Much has been burned in the Arganil area and beyond.
My farm in Monte Frio has been completely burnt & charred – thankfully the house that was being reconstructed is untouched as until now it was only stone walls.
Here are some pics i took over the weekend.
long weekend of fire watching and evacuation of friend’s goats
What is time but the space between objects?
What are objects but the time of a space?
What is space but the object of time?
The faster we go, the slower our world.
The brighter we are, the darker our shadows.
The harder we push, the softer their pull.
All things are connected by nothing, and nothing is made up of all things.
Atop the rock upon which i built
my sacred tower of stones that tilt,
she nibbles on the moss there grows;
Dainty, poised – her balance shows.
It could easily come crashing down
As shes turns herself nimbly around –
Destroying the pillar either by intent,
the result is the same, if its accident.
A precarious position i can only observe
in case my proximity breaks her nerve.
And so i pause with breath baited
hoping she spares what was created.
Beautiful Belinda, bespeckled and freckled.
Ready for winter, a coat of fur as pretty as her
flanks of rose n cinder. She’ll thrive with a life
that none wil hinder. Bell rings and brings
a profile on tinder, a catch with many a match.
Saying what is seen
Speaking what is felt
Listen what is heard
Seeking what is hidden
Chasing what is lost
Take what is found
Opening of the door
Setting of the table
Provision of the needed
Freeing of the mind
Lightening of the heart
Reception of the given
Below my feet the mountain sprawls
I hear the village bell chime as the sun it falls
The wind blusters and blows without whistle
I feel as if time has come to a standstill
Biding with patience that’s fully enjoyed
I stand alone as a herder employed