Strange early morning skies, complete with Baroque shafts of sunlight fanning out from above.
The sky flattens & closes in, a sure sign of a watering to come.
Wind, then calm, then wind, then calm (pause & repeat).

The last blue moon until 2015 rises up silently and with great discretion, a delicate China white plate against the pale blue sky of sunset, at first too pale to even notice her arrival.
Her luminosity grows with her rising elevation.
Flat blue clouds encroach her on three sides.
@ 19h23 her hue shifts from white to yellow & she truly begins to sing her song.
The wind through the leaves of the big tree accompany her ascent.
Later, a bat the size of a pigeon flies by.
A spooky, strong wind, laced with moonlight, closes the night.

Clear sunlight cleans the day.
The trees wave in the wind, their leaves slightly curled showing two shades of green to the world.
Pigeons standing around, not doing really much of anything.
Sunflowers blazing in the afternoon sunlight.
Swollen green pears bob among the bushy leaves of their mother-tree.
The swelling moon rises up over the southern banks of the river.
A band of pink pastel hugs the horizon line as the moon mounts & rides the night sky.

The 4pm sunlight is fresh & crisp.
The summer light is lifting, lightening.
All the forms of green tremble in the afternoon breeze.
Leaves tinted yellow pepper the green & some even dare to carpet the low hill.
Renegade curls of dried leaves crunch underfoot as I stroll.
Sunlight strong on the back of my neck.
The river dark & blue as I approach.
Yellow follows green (oh! orange follows yellow to be sure)
Crickets sing one song as the tall birch topped by sunlight sing another.
Shafts of sunlight illuminate the muddy bottom of the river.
Gulls speck the far side of the surface of the river with white spots.
Oh Wabi Sabi oh!

13 ducks work the water's surface, some upside down some right side up.
The shift in light shifts the sense of locale, all the while the wind whispers.
A small yellow butterfly dances before me for a while.
At a bend in the path the water turns green as it flows under the crooked willow tree with three twisted trunks.
I round the bend & smell the fall.
A moldy rocks lit by the sunlight glows under the water, like an ancient tablet.
Leaves float on the surface of the river, swirling in the current, with comrades joining them now & then from the trees on the other bank.
The little point of land that juts into the river flickers in the curtain of light & shadow.
The river's current makes jazzy shapes on the surface.
Two twisted trees, both black with the char of an old fire.

Albino squirrel (!) darts across the green grass & scampers up the trunk of a tree under the waxing, rising half-moon.
East side of the mountain, green & rising.
A staccato wash of grey clouds drifting in and filtering out the pastel colours of the evening sky.
Later, moonlight descending & warm, humid air enveloping.

Host of  Sparrows flying in formation.
Two golden Eagles slowly surf the solar therms high above, looping leisurely maybe looking for lunch.
Giant palm leaves, like shark fins or whale tails, bob slightly.
Large peace lilies in white bloom.
The sound of water tinkling.
Bodrum flowers, in pink, in purple, in  peach clusters.
Giant orange Hibiscus flowers.
Humid, sweet, tropical air wraps me in quietude.
The setting sun illumes the western side of an ancient Maple, the wide reach & spread of his thick branches making a tent, a shelter over me.
Propellers fall as I sit with my back pressed against the gnarly trunk, fore-shadowing, for sure.
Quartz crystal glows in the sun sitting on the palm of my hand.
A propeller now falls on my head.
Warm, soft 6pm wind informs the leaves of the old maple, a concert of some sort.
A crab apple tree heavy with clusters of bright red crab-apples the size of cherries.
Two striped raccoons scoot by in single file & off into their night jobs.

Sun rising, tinting the clouds in the distance.
He rises & begins to lord the day.
The morning air reeks of Skunk juice.
A large host of sparrows fly into the picture, hop about, and split again, up & away & off into the day.
This makes kitten very nervous indeed.

Crows in the distance.
Sun coming, Sun going.

