For the last two years I have been working off and on in this garden. It is still a work in progress. One of the best things about this garden is the little pond we installed. It is designed to appear as if it extends under the low deck, or as if the deck is cantilevered over the pond. It brings the sound of running water, and the sights of fishes flashing in the shadows right up to where people are sitting on the deck.
If you are considering building a garden pond, planning is super important -- location, location location! You can go to alot of trouble and expense to build a pond, and if it is off in an unused corner of your back yard, or right next to the front door (when you never hang out there) you won't be able to enjoyt the benefits of the pond as often as if you locate it close to your favorite hangout. In this case, that meant close to the deck and patio.
Koi, originally uploaded by Dean in the Flickr Ponds group. Check out the pool of pond photos -- lots of inspiration there.
Last night, just moments before the sun went behind the ridge, I stopped along Prickly Pear Creek just a little south of East Helena. There, the creek runs between two ridges and has been used and abused for years, by locals who toss beer cans and garbage in the gulch,and by hunters who discard elk and deer carcasses after taking what meat and trophy parts they want to keep.
I had driven by this creek numerous times, though I hadn't stopped until now. I had Sam with me and we both wanted to get out someplace new. So, this is where we ended up. I had to keep Sam on a leash for this walk - if I hadn't, he would have availed himself of the opportunity to douse with that special fragrance loved by dogs -- "Eau de Carcasse." There were at least 30 carcasses along the stretch of water we walked. Eeeuwww!
I had my camera with me, of course. The light was fading fast and I knew I had to hurry to catch it before nightfall. As I looked around for something that appealed to me -- a scene or detail I might want to shoot, I thought about what many people have told me when they see my photographs of Montana -- that I must live in Paradise, that Montana is so beautiful, pristine, that they want to visit here, to see what (I) see.
Yet here I was, scanning this trashed-out, dumping place for some little detail to photograph. It was worse than a garbage dump. This creek with its sad parking spots, its lovers' lane, its game carcasses strewn in the bushes ... this damaged wetland was a stark testimonial of how little we humans care for the earth.
In anger, I almost turned right around to leave. But something in the water caught my eye. A beaver dam, breached in the middle, icy willow branches bravely stacked against the winter, against the beavers' predators. The little dam was something I needed to see last night - it was a glimmer of optimism, of hope, in this trashed out riverbottom.
I sat for a few minutes, just feet from the large ribcage of an elk. I scolded Sam for being too interested in the bones. He put his head on his paws and watched me shoot -- quickly -- as the light changed and the water shape-shifted.
I wanted to redeem my species somehow, to reach back in time, find the memory of who this little dancing creek had once been, before the cement plant started polluting the waters, before people started using the valley as an unofficial dump and drinking place ... I wanted to catch the narrow slice of sky reflected in Prickly Pear Creek. I wanted to remember, with my mind's eye and my camera, the way graceful branches danced with the current.
I tossed a stone just upstream of the beaver dam. I clicked and clicked the camera shutter until I could see only the beauty of water, of evening, of a beaver's industry and natural design ...
until I could see only the deep blue sky and black branches and golden light swimming in blue night rippling
This is how to see the place where you belong. This is how to love the places you spend your days and nights. Look under the surface love the beauty you find there no matter where you are.
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Singing Land Your burning skies are never-ending Across your red brush plains Out where the dingo still is king and eternity remains There between the old and ancient there's an oasis bright Your gentle children who have gone are close to me tonight
In your singing land, in your singing land Shine on, oh shine on over me
There's a feeling still and eerie, there's a feeling strong The path humanity has come and the path that he has gone Me I am I am just passing three score years and ten And I'm just a stranger who may never come this way again
In your singing land, in your singing land Shine on, oh shine on over me
Under the spell of caterpillar dreaming New life shapes its form Along the river's naked banks That are straining for the storm Oh sacred rock, in thunder ocean The tree of man grows clear The woodlarks sing, the brolgas dance and Dawn is slipping near -- song by Dougie MacLean
I have put together an audio/visual experience for you in this little slideshow with Dougie Maclean's song (above) To listen and watch the slideshow, click the arrow in the center of the screen below:
Posted for Poetry Thursday's totally optional prompt for this week, which I am totally ignoring. As usual. ;-D or check out the other poetry posts for this week by clicking this button:
I posted the first bunch of photos in this set, Love the Place You're with, last winter ... this winter I went back to the same place to see if I had a similar response to the place and I did. It has imprinted itself in me. It has become a numinous thing for me. It has become the kind of place that shows up in my dreams.
Hi friends and family, here is my monthly offering to readers of my blog, this calendar which you are welcome to download, print, use however you want to. Click on the photo for a larger version. It looks best printed out at 8"x10" size on heavy weight matte photo paper, but any paper will do.
I'm always curious if anyone is actually using these calendars, so if you do, please leave me a comment. (that's optional as always, though). And for sure ... enjoy it!
