tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22287033100149675532024-09-27T18:59:54.992-07:00Aisling (pronounced Ash-ling) is a Gaelic term for dream or poetic vision. In an Aisling, Ireland appears as a woman to the poet. There is something that really captivated me/us about this term. The land we live on we are calling Aisling. This blog is about the experience of living with this piece of land as our sanctuary. Think of this blog as a poetry and prose of place that honors the feminine principle of creation.Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-79154068984224568522013-11-08T11:36:00.001-08:002013-11-08T11:44:43.176-08:00

The "guns of autumn" have quieted from the hillsides around us. Recently, in a short period of time, friends of mine made comments about hunters that disturbed me. They were essentially calling them hicks, rednecks  with no intelligence. It was disquieting for me because I know some of these college educated people who choose to hunt to fill their freezers and feed their family. Other people

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-53292385140891988532013-10-20T20:57:00.001-07:002013-10-20T20:57:07.159-07:00

The fog settled over the land and muted the sun until it resembling the moon at its current stage of fullness. Four turkeys ran to the feeder and then to another location. (Whatever gets into their small brains is a mystery.) The temperature hovered in the upper thirties. In a matter of a few days I left the beauty of this land, hiked in the snow of the Three Sisters Wilderness, mountain biked in

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-86938573059639112922013-10-06T21:26:00.002-07:002013-10-06T21:30:46.132-07:00

"The earth has music for those who listen." George Santayana Sometimes there seems to be little that will satisfy my soul. A busy work life filled with people's voices and electronic communications takes me from the feel of the breeze and rain on my face. The energy of the earth becomes blocked through insulated shoes and concrete.  Then on some weekends my energy is such that I

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-60710592897381231822013-09-22T21:26:00.001-07:002013-09-22T21:34:06.692-07:00

"And I told him that a man's life is always dealing with permanence- that the most dangerous kind of irresponsibility is to think of your doings as temporary. That, anyhow, is what I've tried to keep before myself. What you do on the earth, the earth makes permanent." Wendell Berry, A Place on Earth. p. 180 Oreon Lyons, Chief of the Onondaga Nation, writes: "We are looking ahead, as is one

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-59473292495452756602013-09-16T10:39:00.002-07:002013-09-16T12:06:48.346-07:00

Aldo Leopold once wrote, "One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds." We live in a world that demands more and more trade-offs between socio-economic interests (I think it was Jeremy Rifkin who called our species Homo Economicus) and ecological health. Through my life it has led to a values trade-off between my compassionate concern for other

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-156082858932192432013-09-08T19:42:00.002-07:002013-09-08T20:05:18.451-07:00

Silence by Hafez A day of Silence Can be a pilgrimage in itself. A day of Silence Can help you listen To the Soul play In marvelous lute and drum. Is not most talking A crazed defense of a crumbling fort? I thought we came here To surrender in Silence, To yield to Light and Happiness, To Dance within In celebration of Love’s Victory! Silence is what many people crave in this busy and, at

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-51632858036874590002013-08-19T22:03:00.001-07:002013-08-19T22:03:00.025-07:00

The crickets announce themselves as the night has fallen and the nearly full moon lights up the meadow. The Old Farmer's Almanac (and other people) state that you can tell the temperature by the number of chirps from crickets: To convert cricket chirps to degrees Fahrenheit, count number of chirps in 14 seconds then add 40 to get temperature. For example: 30 chirps + 40 = 70° F  I've also

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-89705166589216118102013-05-13T10:11:00.000-07:002013-05-13T10:14:22.718-07:00

Prudy's Japanese Maple survived the transplant The Northwest is suffering from a serious lack of rain... record level for some parts of Oregon. The other day I was down in one of the gardens to find the clay ground already cracking. Thankfully the ground isn't cement-hard like it gets in the summer. However, I'm late in getting the taters into the ground- the unexpected weather has put me

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-73448464089372656352013-03-29T20:20:00.001-07:002013-03-29T20:20:07.785-07:00

Sunlight melts the frost from the meadow. The last droplets cling to the eaves as they continue their journey from ice crystals to ground water. Rainbow light paints the ceiling- courtesy of some unseen prism. It is springish this morning- sunny, leaves budding, a few flowers coming out and barely above freezing. It is the time between Winter and Spring: Sprinter. It is an appropriate name for

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-84123931410845015512012-09-05T20:47:00.001-07:002012-09-05T20:52:18.848-07:00

I love this time of year. There is the slight hint of Fall in the air, but the days are still warm... if not hot. In the morning my meditation happens when the moon is bright, some stars still shine, and dawn is just etching the darkness with color and light. The stillness is only broken by the conversation between two Screech Owls or the bass call of a Great Horned Owl. Occasionally, the

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-15856018842060871452012-06-04T11:31:00.002-07:002012-06-04T11:34:02.038-07:00

The land reveals itself in color, shape and texture these days. Whether it is the Calla Lily blowing among the Hosta or the male American Goldfinch painting a yellow streak through the air- there is a presentation of form. To express the beauty and interconnectedness of life into a form of language is the challenge. The artist/writer is skilled at it- of evoking a sense of place and connecting

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-91312818524507690882012-01-30T10:34:00.000-08:002012-01-30T10:34:37.302-08:00

Two weeks ago we had record rainfall and subsequent flooding. Saturated soils were unable to retain all the water and it began it's downhill run into the tributaries and rivers. What had been a dry winter turned into a soggy one. Just when people were worrying (and creating catastrophic predictions) about dry wells, empty reservoirs, shriveled crops, burned up lawns, and massive wildland fires

