bird walk

these are the birds i've seen the last few weeks by the sacramento river. i'd take pictures of them if i was able. but i don't have a nikkor telephoto and sick nikon like my dad. so i rely on others to illustrate.
hooded merganser 
gadwall
american widgeon
mallard
northern shoveler
buffflehead
ring-necked
and maybe a common goldeneye
my favorite this season is the gadwall. at first glance, you'd think he was a boring brown. but nay. he is gorgeous. i especially like the black bum.
the following is by Kenneth Grahame from Wind in the Willows, possibly the best story book ever composed. it's the song the water rat sang to tick off the ducks in the river.


Ducks' Ditty
All along the backwater,

Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!

Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight
Busy in the river!

Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roach swim—
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.

Everyone for what he likes!
We like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!

High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call—
We are down a-dabbling
Up tails all!

[as freedom is a breakfastfood]

from the coolest website ever, the poetry foundation's.

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

as freedom is a breakfastfood

or truth can live with right and wrong

or molehills are from mountains made

—long enough and just so long

will being pay the rent of seem

and genius please the talentgang

and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow

or hopes dance best on bald men’s hair

and every finger is a toe

and any courage is a fear

—long enough and just so long

will the impure think all things pure

and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind

and robins never welcome spring

nor flatfolk prove their world is round

nor dingsters die at break of dong

and common’s rare and millstones float

—long enough and just so long

tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words by joy’s the voice

down shall go which and up come who

breats will be breasts thighs will be thighs

deeds cannot dream what dreams can do

—time is a tree(this life one leaf)

but love is the sky and i am for you

just so long and long enough

quality literature by a. a. milne

Ernest was an elephant, a great big fellow,
Leonard was a lion with a six foot tail,
George was a goat, and his beard was yellow,
And James was a very small snail.

Leonard had a stall, and a great big strong one,
Earnest had a manger, and its walls were thick,
George found a pen, but I think it was the wrong one,
And James sat down on a brick

Earnest started trumpeting, and cracked his manger,
Leonard started roaring, and shivered his stall,
James gave a huffle of a snail in danger
And nobody heard him at all.

Earnest started trumpeting and raised such a rumpus,
Leonard started roaring and trying to kick,
James went on a journey with the goats new compass
And he reached the end of his brick.

Ernest was an elephant and very well intentioned,
Leonard was a lion with a brave new tail,
George was a goat, as I think I have mentioned,
but James was only a snail.

An email asked me...

...if you died tomorrow, what would you want people to learn from your life?
If I died tomorrow I'd want people to learn joy from my life.
Joy in crisp wind, choppy water, dive bombing mocking birds, the way golden retrievers' hair looks like silken waves when they chase a frisbee, the warmth of a smokey ill-built fire, hot press-pot coffee from ethiopia when waking up cramped and sore after a night under the stars, seeing children's faces light up when they learn about how the nine times table works, their dropped jaw as a raven steals from a killdeer's nest, beavers floating in a half-frozen pond, the knowledge that someone has just met Jesus and have fallen at His feet is adoration, discussion about theology and how it's not a task only of ancient pedagogy to be thus dismissed, friends in far places that remember to write, red-winged black birds kareeking to each other among the cattails, knitting a warm hat for a little one to keep her ears warm, the touch and sight of natural textiles, the slubbiness of linen, the softness of alpaca, the strength of cotton, the smallest things like a nutchatch walking upside down on a tree, how themes are woven into novels, how butter makes things taste better, clothes that do things like insulate, wick moisture or keep rain out while not making you overheat, cars that don't break down, warm fresh-baked whole wheat bread, unconditional love, quirkiness, God being bigger than all your fears, truth, and hymns from scripture:

I know not why God's wondrous grace
To me He hath made known,
Not why, unworthy, Christ in love,
Redeemed me for His own.
But "I know whom I have believed
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I've committed
Unto Him against that day."
~Daniel Whittle

a.r. ammons

small song

the reeds give
way to the

wind and give
the wind away

ridgefield wildlife refuge, washington

la cosa que ahorra, sostiene

the thing that saves, sustains.
matchless grace. grace without matching.
that God would bestow the gift of life upon me and then pour blessings upon me on top and brimming and over and above even that.
romans 8 is starting to make a lot more sense to me. this is good, since it is about living by the Spirit. the highest and noblest of callings.
who or what can be against me? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?... who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall trouble or hardship...?
He gives all good things. every good and perfect gift is from above coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights... comfort. joy.
what do the lost do without Him? my heart hurts to conjecture. a dark and scary place. it's a wonder to me the suicide rate isn't profoundly higher. tell them! Christ's love compels. tell them!

Wonderful grace of Jesus,
Greater than all my sin;
How shall my tongue describe it,
Where shall its praise begin?
Taking away my burden,
Setting my spirit free;
For the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me.

Wonderful the matchless grace of Jesus,
Deeper than the mighty rolling sea;
Wonderful grace, all sufficient for me, for even me.
Broader than the scope of my transgressions,
Greater far than all my sin and shame,
O magnify the precious Name of Jesus.
Praise His Name!

a wintry sonnet

Christina Rossetti

A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main.--
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.

squirrel watching

there are no black cats...

only cat-shaped holes in the universe