The Salmon

If I wrote a similar blog before, oops…I apologize.  That said, it’s probably worth repeating as the salmon are sacred to the Native Americans.  They symbolize, among other things, that the water is healthy.

I pull off the Klamath River Highway 96 into the Temple of Heaven campground and drive down the 200 feet to be beside the Klamath River and perhaps get a glimpse of the salmon swimming upstream to spawn.  As a woman alone, an insecurity haunts me.  No one knows that I’m here except an old man at The Visitor’s Center at the last rest stop.  He gave me directions on how to get here.  I told him that I wanted to see the salmon running upstream.

“Likely place as any to see the salmon, though I’ve only seen one myself this year, so far, back about two weeks ago,” he ruminates.

“Why, when I was a boy growing up here, the salmon were so thick you could walk across the river on their backs.”

His eyes squint, studying me to see if I bought that.

“It’s true,” he said.

Then, “Go to the right; stay on the road for six miles.  You’re gonna be up 200 feet and you’ll come to a hairpin turn.  Cross over to the left and drive down.  It’s a campsite and there’s a sign, “Temple of Heaven.”

He looks me over, “It’s safe there,” he says as if reading my thoughts.

At Temple of Heaven, I park the car noting the one other car there.  I don’t see anyone but you can bet that my instincts are sharpened.  I find a place not far from the car beside the river.  A wide pool seems to have an underwater light infusing it.  I spot not a single salmon.  I feel somewhat wary, out of my familiar zone, off the well-trod path.  I don’t stay long, though it’s a beautiful spot, pristine and remote.

Driving out of the Temple of Heaven, I pull off the highway several times to see the river from different aspects.  The 1901 rough hewn wooden bridge over Ash Creek which Abner Weed (of the town of Weed fame) had a hand in constructing.  On the ground next to my parked car, I see a scrap of a paper wrapper.  It reads “Live to experience ‘MY INSOLENCE.”  I can only guess that it’s the name of a perfume, or a condom or an insolent miniaturized alien who obviously left because she’s not here when I kick the paper over.

The Klamath River, like most of the rivers I’ve seen, is distinctly beautiful.  I drive towards Yreka along a stretch of road I’ve never traveled before.  Highway 263 parallels the Shasta River.  The Shasta River snakes through Dry Gulch.  At one point, there’s a pocket of houses in a canyon beside the river.  I stop the car to take a picture.  I pull over several times to let the occasional car pass or to view the winding river stretching though the rocky gorge.  White foam and ripples brace the vegetation on the banks.  Another distance and then, Mount Shasta appears with new snow on its north face, rivaling Shangri La.

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The Native American Tribe, Winnemem Wintu, is local to northern California…they are the protectors of the salmon, the river, the water.

 

Reflections

Reflections
© by Christine O’Brien

A whole forest has tumbled over
and lies, bottom side up
in the water!
A horizontal duck skims
the surface of the forest
and its twin follows upside down.
The crags promenade
above and below
snow sifted on their high points.
Ripples distort the reflections.
A bird call sounding like
a squeaky wheel
although no bird is in sight.
I promised to sit here
for one hour today
witnessing
what I see and hear.
An invisible dog’s bark.
One noisy motor boat passes
not at high speed.
The surface of the lake responds,
disturbed,
waves, the wake, plowing hard to the shore;
silt at the bottom by the shore
rises to the surface.
everything is affected
including me
It takes awhile for it all to
settle down.

Castle Lake.1a.jpg

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When was the last time you took an hour (or half an hour) to witness your surroundings?  Something shifts when I take the time to do this.

“Water Water Everywhere Nor Any Drop to Drink…”

When Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, he was surrounded by an ocean of undrinkable water.

The upcoming art show at Siskiyou Art Museum in Dunsmuir, California has the theme of EBB AND FLOW.  It is an open call to artists of any ilk to create something to do with water–“celebrating water in all its forms.”  We have come to call water our most precious resource.  There are those in the world who deny global warming.  There are others who are ready to prove that global warming is without a doubt something we need to face –yesterday!

Drinking tea in the morning is the way I begin my day.  I do like my tea…and a cup in the afternoon or at the end of the day is a pleasant ritual.  What would I do without my tea…I began this painting a few years ago before this art show was conceived.  Now, it has become timely and I think I’ve finished it.  Just a few touches and then it’s ready for the show in July of 2019.  And I am calling it “water, water everywhere…”  Doesn’t she look a bit parched?

water,water2.jpg

Eternal Song

landscape3a
Eternal Song Abstract

Eternal Song
by Christine O’Brien

Eternal song
sang its way down river
as I perched upon rock relics.
Tree watchers nestled,
their tops leaned in closely
to catch wind’s whisper.
Omniscient sky
stood stalwart,
clouds camouflaging heaven.

Eternal song
pitched a tent
while sun dunked itself
behind ocean’s screen
and pointy stars tweaked
dark-veiled sky
standing stalwart.
Intruding moon
strung a beam
and lit up any thought of
privacy
while eternal song
softly hummed wisdom.

Dawn woke with a yawn
and a stretch
across sleepy landscape.
Twitters and chirps
startled the drowsy birds
awake.
Nudging cats begged
to be let outside.
That is,
the ones who hadn’t hidden from
“come home” calls the evening before
dallying in secret night caves.

Off-key roosters
crowed when the spirit
moved them.
Stalwart sky blushed from rose
to soft-spoken blue
as fading stars
vacationed in another part of the world.
Australia, perhaps.
And all those humans
built timepieces,
danced to another tune,
rushed to and from importance
and they hardly ever noticed
eternal song.

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Did you notice the use of PERSONIFICATION in this poem?

 

Writing Prompt:
Earth, Air, Fire and Water.  The elements of our environment–these are our make-up also.  Choose an element and write your poem of appreciation.  Or weave them all together as I have done in this poem.  Three deep breaths, settle down and write.  The polishing can come later.