Sunday, August 30, 2015

Darn that Blue Spruce is Big

This is the Blue Spruce we planted at our home 45-50 years ago.  When we put in our sewer line, the line went through the roots on one side of the tree, and consequently it leaned for a while.  However it seems to have straitened nicely.  It is now over running the yard at our old house as well as the neighbors.  When we lived there there wasn't a fence dividing the properties in front, it started level with the front of the house.  I haven't lived in this house since marrying in 1983.  My mom sold it to my sister in about 1985 and moved to a condo in Logan.  My sister subsequently sold the house and they moved to Idaho.  The circular driveway use to be more complete, but it did extend beyond the property line and was cut back for sewer lines as well.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Poetry I Like: Above Bear Lake by May Swenson

Above Bear Lake by May Swenson

Sky and lake the same blue,
and blue the languid mountain between them.
Cloud fluffs make the scene flow.
Greeny white pools of aspen snake up,
graven with welts and calluses where branches
dried and broke. Other scabs are lover-made:
Initials dug within linked hearts and, higher
some jackknifed peace signs.
A breeze, and the filtered light makes shine
a million bristling quills of spruce and fir
downslope, where slashes of sky and lake
hang blue—windows of intense stain. We take
the rim trail, crushing bloom of sage,
sniffing resinous wind, our boots in the wild, 
small, everycolored Rocky Mountain flowers.
Suddenly, a steep drop-off: below we see the whole, 
the whale of it—deep, enormous blue—
that widens, while the sky slants back to pale 
behind a watercolored mountain.
Western Tanager – we call him “Fireface: - 
darts ahead, we climb to our camp
as the sun slips lower. Clipped to the top
of the tallest fir, Olive-sided Flycatcher,
over and over, fierce-whistles, “Whip!
Whip three bears! Whip, whip three bears!”
This poem is presented at the Bear Lake Overlook tourist information center.  This is my view of the lake from the overlook early in the morning.  

For a view of some of the flowers that morning look here.  This poetry really paints a picture in my mind.  I am not as familiar with birds, and didn't hear any bird song the morning we were there.