Nature is front and center in a Japanese garden but not wild, untended nature. It’s carefully curated to appear entirely natural.
I call this sort of shape a Dr. Seuss tree as that’s what it reminds me of. 🙂
The boat on the lake adds so much to the look of the whole.
More red berries…
…and a fuzzy bud.
Don’t you feel more relaxed even though these are only photos? Serenity is key in this sort of garden.
When there’s smoke blurring/covering the distant views, look down! The close views were still beautiful as these bejeweled flowers perfectly demonstrate. After almost a year and a half in Arizona, I appreciate water drops on flowers (or anything) even more, although while we were gone, Arizona got quite a lot of rain. We did get some rain in the first week at the cabin. It’s quite lovely to sit on the deck/porch while it rains, reading, relaxing, and sipping tea or a beer.
“Rainy days should be spent at home with a cup of tea and a good book.”
― Bill Watterson, The Calvin and Hobbes Tenth Anniversary Book
Despite the smoke dulling things a bit and the fact that it was August, the flowers were still prolifically colorful.
“I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay
Always a beautiful view from the opposite end of the lake looking back at one of the cabins (not ours.)
“A little tranquil lake is more significant to my life than any big city in the world”
― Munia Khan
I’m glad it was sunny this morning for our ride, but now that the fog is moving in, let’s take a walk down to the lake. Everything is so different in the fog.
This is the First Lake (caps because that’s how it’s known.) There are three lakes total and all are stocked with trout. Oh, over there! Did you see that one jump? It was a big one. There’s been a mother moose and baby in the lake in the mornings, but if we see them, we’ll stay well away. The calf might find us interesting, which would make the mother very nervous and a nervous moose can easily become an attacking moose, moving at a speed as fast as that of a running horse.
Let’s sit on that flat rock for a bit. With the fog, it’s even quieter than usual, the fog dampens sounds, but we can still hear the water sounds. There are some ducks in the corner and the other day I spotted a red-tailed hawk. In the early evenings, the horses make their way to the lake, drinking and walking in and around it.
“A lake is a landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.”
Thoreau
We’re on the cusp of spring. As lights bloom from windows darkened by night, spring has danced away again. The fickle wind tonight sides with winter, madly blowing back the cold. It’s a rearguard battle. For a time, winter will lie heavily on the land. But spring will trip lightly back again…and again…and again… until winter has been routed once more. The welling joy brought by warmer weather is now tamped down, yet it sneaks out gloriously at random moments. The sun teases, promising what it can’t or won’t yet deliver, yet the promise is one that will soon come true. And so I wait, mostly patiently.
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Today I take a walk around the small lake that lies near our housing development. Although it’s really a run-off lake, the wonderful park system in our Chicago suburb has made it a lovely place. Now it too waits patiently for spring, surrounded by dead and battened-down grass punctuated by brittle brown stalks of last year’s milkweed topped by mostly empty pods. Almost everything looks as though it would snap off easily. Trash is enmeshed everywhere, filling me with rage at those who thoughtlessly throw out what could so easily be thrown away.
Geese sit on the ice, kept warm by fat and feathers, I suppose. Others waddle away, bottoms twitching pertly, as I walk by. Later when the goslings arrive, I may have to detour at times to avoid hissing, belligerent parents, but for now they’re content to move. I’ve learned to hiss right back, which works most of the time. The ice at the edge of the pond is thin now with water visible in places. Not far out, though, it’s still winter white and firm-looking, though I wouldn’t test it with my weight. It holds the geese without a problem.
In the mud I see a large dog print, large enough to be a Hound-of-the-Baskervilles puppy. On the other side of the lake is an empty deck where often a big, fluffy-haired white dog barks out of boredom at people passing by. He’ll probably be sad to see winter leave, his fur a distinct disadvantage in summer’s heat. Still, that’s far away from today. We haven’t even reached spring warmth yet.
I get only a short distance before my iPod stops working. I forgot to charge it after my last walk and now I leave the earbuds in to keep the wind out of my ears. My mind wanders, thinking about writing this post, then dancing on to other random thoughts. I have the path to myself, sans geese, and it is, as our older daughter once said when she was little, “a beautiful day.”
Welcome to March and the excitement of spring in our hopefully not-too-distant future! In our family it’s also birthday month, time for celebrations of both nature and family. Outside, though, winter still laughs, wags its finger at our anticipation of spring and reminds us it might have a few tricks left up its snowy, chilly sleeve. During a time when white is often the predominant color, a look back (or ahead) at past springs when color rules makes a good way to start the week. “Nature” is the theme for the first Phoneography Monday of the month, so click on the link to find all the entries or to participate.
Walks around the lake
Lead us to discoveries
Time for holding hands
Around the lake near our house (Boost from Picasa)
A misty morning on the lake outside our daughter’s house (Vignette from Picasa)
Around the lake near our house (Boost from Picasa)
This, that and the other thing 