November
1999
Holidays
coming, I mused, as I stepped out the door and sniffed the sweet smell
of lollipops in the making. On the Greenbelt, a backlog of yellow
leaves behind the dam to the canal halted my eye—oops, no camera.
Maybe half the leaves have fallen, covering the trail and dog piles.
Such a lovely time of year, gold cottonwoods and blue sky reflecting in
the water. Gulls soaring overhead. Western grebes stopping
by the lake.
It's
mild in Flicker Forest. Waited impatiently for a pair of lovers to
leave my bench, so I could finish qigong practice there. As
I waited a familiar dark shape flew along the stream, stopping on the very
same branch as last year: ah, the sharp shinned hawk is back for
the winter. I like the way it flutters its tail when it lands.
Later I heard the familiar calls of a flock of kinglets and chickadees.
Have they been around and I didn’t notice in the leaves of summer?
Like flocks of waxwings--just when do I they come around? One day
about 10 male mallards hung out together, curly tails grown anew after
the long eclipse phase of late summer. Yesterday, though, the mallards
were paired, and lo! November mating, before my very eyes, in the stream
just as in spring! Obviously we're not the only ones who think it
feels like spring! Both ducks waggled their tails afterwards, the
male, as he fled. Had to laugh. How true. As always,
the great blue heron flew long before my approach, big beautiful wings
flapping.
As
I stood "like a tree" in qigong posture, realized it's the Moon of Listening
to Leaves. The woods are far from silent. Leaves float, zigzaging
their way towards the floor, often gently brushing by other leaves.
Some land in the stream. Branches ricochet through the canopy, some
catch and remain hanging, others crash and thud. I'm learning to
distinguish the crunch of a squirrel's leap from falling leaves and
footsteps.
Standing
still, I felt a familiar tickle on a finger tip. Ever hopeful I'm
experiencing "qi sensation", I've learned to look first. Ach, here
it is November and a fall wasp is still hopefully walking around on my
exposed finger! What a long season those fellow creatures are having
this year. Lord, bless ‘em and keep me from accidentally swatting
or folding one up!
Well
settled into the posture a familiar bzzz caught my ear. Automatically
looked high in the trees, thinking it was a kinglet before realizing, there
at my feet was a wren. It was busy in the root of a tree right by
the water. When did I last see a wren! Is it house wren?
Sounded a bit like a winter wren. To the books!
Flickers
still drum, but with less intensity it seems. Kingfishers fly up
and down the stream, but not quite as noisily. Doves still peck along
the trail as always. Especially good to hear the call of the dipper
again and watch him/her fly downstream. Old friends.
Out
walking another morning the red legs and feet contrasting with the white
breast of a male merganser caught my eye from far across the river.
A male wood duck flew out of the top of a tall cottonwood, and landed in
the lake, the first wood duck I’d seen in some time. As I walked
on, a tiny duck—must be a pied billed grebe—quickly scooted away from me,
then dove out of sight, seemingly never to reappear. In the brush
there’s a stunning purple leafed vine I’ve not noticed before.
Another
morning as I was watching the the sharp-shinned hawk chase a magpie, met
up with a fellow trail mate. One who says he never sees anything,
then goes on to unfold amazing tales. We walked on together, admiring
the gorgeous day, which must have opened the channels of communication,
because I learned more about his philosophy of life than ever before.
Soon I was howling in delight at his revelations and stories.
Perhaps
the most amazing one was he'd recently run over a squirrel! We’re
talking bicycle! As it was told: squirrel changed mind, dashed
under wheels. The runer-overer felt awful. The ran-over went
over by a tree and "looked kind of snakey". Did my best to assure
the teller the squirrel is probably fine.
When
my companion left, I went on to my qigong practice, smiling, keeping an
eye on the silhouette of a great horned owl we'd spotted in the distance
(thanks to crows mobbing it), the first one I’d seen in ages. A downy
woodpecker called off in the woods. Squirrels frolicked. Soaring
gulls made shadows through the branches. What a stupendous day.
Did not want to come in! As I packed up, the sharp-shinned glided
silently up canal. Noticed the barefoot fellow, shirtless today,
walking slowly in the distance. Gee its swell not to be the weirdest
one on the Greenbelt for a change.
Thank
you for the good company and the gorgeous day!
