silver water, pink sky

pink sky at morn, sailors forlorn
pink sky at night, sailors delight

my mom taught me this on my grandfather's boat as part of my nautical education, along with what the little triangular flags mean and when to blow the ship's horn so the bridge would open in time (along with why we couldn't blow it all the time even though we really, really wanted to). indeed it's been raining all day, as the dawn sky predicted, bone chilling ceaseless icy downpour. but very early when i woke up briefly the rain hadn't started yet - the rising sun made the puffy clouds cotton candy pink and the mist on the water pink too, moving slowly up the river on the incoming tide like a fairy tale or magical dreamscape.

two huge brown birds out there scoping things out. i didn't get to the binoculars in time but one flew right by the house so i got a closer look. sadly the brown booby, though the right size, had to be ruled out since it's a bird of the tropics. and the parasitic jaeger is too small but isn't that also a fabulous name? it's come down to immature bald eagles which are enormous but still all brown, or female or immature male northern harriers - also called marsh hawks - obvious inhabitants for this place but maybe too small. at the moment i'm going with eagles.

my mother also taught me basic meteorology:
rain rain go away
come again some other day
little mary wants to play
outside, outside

blue skies with buffleheads

two teeny tiny birds on the river this morning, flickering in and out of the water. it took me a moment to figure out if they were birds or leaves but then i could see there was something swimming in between dives. first one would blink out of sight, then the other. marty got out the binocs and declared them buffleheads. audubon says they are small, chubby ducks also known as butterballs. chubby duck, chubby baby. i had two of the latter. julia was alternately called chairman mao and alfred hitchcock. sam resembled a basset hound with his many chins;, both of them clearly of the butterball variety.

if there were a field guide to babies the butterball could be identified by its fat dimpled knees yet possessing itsy bitsy toes, sporting hair similar to peach fuzz. the immature butterball is recognizable for its especially delicious kisses and thought to be utterly edible to its parents. butterballs frequently weigh 8 to 10 lbs. at birth and even adult members of this species retain their signature characteristics of optimism, affection and mischief. butterballs can be found in both rural and urban environments and are distinguished by their dolphin-like cooing and raucous belly laughs.

once sighted you definitely won't need binoculars to determine whether the human infant in question is a butterball.

Little Journeys

note: i grew up in grand rapids, michigan, and of the six sibs john is the only one of us who remains true to our birthplace. when i went to visit a couple of years ago he and his wife pam, a kindred spirit, took me to the Fredrick Meijer Gardens & Sculpture Park, created long after i'd grown up and moved away. what a glorious, stunning place, 132 acres of gardens seeded with 160 sculptures, wildly different from the salt marsh but another kind of paradise. i couldn't get enough of it. in response to duck dreams john wrote about their weekly excursions to the gardens. i asked if i could include his words in duck dreams and if he'd write after their outing each week, and he graciously agreed:

Pam and I just returned from our Tuesday night date at Meijer Gardens. They keep adding a few sculptures here and there but the enjoyment comes from walking the park as the seasons slowly change from Tuesday to Tuesday. We took Pam's friend An An from China on a visit a month or so back. It was a beautiful winter’s night with a heavier than normal snow falling on an already deep white ground cover. It was so peaceful and quiet - yet all the sculptures seemed to come alive in the silence and awe of the beauty. Tonight shared a magnificent clear sky, brilliant half moon and a warm spring air. The contrasts are what make our dates so captivating and enjoyable. We will continue to share our little journeys around the park each week. Love, John

snowfall followed by radiance

all gray for most of the day, with light snow coming down for about an hour. now it seems as if that were part of a different day altogether. from here i see a band of dark clouds above the treetops, layered on top with white puffy clouds. but the water is bright blue and the sun is lighting up the river banks, gleaming and golden, coming from the west, over my shoulder.

perhaps yesterday's dreariness was marsh wisdom, some sort of weathery preparation for the morning snow and then this luminous dusk.

here's that rainy day

all is quiet out there, a steady rain falling, it looks really bleak and cold. kind of like it's taking the day off from being ravishing and fascinating, having a rest from all my scrutiny. so i am drawn deeper indoors today. i have many things to look at surrounding me with their beauty. one is a resting buddha. he is seated leaning his head on his hands which gracefully hug the top of his raised knee. this is a pose i had never seen until i came across it in a garden catalogue the year we agreed each of us would get only one Christmas present and it could be whatever you wanted, no exceptions. in my case once i encountered this statue of the buddha on the catalogue page it was crystal clear. i even asked marty to cut it out and frame it for me until christmas arrived.