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-79243777534436907432012-01-16T12:41:00.000-08:002012-01-16T12:41:18.787-08:00

Aristotle observed that "nature abhors a vacuum." So do people. When things don't make sense, we make meaning of them even if it is erroneous. We go to great lengths to have patterns mean something; to create order. In general, we don't like disorder, chaos, and meaninglessness. Even people who say they like change mean that they like the change that they want. So, what does it have to do with

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-11689139517668834702011-12-21T12:27:00.000-08:002011-12-21T12:33:29.835-08:00

Gray fog, gray clouds and dark days have colored the weeks of winter. The winds are stilled. The windless days mean that plenty of leaves cling to the trees- oaks and apples still have clothes on. Periodically, Ol Sol sheds its veil to entice us with the memory of shorts, t-shirts, and warm skin. Yesterday afternoon I got out on a mountain bike ride and was surprised to see my shadow. A sliver

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-35192492311741334792011-11-19T12:02:00.000-08:002011-11-19T12:02:29.572-08:00

Squash is native to the Americas, having been transported by humans from Mexico and Central America, they have spread around the world where there is enough summer warmth to let them grow. They add color to late autumn and early winter- a mainstay for U.S. fall and winter holidays. In our garden we grow them in the garden with potatoes and corn- plants that need vertical and horizontal space.

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-614694537950562322011-10-30T21:02:00.000-07:002011-10-30T21:39:33.708-07:00

Leaves of maple and ash turn yellow then brown; swallowing by the ground. Sage and thyme cling to the stems basil, olive oil and pignolia swallowed by us. Apples picked potatoes stashed in the cool and dark darkness swallows us. Nasturtiums and Cosmos wilt in the first frost broccoli and cabbage relish the cold wallow we in light lost. Irises and columbine seek earthen warmth wood piles

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-79950787199103841492011-09-27T20:44:00.000-07:002011-09-27T20:47:11.041-07:00

"All still when summer is over stand shocks in the field, nothing left to whisper, not even good-bye, to the wind. After summer was over we knew winter would come: we knew silence would wait, tall, patient calm." - William Stafford, Tragic Song  It is harvest time for ourselves and all creatures. The bumble and honey bee are busily harvesting the remaining pollen before the rainy

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-69494610048586647472011-09-11T21:09:00.000-07:002011-09-11T21:12:03.975-07:00

It is healthy for each person to have a place they go to for nourishment. I immerse myself in the sounds of the crickets tonight as the almost full moon rises and the heat of the day turns into a cooling salve for the heart. Sometimes it is a deep dive into the single note of a nuthatch or the melodic call of a hermit thrush. There are those who find their nourishment from a rift from Miles Davis

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-86476795450399418782011-08-20T17:16:00.000-07:002011-08-20T17:16:07.970-07:00

On the last day of June a friend captured some images of our place from the air. (The long green space bordered by the trees on the right and the horse ranch on the left.) It looks so small from the air, yet when on the ground it seems like the land is big. In reality we are but a speck on this great spinning planet of ours. Travel is one way of putting everything in perspective and to get that

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-11711247897183838562011-05-21T09:05:00.000-07:002011-05-21T15:31:06.224-07:00

Check this out- a tom strutting his stuff. It is pretty amazing to watch this bird (not too dissimilar in size from the hen in the foreground) go from one size to being this puffed up. It is the first time that we've had a tom (male) come to the property and court the hens. At different times of the day (at night they roost off the ground) the male calls out in that sound we associate with a

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-12756271604418080132011-04-25T20:31:00.000-07:002011-04-25T20:32:00.182-07:00

It is that time of year when cultures around the world celebrate life and the return of warmth by recognizing blossoms, (at least in the northern hemisphere). I know there are the cherry blossom festivals in Washington D.C. and Japan. But it seems to me that the beauty of the peach blossom is overlooked. This exquisite flower adorns our new peach tree. I've learned the lesson of paying a little

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-35382346446332744952011-04-10T21:44:00.000-07:002011-04-10T21:44:47.357-07:00

Lots of things changing each day. The blueberries are blossoming and we will have to take the blossoms off for the second year so all the energy goes into root formation. Next year we get to eat them. We've waited three years for the asparagus and this year we'll be able to eat them. The spears are coming out of the ground. I planted a number of plants, shrubs, and trees. One of them is a peach

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-42993303593717330162011-03-01T20:50:00.000-08:002011-03-01T20:50:06.679-08:00

 The weather for a large part of Jan/Feb was dry and the worries turn to summer fires, dust bowl quality droughts, and the well water running out. Then the snow comes and the cold.... with it comes the thoughts that maybe this cold snap will go on forever. Now the rains return and the cry is that our spring will be a deluge rather than a delight. Do you really remember what the weather was

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-15117552589350840662011-02-13T20:25:00.000-08:002011-02-13T20:29:16.849-08:00

The other night Susan and I were driving home and there was an enormous "halo" around the moon. They appear every so often, but I have never seen one this large... it extended through half of the sky. Scientifically, it is the refraction of light from the moon, which is light reflected from the sun.  Folklore states that it portends oncoming bad weather... fact and fiction can both be true.

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2228703310014967553.post-71795014978563716852011-02-07T20:30:00.000-08:002011-02-07T20:30:13.424-08:00

It is the time for planting, pruning and moving.  This is a photo of me and the magnolia tree. We're going to put a wood shed next to the pole barn and the tree had to be moved. The trick is that magnolia's don't easily transplant, so we will see how it does when it starts putting out it's new growth. Today I planted around 60 native plants. We are reintroducing more native species,

Joseph's Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04426827201605936792noreply@blogger.com0