Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Untangling the labyrinth

This labyrinth in the forest provided a wonderful place for untangling some thoughts about a group of poems I have been working on for too long.

But then, that's one of the purposes of walking a labyrinth -- it's a meditative experience where one may seek answers to questions. As the sign near the entry point of this labyrinth puts it, "The labyrinth is a metaphor for our journey through life."

This one, located in the Oregon forest at Bandon Dunes, was silent and empty, the perfect spot for clearing my mind and finding a focus for going forward. Patterned after the famous labyrinth at Chartres, walking its patterned arcs made me think of the convoluted lines of the brain.

The gift I left at its centre? Two pine cones
that looked as though they wanted to be friends.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Foresty yin and yang

Spring. The vernal equinox. Ostara. The death of winter, the beginnings of things that grow.

I suppose some will find the image on this post not to their liking. It certainly presented me with something I'd never seen before -- a slug waltzing past the still-fresh corpse of a bird, The odd pairing seemed fitting to the cycle of change this day represents.

And really, when could a slug ever hope to pass that near a bird? A reminder that it's time to reach for dreams.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Kreativ spelling

When I saw this sign, I had to think for a minute, as I didn't think a garden centre would have much to do with Seder, a practice that's observed as part of Judaism.

I'm pretty sure they meant that they had cedar trees for sale.

I almost wish I'd spotted this and taken the photo sooner, as I might have entered it in "Signs" a show currently on exhibit at one of our local community galleries. Not that the image would have made the cut, but it might have given the judges a laugh.

Monday, March 09, 2015

Pruning time

Yet again, it's time for the first of the haircuts I give to my blackberries. This round of pruning, first of the season, is always the most drastic. It's the one where I cut away all the frizzy brown clumps of dried-out berries and get rid of branches that have died. It's also where I get to chop out all the straggly bits that wouldn't produce much in the way of fruit anyway.

Strange, I suppose, that a job like this -- which involves avoiding some very nasty thorns -- could be one that brings me such pleasure. Even though this year's prune took three separate afternoons, I know that it was worth it. After all, who doesn't like blackberry pie or jam?

Yesterday (when I finished this job) was not only International Women's Day, but also the day we had to set our clocks for Daylight Saving Time, My son, liberated soul that he is, pointed out that once again, women were getting the short end of the stick -- that even the day dedicated to celebrating us had been pruned by an hour -- sort of the way our wages still don't measure up to those of men.

But, you might be wondering, what's with the chain? No symbolism around women and their roles, I promise. It's just there (along with what looks like a dancer's barre) to keep those prickly branches in line later in the season when their branches are weighted down with all that luscious fruit.