Earth force 2017

Both Sparkle and the thinning fog led me outside for a morning walk today. It was one of the times she knew where she wanted to go when heading straight down the street towards what was the field. It's a spot I'm surprised she returns to and at times won't budge until I okay going further in. Nearly nothing remains of Ford Pasture. Certainly no stretches of grass fields are to be seen, trees have been cleared minus about ten scattered throughout, and the old buildings and structures gone. Well, all except the silo pair. For a space that no longer contains her scent markings, it must attract her for other dog reasons.

I had both my cell and DSLR which is rare these days, but I wanted to stay open to seeing shots with both.  It felt good to be walking our walk with gear in hand, on our route, in our old rhythm.  Even though we're stepping into the absence of what we used to enjoy out there, the possibility of appreciating something new helps in redefining the space.


The new paved road stops a distance from the silos, and the mud from last night's rain didn't let us get closer. There was also soil run off on the pavement which had us slipping around a bit but not to the point of falling.  As I looked down more often, I saw more clearly the earth forms of wet soil created on the road. Reaching tree limb and root shapes told stories of the draining waters and soil forces. This is their nature to seek destination depending on the grade of the land and availability of open earth and grasses. The more concrete and pavement coverage, the less places water has to go. I like that some of that journey is told in these natural designs.

As we exited into Sweetbriar Road, we pass the old tree at the corner which still has a few arched branches. One of its large branches was lost during construction and clearing, and what remains reminds me of its original form. It stands over the section of the entry road work which holds sitting water, debris and leaves. When the wind blew shaking the limbs, water drops fell into the reflecting pool of textures.

Feeling pretty good and complete about the session, there was still one more thing to see. A small green vertical sprout growing at the end of a broken branch caught my eye. Either the branch is playing host to a plant which found its way via a seed or bird droppings, or it the tree is reminding us that it still has life and determination. Either way, I love the lesson in it about keeping your eyes and mind open in order to see both strength and fragility around you.


Thank you, Aina, field spirit, for the gifts shared and an extra little boost to begin 2017.

#fordpasture #aina

The Ford trees squared

I finally finished my Instagram square of Ford Pasture tree photos.  Not one of these scenes remains, but are some of my favorites to remember and appreciate.

https://www.instagram.com/katowoman

I really, really liked this space - Ford Pasture

Today Sparkle rerouted during our morning walk to enter the field at the end of Sweetbriar through the fence.  As we approached, I heard the rumble of machinery.  It's Sunday morning around 8, construction equipment on the move, and your gut tells you that it's not for a good reason.

Turning towards the gate, through the brush at the end of the T, there is a small bulldozer pushing through the line of trees and overgrowth clearing the way.  I wondered which trees still stood beyond the fence, and as I went through, most checked in standing except for the sole tree in the distance which usually greeted me at the passage into the back field.

It lay there, root ball exposed and one of it's branched pointing upwards towards the sky, as the bulldozer moved near continuing to clear the line.  I hated that crackling sound, absolutely hated it.

We walked away from there and through the loop towards the east.  My anger gave way to sadness and the realization that this this space was in its final phase of existence.  It had been in the waiting for a handful of years, but today was the day that marked the reality of its destruction.  I felt it in my heart and cried.

I really, really liked this field, this Ford Pasture.

Its quiet was soothing and healing.
Its beauty really a gift and reminder of good things, big and small.
The trees had always been good storytellers of their many days.
The light.  I learned and loved its light.
I liked its magic and surprises.
Companion spirit, Hawk.  I wonder if he is feeling the loss, too.

I smile, though, remembering the man from Hawaii I met at a teacher conference a couple years ago. He taught me the word, 'Aina', the spirit of the land, when he heard me describe Ford Pasture.  He said that Hawaiians believe that the ancestors of a place speak to you through the land.  It carries time, history, and meaning.  I know that there are many people who have their own memories and appreciation of this space over the years.

Aina.

How fortunate to have had this special place to go.

            







          



*I wasn't going to include any photos of the clearing, and was initially only moved to review photos I had shared in this blog and in my archives.

This post made on October 18, 2011 includes the tree I speak of, as well as beginning indications that I would continue to visit the field.

To the tree
http://irenekatophotos.blogspot.com/2011/10/to-tree.html

All bog posts and photos of Ford Pasture
http://irenekatophotos.blogspot.com/search/label/Ford%20farm

             

From Timeline Photos

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Not alone

The fog drew me out to the field for a session with the trees on the leading edge of the field.

It was very quiet, with just the distant highway 10 rumble, hanging in the background.

Then a little, sweet song, volume high, permeated the space and trees.  So lovely a reminder that you're not alone.  As I enjoyed the beauty and calm of the scene, the little bird was there, too, appreciating his high perch and position to send out a message.

