more weeks of feeding their hatched nestlings, then stops abruptly on the day the nestlings fledge, which I expect to be any day now.

The song of the male housewren is a remarkable thing to behold, considering his size, how hard he has to work to produce it, and its perpetual nature while he's protecting a nest. Some even consider it annoying for its non-stop repetition. One member of my morning coffee and yoga group who has appreciated the exuberance of his song has characterized the egg phase as, "Oh, joy, I'm going to be a father," the nestling phase as, "Oh how I love being a father," and today's frenetic tone as, "Oh thank goodness, they're leaving soon."  Any parent can identify.

This morning Mr. Housewren sang so loudly and so ceaselessly I was powerless but to stand long and peer into the bush toward the source of the sound. If one stands still enough and searches long enough, bingo.  Here's the same photo from above, blown up and cropped, in case you, like me, couldn't spot him at first. ~dkm