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Butterfly Lady.

The Purposeful Habitat.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

swallowtail, painted lady, great spangled fritillary

Amid'st the center of this hot clime, the butterflies in the gardens are busy drinking nectar from morning to night. They join the wasps, flies, and grasshoppers as the most conspicuous of winged insect species presently visible 'round and about the flowers, bushes, shrubs, and trees of the cottage grounds. Countless other insects roam afoot and aflight, but these shy specimens show themselves rarely, or else come out at night when I'm seldom looking.

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Habitat.

Already Given.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

communal action to help native wildlife

The weeks pass so fast between the dawn of promise and the dusk of realization, between the hoped-for and the actual that is, if you're one to let good ideas and sensible projects slide into the netherworld of the undone. Some call it procrastination. I prefer an admonishment: Lack of Will.

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Autumn's End.

The Season Changes.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

sweet gum, silver maple, iris

Nature arrives at her conclusions . . . . well, quite naturally. Just a while back, it was autumn. Now it is winter. The dividing line between the two can be marked and measured in several ways, but the result is always the same. Something ends. Another something begins. And we human players of the Great Game are caught up in the transition.

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September Rain.

The Season Changes.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

morning glory, rose of sharon, caladium

Once ago I sought to overcome sleep, seeing it as an impediment to accomplishment and success. The fewer hours I slept, the more I could devote to task-making and network building in service to the quest for money and power.

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Three Aussies.

Pile of Puppies.

Monday, January 25, 2010

a rescue mission to Frenchman's Bayou

I'm sixty years and they're eleven weeks. It's a good balance. Crow's Cottage rocks with new life and awesome bursts of animal energy. Three puppies! It's hard to imagine, easier to accept. Compassion got the best of me at the moment of acquisition.

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The Seashore

Illusions

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

a meditation inspired by Padre Island National Seashore in Texas

The sea is less joy, more melancholy — if one's mind is set in granite, one's sandaled feet tangled in strings of golden sargassum, one's countenance pensive and solitary.

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The Coming of the O.

And the Hoboes, too.

Friday, January 23, 2009

the new president

We are isolated here at Crows Cottage. By that I mean we control, as best we can, given the limits of a solitary endeavor, the goings in and comings out of humans and ideas.

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Hope Most Cruel.

Too Sandy the Foundation.

October 21, 2008

causes and solutions for mass murder at schools — Part 3

This wont be pretty, not smoothly done. Im navigating choppy seas today, trying to get outta this place. Everywhere I look are shadows on the swells of the deep.

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Off the Snide.

The Necessary Pledge.

October 15, 2008

justification for prolonged silence in wake of a psychic flood

A half-year passes. Nothing. It becomes a thing slowing, a creeping thing, edging toward inertia.

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The Afterthought.

Back to the Same Spoke.

May 1, 2008

the Arlington, Paris, and TM's "Death in Venice"

The old man becomes diaphanous, appears as a pale shadow slipping across the eaves in the early hours after the equinox. He is someone's necessary afterthought.

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Bang Bang.

Save a Life Today.

April 1, 2008

causes and solutions for mass murder at schools — Part 2

Some days later, when the vigils are done, the candles snuffed, the bodies embalmed and cremated, the remains put away, the names of the lost ones inscribed on tombstones in the graveyard or on brass markers in the mausoleum — after all these sombre acts of the aftermath are put to rest, the story of the massacre fades from sight. Look and you might see shades of it in the far away drift of the downstream, see it fading fast in the ceaseless river of new event.

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They Disappear.

Love and the Destroyer.

February 20, 2008

causes and solutions for mass murder at schools — Part 1

The school teacher didn't want to think too long and too hard about evil, didn't want to dwell on it. Too much broody thought might mislead him into concluding that his race of women and men is done gone mad. But he knew the devil was out there, creeping about the land, searching for perpetrators.

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Waiting for Water.

Under the Ancestral Quilt.

January 31, 2008

winter falls on Crow's Cottage

The crow is a messenger,
the whirlwind's mother, deliverer of confirmation.
When you hear one cawing over the refrain of the Zephyr,
        think of me.

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60 Hours Absurd.

Mouse, Rock, the Starlet.

January 15, 2008

blood sausage and the equivocals

I meditated the detached creature named Self into wellness this morn, then I became mad again. The day begins.

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Wraiths and Doves.

Beyond the Vortex.

January 7, 2008

brokenness and dust fall upon the ways of the world

I turn over the hourglass. The white grains of sand begin to fall from the Heavenlies onto the Earth.

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I Was Dead.

Gift of the White Stone.

