"In the night...the scream of the rabbit is terrible. But the scream of the owl which is not of pain and hopelessness and fear of being plucked out the world, but of the sheer rollicking glory of the death-bringer, is more terrible still. When I hear it resounding through the woods, and then the five black pellets of its song dropping like stones into the air, I know I am standing on the edge of the mystery, in which terror is naturally and abundantly part of life, part of even the most becalmed, intelligent, sunny life--as for example, my own. The world where the owl is endlessly hungry and endlessly on the hunt is the world in which I live, too. There is only one world."
Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures
Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Sunday, August 26, 2018
We spent the weekend at the cottage in Lanesboro and arrived home to Oakwood in mid-afternoon. I went down the the garden and sat for a while to hopefully take some photos of migrating warblers. There was not of a much of variety nor quantity of birds, but here are a few of today's shots.
Not much. I do what I can. - Gunnar
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
Wednesday, August 15, 2018
The Fall migration of Warblers arrived over the night and spent the late morning resting and splashing in our little creek. There were mostly Blackburnians and Chestnut-sided with a scattering of Canadas and Black & Whites. Mostly Warbler photos with a couple of others thrown in for a little variety.
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Dor was 94, the last of her generation. In 1972, within months of each other, both of Dor's sisters, Edna Jensen and Florence Hanson, died of breast cancer. In many ways Dor became like a mother to the adult children of those women, as well as her own. Her husband Bud died 11 years ago. Today we buried their ashes together under the grass of the Clarks Grove cemetery.
Dor was pretty computer savvy. In 2010 she copied, printed and saved this blog posting. It was tacked to a bulletin board along with various photos on a memory board at the funeral home.
Ad has had Dorothy for as long as she can remember. Dorothy was named after the maker, her mother's Aunt Dorothy, the last living grandma of the generation. At the time Dorothy was made where were a series of marketing driven teddy bears called Care Bears. Dorothy Bear was loosely based on these. Among the other stuffed toys, Ad was given a couple of the factory Care Bears. They were okay I guess, but they were not real, and so went up on a shelf in the closet. Dorothy never went on a shelf. She shared Ad's bed and comforted her on long nights. Over the years Dorothy became worn from too much love. The felt hearts wore off, the eyes fell off and her fur became noticeably thin. Eventually the eyes were replaced, she got a little additional stuffing and Dorothy got a felt heart transplant. Ad took Dorothy along to college and then to her apartment in Minneapolis after she graduated.
Ashes To Ashes, Dust to Dust - Gunnar
Monday, August 6, 2018
Sunday 8/5/2018. The progeny of Harry and Adena Nelson:
Lorna, her cousins, their husbands and wives, having a potluck at the home of Fritz and Margaret Jensen Sunday.
Photos by Bob Nelson? Or Patti? Anyway someone sent them to me via a text message, and there does not seem to be any including Bob or Patti.
Family? Those people who will loan you money if you really need it, with the knowledge that they will probably never be repaid.