The Winter Garden

The Winter Garden

Silent and still, the garden sleeps.
Crooked fence posts stand sentry, starkly contrasted against the brilliant landscape.
A single glass totem sits, tilted and topped with snow. Temporarily forgotten.
Barbed wire sags lazily, resting in wait of it’s required vigilance.
Remnants of ragged twine dangle loosely, motionless.
Brittle and greyed corn husks defy the authority of the commanding white mantel, escaping it’s grip by inches, in denial of their demise, unaware of the life they shield at their feet.
Folding topography of ripples and mounds an intimation of the graves of last year’s remains.
Tatters of tomato vines and pea plants leech nutrients into the soil, preparing a bed for their progeny.
Seeds slumber under the shimmering arm of winter, sheltered from harm.
Life quietly awaits instruction from the Almighty God to resume.

Wood Gathering: A Poem

At night in the woods.

Disclaimer: This is kind of a cliché poem but I had fun writing it.

Air sharp as glass, ice scraping flesh

Breath escaping in frosty plumes

Feet frozen, struggling up hill to the place where the wood lies

Snow glows bluish, dark shapes fracturing it’s crust, frozen in escape

Stillness, snow holding tightly to all sound but the travelers

Constellations assume their poses, looking back through time with patient curiosity, eyes extinguished for millenia

Flashlights swing right to left and back, searching

Pausing, putting down the wood bag; catching breath

One stands watch while the other sets to work

Listening; sharp crack, blade falling

Wood rending under blows

Load bundled, nervous glances; fears better left unvoiced

Back to light, too far away

Not too quick, not wanting to look behind

Home close, steps quicken in urgency

Silent reassurances; nothing is there

A sound from the darkness, wood flung aside, clattering

All thoughts of fire forgotten

In flight, flashlights abandoned

Stairs, porch, door flung open, in

Dawn brings light, safety promised

Door opens, cautious glance

Long shadows cast by an early sun reveal clawed tracks in the snow

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A track my husband found right outside of our trailer last winter after hearing howls “like out of a movie” nearby.

I’ve Lost My Marbles

Cosmic meaning in slingshot balls.

Little white marbles. 400 of them. Just when I thought I was getting good at slingshot.

I figured I should find them before the first snow or before my husband gets his dream lawnmower next spring.

As I poked around through the brush and trees, I fell into a sort of trance or meditative state and started to see things differently. I saw symbolism in my search.

As I’ve mentioned, I suffer from depression and it’s been quite bad lately so I’ve used the opportunity to kind of try to let the negative feelings flow through me and out rather than sticking and hurting. It’s difficult but looking for the balls allows me to enter into a temporary state of mind where I can separate myself from the waves of emotion and observe almost from an outsider’s perspective.

While in this state of mind I begin to see patterns; messages, what have you, while I look for those hidden objects in the grass.

I understand this probably sounds a bit strange but even can see what my head is going about and in some way it’s profound. Interestingly enough, I feel as if I’m interacting with the balls in a small scale illustration of quantum theory and spirituality. I believe the two are one and the same although seemingly different. The post I wrote about nature and science refers to that.

What if math is beautiful?

I believe meaning in general, the “answers”; truth, is encoded into symbolism; as it is with spirituality and religion. Tonight as I wandered around I let thoughts and feelings flow through me as unaltered as possible and here are some things I thought about:

What if the balls as a collective represented spiritual truth? Then these were my observations:

  • They are ironically easier to find in the darkness rather than the light
  • The harder you look for them the more they sometimes elude you
  • Sometimes they are right at your feet and you miss them
  • Sometimes you miss them the first time then see them when looking from a different perspective
  • Some become ground into the dirt by carelessness but they still remain visible if you look closely enough
  • They are all around you but you don’t always see them
  • They seem to appear magically in front of you with the right frame of mind
  • Just when you think you’ve found them all there are always more
  • Although they seem lost forever, they are there, somewhere. Or are they?
  • They are there when observed and gone when not
  • They are more visible with an open mind
  • Some travel farther than others
  • Picking them out of the pine needles can hurt
  • They may become buried under snow but they will always be revealed with the melt
  • They will most certainly fuck up your husband’s lawnmower next spring if you don’t find them.

Do you think I’m crazy? 🙂