Counting Crows

Wikicommons tgreyfox

Here in the Pacific Northwest, ravens can only be found in the forests. In the city, crows take their place in our trees and in our stories. They’ve earned it. Everyone has a crow story. Continue reading

Slow Flow

Here’s what a glacier looks like when shot from a vehicle speeding down the highway. The car moves faster, but the ice is moving, too. It’s flow is just a little slower, but no less powerful for that.

FIDELITY by D H Lawrence

Fidelity and love are two different things, like a flower
and a gem.
And love, like a flower, will fade, will change into some-
thing else
or it would not be flowery.

O flowers they fade because they are moving swiftly; a
little torrent of life
leaps up to the summit of the stem, gleams, turns over
round the bend
of the parabola of curved flight,
sinks, and is gone, like a comet curving into the invisible.

O flowers they are all the time travelling
like comets, and they come into our ken
for a day, for two days, and withdraw, slowly vanish again.

And we, we must take them on the wind, and let them go.
Embalmed flowers are not flowers, immortelles are not
flowers are just a motion, a swift motion, a coloured
that is their loveliness. And that is love.

But a gem is different. It lasts so much longer than we do
so much much much longer
that it seems to last forever.
Yet we know it is flowing away
as flowers are, and we are, only slower.
The wonderful slow flowing of the sapphire!

All flows, and every flow is related to every other flow.
Flowers and sapphires and us, diversely streaming.
In the old days, when sapphires were breathed upon and
brought forth
during the wild orgasms of chaos
time was much slower, when the rocks came forth.
It took aeons to make a sapphire, aeons for it to pass away.

And a flower it takes a summer.

And man and woman are like the earth, that brings forth
in summer, and love, but underneath is rock.
Older than flowers, older than ferns, older than fora-
older than plasm altogether is the soul of a man under-

And when, throughout all the wild orgasms of love
slowly a gem forms, in the ancient, once-more molten
of two human hearts, two ancient rocks, a man’s heart
and a woman’s,
that is the crystal of peace, the slow hard jewel of trust,
the sapphire of fidelity.
The gem of mutual peace emerging from the wild chaos of love.

Maybe D.H. Lawrence is the reason I saw a heart in the ice?



Iceland’s moss fields are not quite so famous – or so awe-inspiring – as it’s lava fields or volcanoes. But they are quite remarkable. The moss is the first thing that grows in the soil that forms from eroding lava rock. Even though it looks invitingly springy to walk on, it can take years for the moss to regrow from a single footprint. Iceland’s moss is like the new downy hair on a baby’s head – and you wouldn’t step on that, would you?