In the moonlit glade, a lynx appears, Fur-tipped ears, green-gold eyes quelling fears, A guardian wise, like an androsphinx’s grace, Yet, ponder, do we anthropomorphize his face?
All-knowing aura, mystique in his stare, Yet, does he ponder life with a thoughtful air? Do we project our musings, a human reflection, Onto the lynx, seeking a shared connection?
In the silent forests, mysteries untold, Does the lynx ponder more than hunger bold? Hissing and yowling and screams in the night, A startling assertion of nature’s might.
In winter’s embrace, a lonely man found cheer, A red fox came, a friend so dear.
Exquisite fur, eyes of blue-green grace, Shared scraps, forming a bond in that quiet space.
Yet, in reaching out, a truth unfolds, Wild and untamed, as nature holds.
Teeth bared, a lesson swiftly learned, A cunning companion, loyalty unearned.
I found it difficult to teach my children to be wary of wild animals when so many children’s books, cartoons, and movies – especially Disney movies, portrayed them as cute and cuddly creatures.
In a quiet wood where leaves gently spread, A hedgehog dwelled, his own path he’d tread. Alone he preferred, in solitude’s embrace, Away from his prickle, a solitary grace.
In rustling leaves, he found delight, Playing alone, a lone hedge’s right. Curling in a ball, he’d peacefully sleep, In solitude’s company, his secrets to keep.
One morn, a snowy blanket covered the land, The woods adorned in an arctic strand. Under the sun’s gaze, a serene tableau, Yet, no fellow creatures, no friend or foe.
As he played in the snow, a shadow drew near, Unseen by the hedgehog, it whispered in his ear. In his longing for solace, he returned to his den, Curled up in a ball once more, in dreams to transcend.
Little hedgehog, in the quiet of his rest, Unaware of the shadow, a mysterious guest. Alone, he slumbers, in his dream’s reprieve, In the snowy woods, where secrets weave.
I first learned about hedgehogs from TheTale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, a delightful little children’s book written and illustrated by Beatrix Potter. Although the protagonist hedgehog interacted with other animals in the story, hedgehogs are known to be solitary creatures – save for mating. I know at least one person who is very much a loner, like the hedgehog, and he seems very content. :)
Photographed by Joan Currie – The Botticelli Drawings Exhibit, Head of a Youth, Roman, 2nd century AD, marble
Ode to Cutting Off a Nose by Joan Currie
There was a young man who was vain, His self-absorbed nature was plain. Despite all the money he’d spend, No one thought of him as a friend.
He was vengeful, spiteful, and mean, People say he was rarely seen. His mother was wary of him, His future – decidedly grim.
One day when he looked in the mirror, He pronounced that he looked rather queer. So he cut off his aquiline nose, And fed all the parts to the crows.
As I was examining the marble Head of a Youth at the Botticelli Drawings exhibit at the Legion of Honor in San Francisco, I thought of the expression, “cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face,” as well as Vincent van Gogh cutting off his ear, and the ominous “Wheat Field with Crows,” one of van Gogh’s last paintings executed in 1890 before his death. The above poem was born out of that Joycean stream-of-consciousness.
I wonder what other people think when they look at great works of art? Who knows, but it could be very interesting!
In the peaks where snow doth lie, A creature graced with silent stride, Snow leopard roams beneath the sky, In the realm where frost abides.
With fur of silver, spots of night, Its gaze, ice blue, a mystic sight, Amongst snow-capped mountains high, A guardian beneath the moonlight.
Once a child of that mountain air, A woman now, distant and fair, From the village, she did part, Leaving behind a heavy heart.
In dreams, she hears the snow’s soft call, A longing echoes through the hall, Her spirit yearns for frozen grace, To wander in that wild embrace.
The snow leopard, a silent guide, Through peaks where memories abide, Its eyes like crystals, piercing cold, A tale of nature’s beauty told.
The woman, haunted by the past, Desires the mountains, free at last, To return to where her soul belongs, Amidst the snow, where it prolongs.
Through valleys deep and rivers wide, Her heart retraces steps beside, Towards the peaks, she yearns to climb, Reconnect with frozen time.