On my way home, these fuscia Japanese magnolia blooms slowed me down for a pretty look.  How thrilled I was by the background in green and the lens effects with the wet green.

Presence

Back at the field's edge this morning, the sun didn't show itself right away because of cloud cover. When it finally burst through, much later than yesterday, this set of trees once again stood out in the space. I felt as if the larger tree and I were aware of each other's presence, which made me smile. Its extended branches took on the appearance of arms wide open, raised towards the sky.

Fog is expected for tomorrow morning, too. It's been a good week for morning peace and inspiration!

The gift of an hour

Down the street, the sunrise calls 

I'm still recovering from being sick for two weeks through Thanksgiving break and beyond. With just a remnant cough, tender throat, and headache now and then, I think I'm making it.  During that stretch of time, my morning and daily habits changed towards self-care and away from caffeine and device overconsumption.  Instead of starting the day with two cups of coffee and jumping on the screen, I now enjoy hot lemon water with honey in a lovely ceramic Japanese tea cup.  The biggest bonus is drinking it in quiet and not rushing onto my computer and phone to kick into my daily dose of screen time. I'm giving myself one hour before I engage with other than what is within and around me. I'm surprised by how much I've missed and what I'm able to appreciate and cultivate in that one hour.

I have made it part of my morning routine in the past to step under our Live Oak in the front yard and peek down the street to see what's happening in the field. In my more aware and present state this morning, and yesterday's, too, I smiled big when viewing the low fog sitting in the field with an emerging orange glow in the backdrop. It was so lovely to take a walk for a closer view. I remembered from last year at this time that the sun rises in just the right spot for me to see it peeking through and over the tree line. It's an exciting moment to see if you've made it on time to wait for the rise instead of arriving in the midst. Either way, she's a beauty in her bright and intense orange glow as the field mist waits to come alive in her light.

From the field's edge, I watched and wow'd, as she rose and illuminated the space. I moved with her to experience the different views and creations of shadow, light and mist. Yes, I still get upset when I see that clearing has occurred during construction phases, but they've done a good job keeping a few young trees and removing overgrowth of weeds and plants. Tree curves stood out and were flattered by the light, casting shadows across the dewy grass. The old farm building is more clearly viewed, and it became part of the landscape story, too.

Thank you, one hour of time, for challenging me to improve my ways to appreciate and be present.  It's much better to enter the world in peaceful ways. Grateful.

Good medicine

As seen this morning after dropping off my daughter at school.  I took a quick shot from my car window after slowing down for a healthy dose of these Live Oaks.

The collection of photos below were taken during a walk through the Ford property before arriving home.  So fortunate.  :))

A healing space that knows

I peeked down my street this morning into the field space blocks away to find a mist waiting to rise with the sun.  Scooted around getting on my another layer of clothes with my all time favorite 18 year old Ecuadorian El Paca wool sweater on top.  Once this sweater comes out for its season intro, I reconnect to a strong spirit inside from years back, and it always makes me smile.  Jumped on my bike right after packing my husband's iPhone6 for the ride to the field.  Without a working camera these days, I've been in a different zone of seeing and appreciating life.  Today I really wanted it with me to keep the door of light exploration open.

Making a last moment decision, I made a left into the new development to get the whole field view instead of riding into the back field.  The mist already glowed with orange water crystals, and I knew that it would soon be gone.  Once arriving at the turn facing the open space of gold, I left my bike in the dried 'creek' bed and freed myself to walk around.

I immediately noticed that some work had been done clearing brush and young trees, and I scanned the area to see which familiar and welcoming landmarks of the past were gone.  I was relieved to see the old corner oak still watching over the span, and the "Goddess" trees remained by its side.  Without the overgrown areas, trees stood taller together and they welcomed the sun and broke the light into shadows and joy.

This was the second weekend that I had visited since I started a new teaching job 11 days ago.  It is so wearing on my spirit, and my feelings of inadequacies in meeting the needs of the teens overwhelm me.  Saturday helped me begin to recover and regain self, and this morning it was an automatic to seek the company of peace.  I feel safe in this space, as if it knows why I seek a visit.  Possibly in a way I'm its companion, too, as I've watched it change and redefine itself over the past few years.

Thank you, Aina, "spirit of the land", for what you share.




PS - I'm amazed with the quality of these iPhone6 images.  Untouched except for cropping.  :))))  Upgrading from my non-smart phone may just be what I do while I save for a pro body.