Rich morning air cleaned by a night of summer rain.
Birds belt it out from the neighboring trees. The sky is hazy at first, but then Saturday morning's sun starts to shred the veil.
The seasonal assault by the Luftwaffe of wasps has arrived again, as sure as July passes into August.
19 degrees w/ scattered clouds.

Grey skies.
Humid, thick warm air.
Wet earth.
Basil trembling in the afternoon rain.

Kitten climbs on to my chest & welcomes me back from Night & Sleep, a purring ambassador of the day to come.
Later in the afternoon the rain comes, and it is good, very good.
On the side of the road is a battered & crumpled Monarch butterfly, maybe even missing a wing, in the very last moments of its very short life, so I carry it to the shelter of some long, wet grass in a garden to die with the dignity of solitude & quietude.  Alas, no more winters in sunny Mexico my friend, goodbye & goodnight!

A dead pigeon, flattened & decomposing, with left wing spread out, like a fallen angel, with flies crawling over it's carcass.
The smell of Juniper before the bush itself, peppered with dusty pale berries.
I feel the sun drawing a line down the center of my back.
The river is flat & grey as steel.
The sky darkens & flattens out as well, as rain is more than certain somewhere in the future.
Three seagulls fly through a gap in the trees lining the banks of the river.
The mountain looks blue squatting in the distance.
A butterfly whirls by as I descend the small hill.
Two orange butterflies dance together above the long grass.
Crickets chirp, not close, but not far either.
Yellow yarrow flowers pepper the woods.
Thick, humid air hugs the path.
Distant thunder beats out an approaching rhythm.
Burgundy Sumac pods bounce in the breeze.
Ducks bobbing upside down near the bank of the river.
Two bulldogs & a grey pit-bull pass me on the path.
Dry fallen leaves crunch underfoot.
The river darkens to match the sky.
Heron shit, greenish-greyish maybe litters the small point of land that pokes into the green river.
A giant carp, maybe 1/2 meter long, slowly floats under the surface of the water.
Bubbles rise up marking something.
A heron, in the distance, on a fallen branch that angles down into the water.
I see a vertical bank of rain clouds far off, above the rapids.
A grey squirrel chides me from the trunk of a tree at the same time thunder rumbles somewhere.
The storm seems to be coming in fast.
Waves, with whitecaps, scallop the surface of the river.
The birches sway hard.
Lightening snaps above the far shore.
The rain never arrives, but carries onwards towards the East.
Later the sun returns to set things right for sunset.

Cobwebs brush my face as I step into the light of day.
Cobwebs strangely stretched all over the place, lit by the light of the rising sun.
Birds tinkling their morning songs from inside the green canopies of birch trees.
The tops of the basil begin to flower against my wishes.

Bird songs.
The rising sun says hello again, same time, same place.
A snail with a striped shell sits squat in the middle of the dusty path.
A small yellow bird clings to the stalk of a corn flower, eating its dried seeds for breakfast.
A female mallard cruises me & moves on, as I squat on on a big rock in the flowing river.
Three separate squadrons of  Canadian geese fly overhead, honking, always honking.
The surface of the river trembles with the tickles of the morning breeze.
Water flowing, sun rising, breeze blowing, life living.
Kitten eats a bug.
18 degrees & sunny.

A tiny blue dragonfly flies by.
Ducks swimming upstream leisurely.
A magnificent grey heron standing perfectly still watching the river, sentry-style.
On the bank of the other side of the river, his comrade perches on a fallen tree trunk.
Yellow-budded yarrow plants pepper the side of the path.
Mother is humid & languid at 4 in the afternoon.
Green & heat & slow mix all around me, as the river winds by.

Lord Sun rises again, and I witness this.
The river sparkles & twinkles with a frosting of pink light.
Extra-skinny spiders spin their webs in the light of the rising sun.
A bird in a tree sings right next to where I stand.
A large splash in the centre of the river, not in time to see what it was.
The air is thick with warmth & the first day of August.
Later, the clouds arrive & change the day into a different day completely.

.