Oh, snow leopard with eyes so bright, Guide her through the frigid night, To find her way, to nature’s lore, To the mountains she adored once more.
The northern landscapes that shaped my early years now seem like distant dreams. I wish for a winter’s day, especially in the late afternoon as the sun is setting, when the snow is infused with soft shades of white, blue, lavender, and rose.
Photographed by Joan Currie at the Seattle Art Museum – The Great Wave off Kanagawaby Hokusai
During the Ebo period, ukiyo-e, woodblock prints became enormously popular. Sold in small shops and on the street, an ordinary print went for the price of a bowl of noodles. People of very modest income, therefore, could collect prints in albums or paste them on their walls. A highly efficient production system made this wide distribution of Japanese graphic art possible. From Gardner’s Art Through the Ages
It was thrilling to see The Great Wave, pictured above, at the Seattle Art Museum exhibit featuring the Japanese artist, Katsushika Hokusai (葛飾 北斎, c. 31 October 1760 – 10 May 1849). He is celebrated for having created approxiamtely 30,000 woodblock prints, paintings, illustrations, and sketches during his lifetime.
As this year hurtles towards its end, I thought of Hokusai’s Great Wave, and found myself amidst a sea of unfinished tasks and uncharted waters. Like the towering wave, these last few days of 2023 have loomed large, yet I am carried forth by the inexorable force of time.
As I look at the intricate details of Hokusai’s work, I see parallels in my own year-end reflections. The waves symbolize exquisite beauty, contrasts of dark and light, highs and lows, dynamism, chaos, and complexities of life, while the boats – the challenges I have faced throughout the year (a little trying to stay afloat but mostly enjoying the ride!).
I look forward to catching a new Great Wave in 2024!
No Christmas Goose! Papa, please don’t make Gilbert the Christmas goose! I love him so. How about ham? from All Poetry
Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas! Fowl, but not goose, will be at our dinner table this year. Looking forward to merriment with family and friends. Be well!
Mischievous Shiba lives for those moments when you tell him he can’t do something. “No” means a very interesting challenge, and he will devise all sorts of strategies to subvert you.from Shibashake.com
Christmas arrived early in the form of a delightful Shiba Inu named Yumi. She is our second rescue dog and now a devoted companion to her bigger, but not older sister, Kimmie. This sweet dog was initially very anxious, trembling in the corner of her cage, and not making eye contact. But my daughter, Lauren, was very patient and loving with her, and now this 16 pound bundle of joy has become a playful and charmingly naughty member of the family.
Yumi is not a lap dog, and never will be – cuddling is not in her nature. She has an independent spirit and an innate respect for her caregiver’s space. She has lots of energy and loves to hide toys and then find them with great prancing and tail wagging. She makes you appreciate how animals (and humans, too) can blossom with kindness and understanding.
Purple (or violet) symbolizes repentance and penance. Vestments of purple or violet are used during the seasons of Advent and Lent. The color reminds us of the violet flower that bows its head and is a symbol of humility.
I saw a magnificent Golden Eagle soaring above me yesterday on my hike. What captured my attention was not its wingspan or plumage but its dark purple beak! It made me reflect on the color purple – one that has been associated with royalty and spirituality for centuries. In the context of Christmas, it carries a rich symbolism in the Nativity – one of the three Wise Men, Balthazar, wore a purple cloak and later Jesus was draped in a purple robe as King of Kings.
My last post celebrated the color red and a more secular vision of Christmas. But the color purple drew me into the real meaning of Christmas, the celebration of Christ’s birth, the liturgies, a deep reverence for the omnipresent spirit and ways of the Lord, and a profound connection with my fellow human beings.
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day. From Fall, Leaves, Fall by Emily Brontë
I reveled in the beauty of fall on my walk – but, there was a bittersweet undertone to the experience. The leaves that carpeted my path were a sign that the world around me was preparing for a long slumber. The once-bustling woods would soon be hushed by the frigid grip of winter. The trees, now so alive with color, will soon stand bare and vulnerable.
Satin & Sand 