Harvest at the Farmers Market – A Sunday Series

Peppers of All Kinds at the Dane County Farmers Market

Peppers of All Kinds © 2012 Bo Mackison

“As autumn returns to earth’s northern hemisphere,
and day and night are briefly,
but perfectly,
balanced at the equinox,
may we remember anew how fragile life is —-
human life, surely,
but also the lives of all other creatures,
trees and plants,
waters and winds. (cont.)

Heirloom Tomatoes

Heirloom Tomatoes © 2012 Bo Mackison

May we make wise choices in how and what we harvest,
may earth’s weather turn kinder,
may there be enough food for all creatures,
may the diminishing light in our daytime skies
be met by an increasing compassion and tolerance
in our hearts.” ~ Kathleen Jenks

White Mushrooms

White Mushrooms © 2012 Bo Mackison

Shall I not have intelligence with the earth?
Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself.
~ Henry David Thoreau

Many Colors of Peppers

Many Peppers © 2012 Bo Mackison

“I trust in Nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility.
Spring shall plant and Autumn garner to the ends of time.”
~ Robert Browning

Cartons of Tomatoes

Cartons of Tomatoes © 2012 Bo Mackison

It’s difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.
~ Lewis Grizzard

Bunches and Bunches of Radishes

Bunches of Radishes © 2012 Bo Mackison

“The trouble with simple living is that, though it can be joyful, rich, and creative, it isn’t simple.”
~ Doris Janzen Longacre

What better way to say goodbye to summer and hello to autumn than to stroll around the Farmers’ Market, gathering peppers and potatoes, pumpkins and squash in our string bags, tucking bags of squeaky cheese curds and a jar of freshly pickled relish in our pockets, greeting the farmers we’ve been visiting all summer while they tell us of tonight’s weather prediction – a hard frost in the low lying regions.

We bought a huge bunch of flowers after we heard the forecast for a hard freeze. If it gets that cold, there will be no more fresh flowers at any of the vendors’ stalls next week.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is celebrating the autumn equinox by giving thanks for the bountiful harvest and setting her table with a bouquet of some of the last garden flowers of the year.

A Prairie Gift – Black Eyed Susans

Black Eyed Susans

Black Eyed Susans © 2012 Bo Mackison

“Each step we take creates a cool breeze, refreshing our body and mind.
Every step makes a flower bloom under our feet.” ~ Thich Nhat Hahn

Each morning I walk. Each morning a part of my walk is walking with meditation. I don’t do it long, only 5 minutes or so. I usually do it at the beginning of my walk, when I am still on sidewalks and have not yet reached the  pond destination or the prairie destination. I do it to prepare myself for the day, to open my senses for what I will be seeing, hearing, touching, tasting and speaking in the hours to come. To prepare a space for the new to assemble next to the old. To focus on the present.

As I walk for those first few minutes, camera silent, hurried mind slowed, I find it helpful to breathe in and out slowly. And every few steps as I inhale, I say, “Imperfect…” and as I exhale I say, “I am enough.”

And then, in my mind’s eye, a flower blooms under my feet!

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Walking, Bo first slows down, offers gratitude, and then does a brief walking meditation. Then she is ready to take off the lens cover and begin taking photos.

Still, There are Blossoms

Aromatic Asters

Prairie Color in Asters © 2012 Bo Mackison

“What is seen by the eye is transformed and colored by the vision of the mind.” ~ Robert Wade

These asters are my favorite of all the asters. Not delicate and petite, but rather “in your face” and frazzled, full of the spirit that they require as one of the last flowering prairie plants of the autumn. They can manage a bit of stress, too. They can survive a mild frost easy enough, though once a hard frost hits, the prairie fades from golden and russet to deeper shades of brown. The flowers’ pale, shrivel, and drop upon the prairie earth.

So when I walk in the prairie as the season turns (officially) from summer to autumn, I always check on how the spirited, aromatic asters are doing. I smile at the bits of color left in the prairie, those blossoms of bright purple.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Walking in the prairie is a walk for the senses and a balm for the depleted soul.

Lands that I Love

Late Autumn in the Prairie - Hidden Colors

Hidden Colors in the Prairie © 2012 Bo Mackison

A passion builds inside anyone who spends time on the prairie. ~ D. Showalter

In the winter, I spend my time in the Southwest and often wander the open spaces of the desert. It felt like home, the desert stretching as far as I could see, the first time I stood in the desert’s midst, turning in a circle, looking at the diversity, at the low clumping grasses, the bursts of yellow wildflowers, standing in the thick ground vegetation where I had perhaps expected sandbox sand.

It was a surprise to me. Why would I have such a thrilling connection to this secret land, land many people describe as desolate, and yet I could see nothing but wonder. This was not a land of my desolation.  A land of little water, yes, and of grand schemes for plant conservation, but wherever I looked there were compact surprises of the natural sort.

And now, in this last week of summer, where the touch of autumn rests heavily in the niches of Wisconsin, I notice similarities of the prairie and the desert.

The tallgrass prairie stretches far, blocks my view with its six-foot tall grasses and flower stalks, and I imagine it stretching for miles. Imagine I must, for most of the prairie has been swept clean, readied a century ago by the tractor’s plow, for corn and soybeans.  And now the neighboring land waits for winter covered with a different type of remnant, the sheared rows of cornstalks.

So I keep my eyes focused on the prairie spaces, on the swaying grasses, the sudden stalks of flowers dancing above my head, the prairie flowers twisting, wending their way, forcing their way ever skyward. Grasses and flowers with pioneer names – calico asters, switch grass, prairie cord grass, needle grass, cup-plant, compass plant.

In autumn, these prairie spaces have a certain look, the familiar is so similar to the arid desert grasslands.

Prairie in the autumn. Desert in the winter.

Lands that I love.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Another day traipsing paths through prairie – her muse for both photography and words.

Waiting for Silence

Prairie Rosinweed

Prairie Rosinweed © 2012 Bo Mackison

Waiting for Silence – A Poem

i listen
for the noise of daily life to subside;
for the voices in my head to quiet;
for the busyness of business to halt.

slowly i discover

silence is not…

absence

nothingness

absolute

Sun Salutation with Black Eyed Susans

Sun Salutation © 2012 Bo Mackison

silence is…

presence

cosmos

completion.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and the owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She takes photos constantly, and shares them daily. She writes poetry often, but shares it infrequently. Today she is on her way to the prairie again – her muse for both photography and words.