This morning, I woke to a soft glow rising over the chicken coop - another day at Lonewolf, this place of unending beauty. The sun soon revealed a world covered in hoarfrost, a sight I never tire of seeing. I remain in awe of this immeasurable wonder.
As the morning opened further, the chickadees sang among the branches, and, as they sang, the hoarfrost quietly let go. I stepped outside to witness it, to feel it on my skin as it silently drifted down...
After returning to the kitchen, I opened a book of poems to William Stafford's, "One Home." And now, I've fallen in love all over again with my life and his words...
Mine was a Midwest home—you can keep your world.
Plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.
We sang hymns in the house; the roof was near God.
The light bulb that hung in the pantry made a wan light,
but we could read by it the names of preserves—
outside, the buffalo grass, and the wind in the night.
A wildcat sprang at Grandpa on the Fourth of July
when he was cutting plum bushes for fuel,
before Indians pulled the West over the edge of the sky.
To anyone who looked at us we said, “My friend”;
liking the cut of a thought, we could say “Hello.”
(But plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code.)
The sun was over our town; it was like a blade.
Kicking cottonwood leaves we ran toward storms.
Wherever we looked the land would hold us up.
~ William Stafford
My images from this morning
Nice. What beautiful pictures. Memories from my roots.ReplyDelete
Thank you, Manzi. I love that we share Minnesota in our memories.Delete
Very nice thoughts.The frost signaled a warm front coming through, I love the beauty it creates very well.Getting a dusting of snow here today.ReplyDelete
Yes, it was a nice warm day and a few more to come...Delete
...and thank you for sharing your Midwest life. Exquisitely beautiful!ReplyDelete
Joan, It's such a treat to hear from you, in the middle of your summer... and the walk of a lifetime to look forward to... :)Delete
We have been blessed with a lot of beautiful mornings this winter. It makes it so much nicer to get out of bed to greet the day!ReplyDelete
Haven't we? Countless.... Yes, it makes all the difference...Delete
Isn't it an especially sweet gift to remember how much we love a place, to feel that thrill and tingle of falling in love again? This is a truly beautiful, sweet post, honoring your home. And I loved that poem....ReplyDelete
Ashling, so good to hear from you... Are staying warm and cozy there? Yes, it's such a good place to be... Thanks for the kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed it.Delete
A lovely post, Teresa, and lovely photos. I like the Stafford poem; don't think I've come across it before.ReplyDelete
Hi George, It was new to me, also. I'm so glad I opened to it. It just seemed right.Delete
I just came in from a midday walk to the mailbox. Rocky has descended upon us, blowing a mighty white shower of snow. It was a beautiful walk and when I came in, the kitchen light shone on my black coat and it glistened, Teresa, with the icy pellets of snow. A pot of tea is on, I hear the blower outside on the drive, and here are your lovely words and this remarkable poem. I think I like your words the best, however, especially "As the morning opened further, the chickadees sang among the branches, and, as they sang, the hoarfrost quietly let go. I stepped outside to witness it, to feel it on my skin as it silently drifted down...".ReplyDelete
Penny, Your comments are always so beautiful, I cannot tell how they make my heart sing. Just Beautiful, and so warm. Thank you so much.Delete
Winter is a beautiful season with clear deep blue skies and snow or frost sparkling on everything, making it look so clean and fresh. I loved winter when I lived in Montana.ReplyDelete
There is such beauty in that freshness and we've had a lot of "freshness" this winter... :) Most days, I'm way past acceptance and often deeply in love with it...Delete
I love the diversity of America, one experience so very different from another and so many potential lives to be led. Being at peace with the choices one has made is such a key.ReplyDelete
Just beautiful, this, the author, photographer and the poet.
It is imperative to find that peace, isn't it? Key to a meaningful life... Thank you so much, Jill. Your kind words mean a great deal to me.Delete
Sense of place is so important. Many Americans have lost the appreciation for not only who they are but where they are. This fine piece of writing reveals an inner most sanctum of where you live. Very inviting, indeed!ReplyDelete
It feels good (most days) to be at home literally and figuratively. Nature and wildlife make it easy to love.Delete
Very interesting poem -- Words such as "plain black hats rode the thoughts that made our code," singing hymns in the house, and the described simplicity appear to me as hinting of Amish/Mennonite culture in Stafford's poem.ReplyDelete
Yes, they do, but I grew up in a Baptist home and singing hymns was a regular part of our lives there. Perhaps it hearkens to the simple country life, very simple. :)Delete
I expect an upcoming road trip to be to the midwest. Your photos are beautiful.ReplyDelete
I hope it proves to be another wonderful trip for you. Thank you, Linda. It sounds like Tucson was a fine place to spend the winter....Delete
It is a very good thing to be in love with where you live!ReplyDelete
Yes, it is.... :)Delete
wherever we looked the land would hold us up, love that line.ReplyDelete
Me, too. :))Delete
Dear Teresa, oh to have written this line: "liking the cut of a thought, we could say 'Hello.'" Peace.ReplyDelete
Isn't that wonderful? Love this man's poems.Delete
Dear Teresa, I went to the library yesterday to pick up my first book of poetry by William Stafford. Thank you for sharing......again. Peace.Delete
I hope you enjoy him as much as I do... He has some real gems here and there...Delete
The chickadees have begun to sing here also. It is good to fall in love with the place where you find yourself.ReplyDelete
Good Morning, Greg! So nice to hear from you here! "The place where you find yourself," yes, exactly.... Thank you...Delete
That light bulb, hanging in the pantry hung also in what I called The Cave, a combination fruit-and-storm cellar that held the canned goods generally and us occasionally. Say "midwest", and I don't think of much at all. Say "corn crib", "screen door slam" or "single light bulb hanging in the pantry", and I'm there, with all of the emotion still alive.ReplyDelete
My favorite line in the poem is, "Kicking cottonwood leaves, we ran toward storms". We live in a society determined to run away from every storm - the willingness to experience and cope with life always has seemed to me one of the distinguishing midwestern characteristics.
Yes, the corn crib and the screen door, ideas I've been working on for some time, waiting for the right words to fall... I think of the folks who live here as resilient and willing. Yes. Thank you for this thoughtful comment.Delete