Oon

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Sunshine just told me that Oon means “wool” in Hindi. Seems a suitable name for this little sweet faced toy from the gift exchange at the spinning retreat.

Desert Mesa Spinning retreat in Cache Creek was great fun. Lots of congenial company, knowledgeable spinners, and laughter. Bill did a minor adjustment to my wheel. (He gave it an experienced “whack” and corrected something that has been a bother for months. Bless him!) Participants from all over the province, a very supportive atmosphere. Spring and fall events to anticipate.  Rural life is proving very interesting indeed.

 

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Barb sent this the other day. (Cross posted on Facebook so some repetition) The sentiment is appreciated.

 

 

A Poem…

 

The Wings of Daylight

Brightness appears showing us everything
it reveals the splendors it calls everything
but shows it to each of us alone
and only once and only to look at
not to touch or hold in our shadows
what we see is never what we touch
what we take turns out to be something else
what we see that one time departs untouched
while other shadows gather around us
the world’s shadows mingle with our own
we had forgotten them but they know us
they remember us as we always were
they were at home here before the first came
everything will leave us except the shadows
but the shadows carry the whole story
at first daybreak they open their long wings

 

William Stanley Merwin

 

 

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From a recent hike. The poem, just because I rather like it.

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Smoke Series

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A bit of restlessness, borne of a bit of house arrest due to the smoke levels made a road trip, just for the morning, necessary. The province, a good deal of it, is on fire.

It is a day of sharp edges today. The smoke a part of it. Of course, like all things, it passes.

(A neighbour told me the wind will change tonight, and the smoke will likely be as if it never was. But the evacuees and the beings in the line of fire remain. It seems wrong to light a stick of incense in this case, and so I don’t. Offering merit isn’t dependent on that anyway.)

 

 

A Good Day

New friends took me out for the day.  We searched for, and found, wild asparagus. We walked where I didn’t know we could go, and it was good. We had, get this, a small fire and had a (veggie) weiner roast! (This I haven’t done for a while. Years.)  And – we walked, and we walked. We saw the remains of a more prosperous time, 50, 60 years ago, more? This is part of the reason I came here.

The asparagus was an excellent dinner, with a bit of lemon and seasoned salt…

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At the site of the old orchard and homestead.  The mountain behind is called Arthur’s Seat.

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Another view of Arthur’s Seat.

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The Thompson River is swollen and full of debris after a recent heavy storm. Those are snow sheds for the trains on the other side. This is rugged country.

 

This Place

 

by Jennifer Firestone

This place previously in a vision      Wet pen drawn at the line
A place religiously tied     religiously religiously
A person, place or thing
Bring thy pebble or thy flowers or thy inscription
Bring bring bringeth your love
Dear ones bringeth your love
Ashes to trees
The trees!

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The Chinese cemetery in Ashcroft has been beautifully restored. There has been great care taken with cleaning up the grave sites and a talented local artist is responsible for the dragon and the tiger you see on the altar. The central plaque details the formal apology the provincial government offered in 2014, an apology for centuries of racist practises, both institutional and on the part of the citizenry.  The cemetery sits right next to the train tracks, up on the hill out of the village.

One offers incense without lighting it, given the extreme fire risk in this windswept region. It struck me that this is a place that would benefit from offerings of merit.  I recommend a stop and a walk around if one is in the area.

 

The poem was one of the daily ones I get by email, seemed to fit.