my acupuncturist ellen had been encouraging me to rest more; i know all of my travels and work in new orleans worried her, with her understandable and appreciated focus on my energy and well-being. i went anyway as often as i could manage but this buddha has brought such ease and joy to my life, pulling me into its completely serene state with contentment and happiness abounding every time i look at it. i also love his long flat ear which takes up almost the whole side of his tilted head, and those long elegant fingers. tranquil and composed he resides on top of the small white dresser across from my bed next to the flowers dayle brought and sarah arranged. so i'm ok with with the marsh taking a break, it's cozy and snug in here.

low tide

marty and dayle saw an eagle today, soaring above the river just out of my line of sight. so they described what they saw in minute detail as the gulls cleared out of the way and it dove into the water and climbed again with something in its talons. i hope it wasn't a duck!

when we first met dayle and elizabeth, 30 years ago, we lived on the same stream, mark west creek in sonoma county. for a time there was a pair of golden eagles who were also neighbors and when one flew overhead it seemed the whole yard went dark, such was their wingspan. we had just gotten a puppy, molly bear, and were advised to keep her inside when they were cruising the hood and stick close to her whenever she went out. we also had 2 young cats, nicholas and alexandra, and not long after these gorgeous, brutal creatures showed up, lexi disappeared. poor nick searched for her for days, calling until he was hoarse.

this is why the hebrew word for awe means both wonder and fear, equally: the eagle today was the first we've seen here since last summer when we arrived; it was thrilling, it felt like a blessing and a good omen. and yet...the way all the other birds scattered when it rolled in, and for whomever it lifted from the river, it meant only terror and death - a vivid reminder of how random fate is and how so, so much is out of an individual's control.

from bed i can see into the living room and out to the river through four of the floor to ceiling windows. from our living room you get the complete panoramic view, through floor to ceiling windows across the the whole back of the house and around on both sides. sometimes i can hang out on the sofa and see nearly everything, or spend a little time in ronny foxy baby, my power chair and see it all. mostly i'm in bed and rely on marty and friends to describe the children on the bridge, the geese around the bend or the first eagle of our tenancy. vicarious sighting. indirect vision. there are many ways to see.

slack tide

two colors in the palette du marsh today, silver water, very still, mirroring the pale gray sky, and monochrome tan riverbanks. there is an entire tree stranded out there, long stripped bare, mostly under water right now, with little branches poking up like a neat row of garden stakes. drift wood. summers on lake michigan we collected it, burned it in bonfires on the beach under the stars, hauled it up to the cottage as lawn sculpture. if you were lucky and had a good eye you might find a small, smooth bird or ship or grasshopper to bring inside for the mantle or windowsill, and rub with your hands and face, unique pleasures.

driftwood may weigh a lot when it first washes up, but when dried out be light as a balsa glider. even after something dies, in this case a tree, and can no longer grow or bear fruit or turn CO2 into oxygen, it can nevertheless transform and persist, in different forms, with new uses and beauty, tangible and otherwise, still full of surprises.

high tide

the sun is shining and windows are open wide. the river is blue with several army green patches. when we were kids our mom bought us an army surplus tent and set it up on the beach at our cottage. it got extremely hot inside but my sister terry and i went in as much as we could stand, it was our fort on the shores of lake michigan. we strove to keep brother john out (am sorry for this now john but back then banning you and all others was part of its appeal) where we played for endless, boiling canvas smelling hours with our lennon sister paper dolls, fighting over who got to be janet but otherwise united in our exclusivity. marty and i are watching american idol for the first time this season; i wonder if little girls these days have crystal or didi, siobhan or paige paper dolls or "barbies"? the only thing i didn't like about the lennon sisters was that you had to watch the lawrence welk show to see them, and that was never cool, even then.

our best beloved friend dayle is here all the way from california and daughter sarah now in nyc comes tomorrow. sarah could be a stand up comic, few people make me laugh like she does. she used to direct a morning talk show where she had to rent elephants (Q: how do you find rental elephants? A: the internet) and host a water skiing squirrel, which is just as complicated and ridiculous as it sounds. we have been best friends since sarah was 2, and being with dayle is like having one of the ground notes back in our raga.