Susan Carol Hauser

Peeping the Land: A Survey

In Bog-watching, Peeping the Land on September 2, 2014 at 2:23 pm

http://www.21963ericalanenw.com

Peeping the Lane: A Survey
September 2, 2014
August 30 post revisited.

From my window, I watch the bog. No human foot treads upon it, not in winter or spring, not in summer, not in this incipient autumn when the grasses and reeds separate from each other by way of color, chartreuse where the water course runs, dark forest where the creek enters the bay, fern where the grasses mix with each other in disarray. The bay is equally blessed with solitude and disorder. Lillies and wild rice and flora I cannot name crowd the open blue water of summer. There is profit in the overage: the swans still eat here and Canada geese, though I think the pelicans and loons are gone. Soon the arctic loons will arrive, along with other migrating fowl, cormorants, blackducks, snow geese, many that I do not even try to name. They will not stay long. They are only fleet messengers: we are here; we will be back.

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Peeping the Land: A Survey

In Peeping the Land on August 30, 2014 at 3:22 pm

http://www.21963ericalanenw.com

Peeping the Lane: A Survey
August 30, 2014

From my window, I watch the bog. No human foot treads upon it, not in spring, not in summer, not in this incipient autumn when the grasses and reeds separate from each other by way of color, chartreuse where the winter water course runs, dark forest where the creek enters the bay, pistachio where the grasses mix with each other in disarray. The madness of it drives me to hyperbole: Forsooth! I want to say—the chaos of fall is upon us! Run! Run! Run! Run to the city, to the town, into the house, at least. Cold, wind, snow are galloping toward us and not even in winter does the human foot tread upon the bog.

 08-25-2014

Peeping the Land: A Survey

In Peeping the Land on August 25, 2014 at 2:50 pm

www.21963ericalanenw.com

Peeping the Land: A Survey
August 25, 2014

I was taking pictures of Rugosa roses in the back yard—new magenta blossoms side by side with rusty red rose hips—when I heard the geese coming from the other side of the house. They were low and honking and would fly almost above me, I was sure, although the roof of my house was between us and I could not see them or the trajectory of their path. The camera was on a tripod. I swiveled it, pointing upward and just above the trees on the hillside. The geese came in. I followed them, I hoped, with the lens, blindly, without benefit of the monitor, and snapped, and then they were gone, and I wondered if I had captured anything more than this morning’s mottled sky, both open and closed, like a camera while it is taking a picture, or a summer season developing into fall.

08-25-2014

 

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