The Quiet Business of the Countryside
May 12, 2016
“The real world, in my opinion, exists in the countryside, where Nature goes about her quiet business and brings greatest pleasure.”
— Fennel Hudson
I am drawn to the countryside. I love its “quiet business.” The pre-dawn hour is especially lovely. I enjoy pulling to the side of the road, turning off the car’s ignition, and sitting in the quiet, watching the world awaken.
“For the animal shall not be measured by man. . . . In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings, they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the spendour and travail of the earth.”
— Henry Beston, The Outermost House
I read this quote in a wonderful book about animal encounters, Wild Delicate Seconds: 29 Wildlife Encounters Black Bears to Bumble Bees by Charles Finn.
These 29 very short essays imitate the brevity of the actual encounters that Finn shares. His written descriptions are so vivid and alive and attentive, that they made me wonder which paints a better picture of the experience — words or photographs?
For example, here is what Finn says about bumble bees: “I sit watching the bees, their inner-tube bodies overinflated, their legs like kinked eyelashes hanging down. The white-noise of their wings soothe me . . .”
Or listen to this description of turtles: “They are toy tanks, frowning Buddhas on the boomed ends of logs, the original mobile home.”
Of the heron, Finn says: “It looks like a hunched stone, an oval of waiting.”
And: “The heron hunts with unswerving patience, its hula hoop eyes highlighter yellow, circular as hope. Its head is smooth, domed like the cockpit of a jet fighter, its long beak white on top, blue on the bottom, tapered like an immense sewing needle: the heron, nature’s idea of a spear-throwing machine.”
In these instances, I would vote for the power and poetry of the written word.
Walking the Color Wheel: Seattle’s Summer Purples
July 27, 2012
“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”
–Alice Walker
This concludes our walks along the color wheel. Hope you enjoyed the rambles!
A Chaos of Beauty
June 28, 2012
“What a chaos of beauty there is upon a June morning.”
— Louise Beebe Wilder, Colour in My Garden
And here are a few snapshots taken out of the chaos of color and beauty in Seattle right now:
Allium: Balls of Stars
May 28, 2010
Nature’s Fireworks
June 11, 2009
- Mountain Bluet
- Purple allium

Star-shaped flowers
These flowers look like exploding fireworks to me. And although the Mountain Bluet is a different flower from the Bluet in the following poem, it does share its name, so I offer it to you.
The Bluet
Of all the flowers, the bluet has
the sweetest name, two syllables
that form on the lips, then fall
with a tiny, raindrop splash
into a suddenly bluer morning.
I offer you mornings like that,
fragrant with tiny blue blossoms —
each with four petals, each with a star
at its heart. . . .
— Ted Kooser
Late Spring, Still Glorious!
May 31, 2009

Pink Peony

Orange Poppy

Purple Allium

Green stems of purple allium

Yellow Iris
The days are getting even longer, and the earth is finally warning up. Now that the Memorial Day holiday is past, it feels like summer already. The warm, sunny days are encouraging a new profusion of flowers and growth. I spent an hour with my camera this morning, and I saw such beauty at every turn.
“Spring moves on, on her run-down broken toe shoes
into the summer, trailing green ribbons of silk.”
— Ted Kooser, “In Late Spring”