Magnuson Park Trees and Ducks and Birds and ...

Sycamore

Cottonwood has her Leaves on

Nesting in plain sight, but he is watchful

Northern Shoveler

Everyone's SINGING!

Magnuson Park's Mountain

One Magnuson Park Misty Morning

There must be a poem about...

There is nothing like standing in a vortex

of singing Red-Winged Blackbirds

Marshlands

Park Overseer

Spring trying so hard to arrive

The herons are back

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water

and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light.

For a time I rest in the grace of the world

and am free.

Wendell Berry

Sacred Tree - Madrone - easy to see why...

 Madrone/Madrona

 Arbutus: amongst all the trees of the Pacific northwest, the Arbutus or Madrone Tree holds the title of most sacred tree to the original inhabitants of this vast region. In the legend of the great flood, the Salish First Nation describe how the Madrona tree provided an anchor for their canoes to hold steady and not drift away. On the British Columbia West Coast, the Salish Nation also honours the Arbutus Tree as their Tree of Knowledge because it knows how to find the sun. 

from www.touchingwoodrings.com

You can't see them but they ARE there!

March 30, 2012 First Swallow sighting!

Perhaps a dozen of them....



Let the dancing begin!

I finally caught the Eurasion Wigeons!

And some American Wigeons as well:



A juvenile Bald Eagle

Even from a distance this eagle looks big.

And closer still...

Eagle Poem

        Joy Harjo

 To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you.

And know there is more

That you can’t see, can’t hear

Can’t know except in moments

Steadily growing, and in languages

That aren’t always sound but other

Circles of motion.

Like eagle that Sunday morning

Over Salt River.  Circled in blue sky

In wind, swept our hearts clean

With sacred wings.

We see you, see ourselves and know

That we must take the utmost care

And kindness in all things.

Breathe in, knowing we are made of

All this, and breathe, knowing

We are truly blessed because we

Were born, and die soon, within a

True circle of motion,

Like eagle rounding out the morning

Inside us.

We pray that it will be done

In beauty

In beauty.