Happy Winter Solstice!

 

 

In looking for a poem that fits this picture of a gull taken during the Winter Solstice in 2012, I turned to the Poetry Foundation's website. Right off, I came across this poem by a favorite poet of mine, Mary Oliver, who was born in Ohio. Mary lived in the east during her adult years, but many of her nature poems have their roots in Ohio.

 

I love the winter solstice. It is a day to remember ancient people who planned their celebrations of life around the natural calendar. I always take the day off, a welcome break in all the Christmas preparation frenzies. I usually do not have a clear-cut plan of how I will spend the day, I simply drive around to see what I'll see. Last year I came across gulls at my regular nature spot, which was a treat because gulls are not all that common at the reservoirs.

 

This year, I invited Denise to motor around with me. Our loose plan is to meander to Lake Erie, but with heavy rains predicted for the day, our plans may change to staying closer to home. Either way, and with or without Old Sol, we'll enjoy our respite from Holiday Madness.

 

I wish calmness and serenity on this Winter Solstice Day, the shortest day of the year. I'm feeling a little bit like Age of Aquarius right now!

 

Marcheta *let the sun shine, let the sun shine in!

 

White-Eyes

By Mary Oliver b. 1935 Mary Oliver

In winter

    all the singing is in

         the tops of the trees

             where the wind-bird

with its white eyes

    shoves and pushes

         among the branches.

             Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,

    but he's restless—

         he has an idea,

             and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings

    as long as he stays awake.

         But his big, round music, after all,

             is too breathy to last.

So, it's over.

    In the pine-crown

         he makes his nest,

             he's done all he can.

I don't know the name of this bird,

    I only imagine his glittering beak

         tucked in a white wing

             while the clouds—

which he has summoned

    from the north—

         which he has taught

             to be mild, and silent—

thicken, and begin to fall

    into the world below

         like stars, or the feathers

               of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,

    that is asleep now, and silent—

         that has turned itself

             into snow

Country Goldfinches

 

Today's post is about the Golden Birds of Summer, aka "Goldfinches". I just adore those little smile-makers!

I  think of Goldfinches as bits of sundrops flitting around. They are welcome additions to our bird feeding area, but seeing them out and about in the wild is even more special. They definitely make me smile when I come across them. 

I know that my affection for goldfinches is not solitary. Whose heart could not be lightened when it sees a flash of gold zip by?

Ohio Born poet Mary Oliver caught the essence of these cheerful-colored birds in a poem she simply titled, "Goldfinches"

Marcheta *smiling

Goldfinches

In the fields
we let them have-
in the fields
we don’t want yet-

where thistles rise
out of the marshlands of spring, and spring open-
each bud
a settlement of riches-

a coin of reddish fire-
the finches
wait for midsummer,
for the long days,

for the brass heat,
for the seeds to begin to form in the hardening thistles,
dazzling as the teeth of mice,
but black,

filling the face of every flower.
Then they drop from the sky.
A buttery gold,
they swing on the thistles, they gather

the silvery down, they carry it
in their finchy beaks
to the edges of the fields,
to the trees,

as though their minds were on fire
with the flower of one perfect idea-
and there they build their nests
and lay their pale-blue eggs,

every year,
and every year
the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches,
in the silver baskets,

and love the world.
Is it necessary to say any more?
Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields?
Have you ever been so happy in your life?

-Mary Oliver

G