December 14, 2007

my new name was engraved on the white stone

In the dream I was dead. I was glad when the phone rang to wake me. Have you ever been dead in a dream? What saving grace roused you? Do you ever want to give up? Do you hear the hoarse whisperers in the dead of night? Throw off the heavy weights of responsibility! Be done with it! These are commands from the destroyer, come to devour you.

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Moon and Sun.

Who Has the Time?

November 1, 2007

in the forest, in the city

Some of THE OTHERS are pressed for time. To pause long enough to look at the waxing midnight moon, bright in the cold and cloudless sky, is an act of reflection too weighty for a driven mind to bear.

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Into the Wilds.

Shelter in the Eternal Night.

October 18, 2007

walking the Butterfield Hiking Trail

My hike last week, brief though it was, raises many questions. The questions stop me in my tracks. I haven't been able to get past them to write this letter to you. Until now. Enough is enough.

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Layers of Sound.

Language of Birds.

October 1, 2007

love and the warbling of doves

Buck and I, dog and man, prance like saddled horses, biting the bit in anticipation of the day's journey. Between us and the first step are issues of life. A rider can't be found on this pale morning. We remain stalled at the stable.

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Ambush Scorned.

Music of the Streets.

September 19, 2007

change, looking back

I've wanted to write to you for some time and tell you about my trek up Sarah's Hollow beside the Mulberry with my best pal Buckaroo, tell you about friends and extended family, tell you about community and fellowship in the time of The Dissolution.

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Unique Visitors.

I See Good Things.

August 27, 2007

speculating on the meaning of a unique visitor

What do we see from the mainmast of Crow's Cottage, now that the die is cast, the classroom is a memory, and I'm fully committed to cyberspace again?

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Lost in the Mail.

Something New.

August 20, 2007

introducing the redesign of CornDancer

We were watching the mail for a report from Tupelo about the birthplace of Elvis, but it hasn't arrived yet. Just as well. There are other fish to fry here at Crow's Cottage, where the menu Special of the Day is the CornDancer web and its redesign.

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Notices announcing the publication of each Letter from Crow's Cottage are sent by e-mail express to my list of family, friends, students, and fellow travelers. If you've come here by some other means than an e-mail invitation, and would like to receive notices, please write me so I can add you to the list. I share the addresses with no one but Godzilla the Atomic Road Lizard, who can't type and doesn't do e-mail. 

     Ebenezer Bowles
     threadspinner@corndancer.com

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The stories
linked below
form the narrative "Travels with Godzilla."

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The Journey Ends:
Bye, Buck Bowles.

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Dispatch Eighteen
Fayetteville,
Arkansas
Monday, August 31

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Tobacco:
By the Hand of Man.

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Dispatch Seventeen
Benton,
Kentucky
Thursday, August 27

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Shy and Wonderful:
In Pursuit
Of the Wild Image.

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Dispatch Sixteen
Bowling Green,
Kentucky
Wednesday, August 26

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Mullens
It Wasn't the Flood.

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Dispatch Fifteen
Williamson,
West Virginia
Tuesday, August 25

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What Coal?
So Many Mountains
They're
Giving Some Up.

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Dispatch Fourteen
Beckley,
West Virginia
Monday, August 24

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Illustrated Man:
Pay Is Pay
On the
Honorable Path.

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Dispatch Twelve
Morgantown,
West Virginia
Saturday, August 22

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Which Road?
Counting the Lanes.

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Dispatch Eleven
Bel Air,
Maryland
Friday, August 21

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An Easy Puzzle:
Shade Drenched,
Flat and Tidy.

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Dispatch Ten
Seaford,
Delaware
Thursday, August 20

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Sea Cruise:
A Fine Old Motor Vessel Makes a Smooth Crossing from Jersey to Delaware.

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Dispatch Nine
Seaford,
Delaware
Wednesday, August 19

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Mighty Joe:
From the River Valley To the Sandy Pine Barrens On a Road to Heaven.

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Dispatch Eight
Vineland,
New Jersey
Tuesday, August 18

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Sugar Hollow Road:
Not too Far
down the Way
from Mehoopany.

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Dispatch Seven
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Friday, August 14

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Lucky Stars:
Godzilla Wrestles
a Bear.

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Dispatch Six
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Thursday, August 13

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Erie:
Off Balance, Agitated.

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Dispatch Five
Erie, Pennsylvania
Tuesday, August 11

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Purpose:
Success and Fear On the Sly Peripheral.

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Dispatch Four
Kent, Ohio
Monday, August 10

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Indiana:
You Want to Take Forever.

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Dispatch Three
Howe, Indiana
Sunday, August 9

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Army Truck:
Carry Me Home.

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Dispatch Two
Watseka, Illinois
Saturday, August 8

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Road Trip:
Go Fast.

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Dispatch One
Muscatine, Iowa
Friday, August 7

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