Savitri L. Bess

July is the season. We here in Southwest Harbor, Maine, pretty close to Canada, very definitely North Atlantic, we pretend we're in the tropics. For one day. Villagers get all decked out in pink clothes, many gardens are strewn with plastic flamingos, and then our parade. A celebration of warmth and just plain old goofy fun.

All the ones in the parade throw candies out for the children...or for anyone who likes candy.

Yesterday while I was riding my bike home from the library, I heard a band practicing. "When the Saints Come Marching In." I watched them march down one of the side roads. And now today, there they were dancing down the street, their horns loud and wonderfully out of tune, marching in the Flamingo Day Parade.

"You that come to birth and bring the mysteries,
your voice-thunder makes us very happy.
Roar, lion of the heart,
and tear me open!"
--Rumi Read More 

Gold finches and chickadees populate my balcony, their main interest being my bird feeder. Every once in a while a larger bird such as a cardinal tries to perch at the feeder, but usually fails to gain purchase. Instead the cardinals crouch down in the white pot, eating the seeds the gold finches have thrown away.

Anyway, the little golden fellow in the photo seemed to want his picture taken, posing on the top of a piece of driftwood. He is surrounded by pansies and red flowers (I didn't ask what they were called when I bought them as my main interest was attracting hummingbirds). The finch's piece of driftwood sticks out of a large white pot with dill, parsley, and climbing peas.


"O friend, understand: the body
is like the ocean,
rich with hidden treasures.
Open your inmost chamber and light its lamp."

--Mirabai
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Spirittapestries.com has come to a close. I've transferred everything that was important on that site over to pathofthemother.com.

One thing dies and another is reborn.

Life is constantly changing.

Summer has finally arrived in Maine after a troubled start. Dense, cold fog yesterday. Today, warm. That means the veggie garden will be very happy.

A mother duck led her 7 or 8 ducklings into Norwood Cover waters. They all sort of spilled into the water, a bundle of downy feathers. The osprey was no longer cheeping and soaring overhead. Those brave ducklings followed their equally brave mother in one single file, down the center of the cove until they disappeared from sight (too small for my eyes to see).


"All night I could not sleep
because of the moonlight on my bed.
I kept on hearing a voice calling:
Out of Nowhere. Nothing answered 'yes.'"
---Zi Ye (From Jane Hirshfield's Women in Praise of the Sacred
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