A Touch of Autumn, Reminders of Impermanance

Autumn's Touch © 2013 Bo Mackison

Autumn’s Touch © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Nothing in the world is permanent, and we’re foolish when we ask anything to last,
but surely we’re still more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it.” ~ W. Somerset Maugham

A dozen geese, in formation, fly over my back porch as I stand watching traces of sunlight shimmer through the rainclouds. They are so near I can see the layering of their feathers, their muscles flexing, hear the whirr-whirr of their wings in synchronous flight.

I am on my porch, a screened affair, three sides visually open to the back yard, the gardens and trees. The skies, blue earlier, are now gray and threatening. A path meanders along the back of the garden and through the neighborhood. There are occasional lamp posts – Narnia style – to light the way at night. The lamp flickers on mid-morning, gradually emitting a soft glow.

There is a glider on the porch and a side table. I sit there for thinking time, quiet time, connecting time. Often I light the candle on the table – its flame a reminder of the light in the world, the energy contained in the small flame, useful in containment, but enlivened fury when out of control. I think about self-direction and discipline.

There is a round table and two chairs opposite the glider. I set up a work station on the table. It doubles as office during the day, dining nook on warm summer evenings. I have assembled piles of journals, books, a pad of notes, my computer. My Miro coffee cup.

Tucker, the Writing Companion Cat © 2013 Bo Mackison

Tucker, the Writing Companion Cat © 2013 Bo Mackison

There is a cat. He alternately snoozes in the comfy space behind my open computer screen and peeks around at the monitor’s ever changing screen, ready to attack the cursor as it moves. He prowls the edges of the porch, on the look out for baby rabbits who recently ventured from their underground nest, a late brood.When he can’t pounce on his preferred furry targets, he slinks along the polished floor, and substitutes my toes for target practice. A cat is distraction, entertainment. I consider coaxing him into the house with catnip treats, but I like his company, and his cat sense of humor.

There is an approaching storm. Thunder rolls, rain plops in spattery drops on large-leafed hosta in the north garden. Leaves sprawled in disarray, as if an elephant used the plants as his foot path. Bright green only a week ago, today they are a green-gray, wrinkled and yellow-tipped. Touched by autumn’s early breath, they quickly aged.

There is the work I’ve just begun. A writing project with an encroaching due date. But the rain is blowing, the thunder fiercer as it approaches with a slow rumble. The cat has gone inside to hide under the couch, waiting for me to pack up my papers and books, my journals and computer, and come join him in the softly lit study.

There I am warmer, it is a much quieter space. Not nearly as evocative for story-imagining, dreaming, nature-study. The cat watches from under his protective furniture, his golden eyes aglow. I re-settle. It is a good day to write, wherever I find my space.

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Bo Mackison is artist, photographer, book-maker, naturalist, poet, curator, and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. It is a good day for writing projects, accompanied by rainfall, whispering trees, and a jumpy cat.

In the Desert – A Journal Writing Discovery

Florals and Cactus

Desert Marigold © 2011 Bo Mackison

The spring flowers are showing a few blossoms. It’s been a quiet season for spring flowers–first there wasn’t enough moisture last autumn and winter and then there was a hard freeze in late January. So these are the first of the flowers I’ve seen. I’ve tentatively identified them as Desert Marigolds. The background is a saguaro cactus.

Now that I’ve been in Arizona a month, I am slowing down my pace a bit. At first, everything I saw was new to me and I carried my camera everywhere. I took hundreds of photos a day. That’s not unusual for me to take that many photos on a shoot, but it’s hard to process that many shots when I’m doing it every day. Plus it makes life too hectic. Still,  I want to capture as much of this experience as I can.

I’ve discovered a solution. I add a half hour of quiet observation and nature writing to my day. Today after I took photographs near Saguaro National Park, I pulled into a picnic area that was quite deserted. The picnic sites were built by the CCC in the 1930s; the tables and benches were made of stone and concrete, probably the sturdiest picnic site I’ve ever seen.

I sat on one of the benches and just watched and listened. After awhile I wrote some notes in my journal.

Noon. 84˚F. Sus Picnic Area, Saguaro National Park, Tucson Mountain Unit west of the city.

Bright blue skies, no clouds, slight breeze. Hawks are circling the tops of the mountains, flying from peak to peak. They don’t appear to be hunting, even though they are on the look out for movement in the desert below them. Indeed, it looks like they are riding the wind currents, more like play than work. Dipping, soaring, then they flap their wings, strong strokes. Then they dip, soar, repeat.

I recognize none of the sounds I hear, except, of course, the wind whistling. There’s a persistent yip yip yipping. Occasionally a chee-chee-cheerup-ing. Birds are singing, but they hide in the underbrush. I don’t see any movement on the desert floor. Nothing. Quiet mid-day. The critters are resting, hidden from the heat and the strong sunlight.

More hawks. I recognize the red tailed hawk. Still soaring, except now they are dipping side to side. Several are soaring from the peak of the highest mountain. They dip to the left, glide, dip to the right. Swoosh, right. Swoosh, left. Are they playing? Practicing? Are they hunting and have yet to spy anything interesting?

Maybe they are taking Sunday afternoon off. Ha! It is a lovely Sunday afternoon to appreciate the quiet time.

I myself soar to different places in my mind.

It is a calming activity–this sitting quietly, observing, taking a few notes. I know I look at my surrounding more carefully when I have my camera in my hands, but the camera captures the scenes for me, wordlessly. It is an added plus to document a few words about the places I visit, too. It makes me think about what I am seeing in a new way, and adds another dimension to my discoveries.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is living in Tucson for two months, exhibiting her photography in art shows, taking photographs, and blogging about photography, art fairs, and living life “solo.”  Today she is grateful for all the gifts she has received this past month.