The Nature of Things

No otters and no snow here but I can remember well living in places where there were both and I remember enjoying seeing otters playing in the water of a lake. That's why this poem spoke to me when I came across it in my search for a poem to feature this week. And so, here it is. I hope you enjoy it.  Midnight Snow by James Crew Outside in the creek that feeds the lake and never freezes, an otter slaps the water with his paw to feel the current's pulse— Slip in, lie back. Slip in, lie back.  He shuts his eyes and obeys, knowing the layers of hair and underfur will warm him while he floats on a faith we wish could carry us.   The sound of his splashing fades, but not his joy in being pushed, light as driftwood, back to the mouth of the den I have seen carved out beneath the roots of a fallen fir now packed with snow and lined with leaves that promise his sleep will be deep.   Because no dreams wait softly for me, I open the woodstove and strike a match, hold the bloom...

  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : The American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week is the seven-colored Painted Bunting . Happily, this is a species that is still maintaining its population throughout its range which includes the southern tier of the United States and northern Mexico. Its greatest threats are being trapped for the illegal pet trade and, as for many other species, habitat loss. Despite its bright colors, the birds (especially the males) are difficult to see because they are very secretive and often hide in dense thickets and grasses. *~*~*~* Research reveals that predators like alligators are our allies in protecting and preserving their habitats. *~*~*~* It seems that melting ICE might have benefits for the natural environment as well as the human environment. *~*~*~* Surveys of the overwintering population of Monarch butterflies in the West show a slight increase from last winter, but the numbers are still extremely low. *~*~*~* ...

  The space shuttle Challenger exploded forty years ago today taking the lives of these seven people. Those of us who witnessed it will never forget.

  A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment : As Earth warms, how will penguins, evolved to live in a world of snow and ice, survive? Can they adjust fast enough to meet the new conditions ? These Chinstraps are among the species most affected by the changing conditions.  *~*~*~* Here's the sad list of species that we lost in 2025. *~*~*~* According to a new United Nations report, the world has entered an era of global water bankruptcy which has irreversible consequences. *~*~*~* A plant called the black-bulb yam tricks birds into spreading its seeds by producing fake berries that are actually small clones of itself.  *~*~*~* A Mayan heritage site is under threat from a logging concession that has been granted to a furniture company.  *~*~*~* A 67,800-year-old stencil of a hand found on the wall of an Indonesian cave may be the world's oldest rock art. *~*~*~* In 2025, researchers at the National Museum of Natural History described a previously u...

We have out-of-town guests arriving today and that will necessitate my absence from these pages for the next few days. But don't forget about me! Keep checking back for I shall return, hopefully sometime next week. And thank you to all my faithful readers. You are appreciated more than I can possibly say. *~*~*~*                                                                

I grew up in a time and place that featured pretty cold winters. It was not unusual for the temperatures to dip into the teens (Fahrenheit) or even lower and stay there for days at a time. Our house had two fireplaces and the kitchen stove that all burned wood. My father would rise before daylight, even on Sundays, and get the fires started in each of them. By the time I got up, the house would be warm. I never thanked him. I never thought anything about it. It was just what he did. He was my father. I do think about it, and him, now and I regret how thoughtless and thankless I was. But what did I know then of love's austere and lonely offices? Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold splintering,  breaking. When  the rooms were warm, he’d call, and slowly ...