Find your way

I welcomed the return to the familiar space of the farm fields during a walk home at the end of the work week.  I didn't expect to step into the same as I had left it, probably months earlier, and things changed because of the continued construction.  What was a tunnel of tall green trees, now lay only covered from one side with the other bare and open.  Natural landmarks disappeared into the twine and tangle of thorny bush and overgrowth.  I was still able to sense my old path, yet it felt like something unknown and unexplored.  A fallen tree still remained and its large exposed roots and trunk guided me to opening edge of the vegetation.  I anticipated stepping into the more open back field, and when I finally made my way and looked toward the sun, it filtered through a lovely gathering of branches and leaves.  Almost like coming up for air and releasing myself, I pulled myself through and out, and into the clear.

Know and follow you instincts...

Contemplate

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature -- the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.” - Rachel Carson

Through the secret garden and farm fields

I treated myself today and walked home through the 'secret gardent' and farm property after work.  The air was cool and refreshing, and the sky a vibrant bright blue.  I only had my cell with me, and while going past familiar spots I smiled knowing that if I had my DSLR I surely would have settled in for closer looks.  I did take a few, and when going through the set I was surprised to find this one.  It must have been taken without me knowing as I was in motion putting my phone away.  This curving effect has happened before, but never to this extreme.  I'd so love to duplicate the method and consciously decide which objects to include in the frame.  It could be lots of fun.

Womb

I loved this surprise when peeking into the hole found at the silo base.  I took a few photos with my cell that morning, but like this one the best because of the placement of my shadow over the hole and the small teardrop of light within.  The title, 'Womb', didn't come to me until seeing the image on the computer screen.

This was my first day back walking on my own out there since the beginning of October.  I intended to walk just to reconnect with the space and enjoy some alone time, so I had left my DSLR at home.  My cell phone shots end up having a bit of a dreamy quality to them after processing and I find that fitting for this set.


Here are a few more from that morning.  The area by the silos had been cleared a bit, so I was better able to see the 'tracking' of the previous working area.  It will be interesting to do a bit of research on old machinery to better understand how things used to function.

Morning blue

From inside the fallen tree in the farm field, I sat on the limbs to watch sunrise.  Just last January the same beautiful tree stood tall and inspired 'The Gift' and in March 'Glory'.  How surreal to be with its remains left behind by the developers as if there was still something to be shared and shown.  Being on my own out there allowed me to really settle in, be still, and look.  From going in close to the the droplets and pulling out to seeing the whole, each image is part of the story that morning and a reminder of what was.

 

Let yourself fall in love again

Morning work on road where the tall trees once stood

A recent realization that all of the old and tall beautiful trees I've photographed on the Ford property left me feeling a strange sense of suspension.  Something incomplete in their documentation and appreciation.  As I stood there on the edge of the new road now taking their place there's an emptiness to the sky and a feeling of disorientation.  Is this really the place I spent my mornings walking for the past year or so?  I suppose the loss takes me back to my "Redefine" post once again in which I realize that there is now space to see something new.  Discover a new path and perspective with what I have in front of me.  Do I really want to 'fall in love' with another tree, another spot, another place to be during my quiet morning moments while walking?  Possibly if I don't look at the beauty as long term and appreciate the gift in the moment to fully soak it up I'll be ready to let it go each day.  When it comes time for another tree to be knocked down, for another place to be to change, maybe the loss won't be so striking to me as the others were.

Here is the tree and location as seen this morning.  I've walked by it, but because it is nestled in the far corner from the others I've photographed, I never spent time near it.  This tree is along the same line of the others cleared for the new drainage and road but has been untouched by machinery.  It's the only intact place to stand right now amidst the development.  My dog led my there and it really was like seeing it for the very first time.  Beautiful and old, reaching and strong.  Through the space below its limbs there's a view of the middle field and places I've been.   It's almost a window into the past, a look into the paths taken and appreciated that are now a part of me.  The remaining beauty really stood out to me there today, and I plan to scoot into this spot again.

the orb keeper

the orb keeper

keeper of the glowing light
in the darkness of your reach
knowing my deepest sorrows
and what heals my soul
you revealed a secret
in that timeless moment

I have it with me.

Her curves take me where I want to go

Another return to the back field today since the machinery in my usual morning spot with Sparkle was very active.  I actually had to go back on my own because she didn't want to make the trek probably because of the humidity.  Once I went through the gate, I stopped to soak in the tree covered with Spanish moss and greeted the gentleman who visits and trains his dog in the space.  I was going to search for wild orchids for a friend, but grabbed a perspective from under the tree instead.  It got me out of the morning sun, and I ended up not leaving the spot until my return home.

I want to say something eloquent about Spanish moss but am not pulling it together the way I'd like to.  There's a feel to the plant, an emotional feel, and I want my words to deliver that feeling. Maybe the best word is 'romantic'.  When I surround myself and go within it, I'm transported to another place, a good feeling place, where I wonder and let myself get absorbed.  :)