A Few More Sentences – 07
Zaagibagaa-giizis (Budding Moon) Edition
Boozhoo, indinawemaaganidog! Aaniin! That is to say hello, all of my relatives! Welcome to another edition of An Irritable Métis. In this case, I am happy to present the SEVENTH EDITION! of the monthly sentences. For those of you new here, that’s where I post my daily, single sentences that I’ve accumulated for the month-just-ended, based on the practice that ultimately led to my first book, One-Sentence Journal, back in 2018. It’s a simple practice and fulfilling … and also maybe not so simple as it may seem. Regardless, it is excellent training for paying attention to the small moments of my life, and I enjoy sharing those moments here. As always, I deeply appreciate your time and attention….
2023_0501: I’m happy to take a moment to think of all the fires being lit for Beltane, despite everything conspiring against them.
2023_0502: Debut ruck on the fringes of the Superfund site.
2023_0503: So much bluster without a storm.
2023_0504: Almost lost in the cacophony of the other morning birds, the doves keep up their steady, rhythmic cooing, like tiny monks chanting their way to paradise.
2023_0505: Overnight the river in runoff becomes a ravenous animal.
2023_0506: The cherry tree wears rain droplets like sequins depending from every branch.
2023_0507: Storm like one off a seething ocean seeks to wash me off the road during my after-dark drive home, yet I am many driving hours away from any coastline.
2023_0508: All the technology at our fingertips and sometimes cardboard and a liberal supply of duct tape remain the best options for an abundance of tactical solutions.
2023_0509: Frustrated and struggling to wrangle thoughts into words, I watch the motion of the ceiling fan reflected in the curved surface of the spoon I used to eat my peach-flavored yogurt.
2023_0510: Porch sitting this cool, beautiful spring evening with only birds for company, I reflect on how many people are closed indoors and missing it … and how many times that has been me too.
2023_0511: Amik stripping the skin off willow branches and nibbling away while the swollen Clark Fork surges around him is the best way to spend twilight on a glorious day in the middle of spring.
2023_0512: Still twitterpated by time spent with beavers beside the surge and muddy scent of a swollen river.
2023_0513: Red Sleep Mountain opens on a gloriously sunny day that is only improved on by an afternoon nap.
2023_0514: Fox kits in the field bordering the Superfund site.
2023_0515: The kits have their heads down this morning but Mama Fox is sleek and beautiful.
2023_0516: No fox hunting in the field, just the yellow cat.
2023_0517: First wave of the year’s wildfire smoke blows in from the north, an unwelcome portent of the months to come.
2023_0518: Another spring morning when the cherry tree decides to demand all the attention.
2023_0519: Reverse end-capping at the big box outdoor store because fuck them for capitalizing on the sale of hatred.
2023_0520: There is nothing so common about the rambunctious tern.
2023_0521: Wake thinking of extra attention at the altar of my holiest place of worship.
2023_0522: Travel day into an entirely different elemental timeline.
2023_0523: A perfect situation: no cell service, no wifi, and a hot shower as many times a day as I might want to enjoy one.
2023_0524: Eyes on the horizon, ears alert to the approaching lumber of either grizzly bear or surly bull buff’lo.
2023_0525: There is no reciprocal relationship if a checklist is involved.
2023_0526: When the ancestral calving grounds of a sacred animal are turned into a subdivision for rich assholes with Trump flags it is clear this “national mammal” farce is just another in a series of farces going back more than two hundred years.
2023_0527: Stories around a fire, as they were meant to be told.
2023_0528: A surprisingly tasty chicken fried steak for breakfast at a diner in Ennis, Montana, proves not necessarily everything in these parts has sold out to the Fly Fishing Industrial Complex.
2023_0529: Not one but two lovely indigo buntings bounce between the feeders and the juniper bush.
2023_0530: Overnight the mosquito menace has expanded one thousand fold.
2023_0531: The cricket who has taken up residence under my window is a vigorous and relentless and welcome neighbor who chitters and chitters and chitters and, thankfully, requires no more of a response than a quiet smile.
Fox kits, twitterpated over beavers, rain droplets like sequins (😍) . . . and then this line, which feels like an opening into a darker world: "There is no reciprocal relationship if a checklist is involved."
Indigo buntings!!! :D
The other evening my wife and I were walking in the bird sanctuary by our home and we encountered three mule deer, one white-tail deer, a brown headed cowbird, a trout and two fish of another kind we didn't recognize, an abundance of wood ducks and wood ducklings (VERY SMOL AND NEW), baby prairie dogs, goslings, and one very fat, happy beaver with a branch for nomming. The beaver was swimming along toward a bridge just as we came to it. We watched her swim under, the leaves on the brunch trailing out alongside her like she was some mythical animal in a Miyazaki film.