About 15 minutes from where I live there is a man made lake next to a park.  Everytime it snows, people bring their children to the park to play with the snow.  There is a flock of birds staying on the lake.  Last week, I stopped by the lake to take pictures of the park, the lake, people and birds. 

Perhaps they migrate from a colder region, Canada or Alaska.  When they reach this location they decide that they can live here because it is not too cold and they can find food. 

Somehow the migrating birds always remind me of immigrants (and myself is among the immigrants).  We left behind a place and the past to seek something in the future.  Along the way we found a place to call it home.  Although we gather into a community, sometimes a very large one, at times we just seem a lonely group of outsiders.  And although we can live happily in the place we have chosen, each of us seems to long for the place we once lived.

Last weekend I went to the library and again I borrowed the DVD Winged Migration.  I already remembered by heart how the movie began.  “They fly often with thousands of miles, beset with danger, for a single reason: to survive. . .  Each migration began with a promise.  A promise to return.”

Lunar new year is coming.  This is the time many Vietnamese find an opportunity to fulfill their promise to return.  Some of us hesitate.

Last night snow fell and covered my wooden deck in the back of the house.  Snow fell through the gap and a pattern was left.  Pictures are taken when there is no sun.





Snow flowers.



I threw three strawberries on the snow just to see the vibrant color.



A log covered with snow right on my back yard.



Another snow flower.



When there is strong wind I often hear howling, whistling, or moaning.  Perhaps the sound comes from this mouth.  A deserted bird house.



I left some hay to feed the deer but they did not eat.



The spruce was planted since 2004 as small as a child hand sticking out on the snow.  It has grown this much in almost five years.

Taking the state highway toward West, turning right on the street that leads to my house, if I go straight for about ¼ mile I will be home.  But if I turn left abruptly instead of going straight I will be on a narrow, full of holes, gravel road that leads to a cul-de-sac.  Going for a short distance, about a hundred yards I will come to a bamboo grove.  I guess in the beginning the owner of the house next to the bamboo grove planted just a few bamboos but they grew faster and stronger the native vegetation.  Now they grow into a grove very thick and wildly.  They expand into the lawn and cover the trail that can be used as a short cut into another neighborhood.  No one can believe that next to the state highway there is a bamboo grove.  It maybe a pain for the house owner to try to stop the bamboo invasion, however it is a joy for me when I accidentally discover this place.

Last Sunday, when snow still covered the ground, I came to visit the grove, knowing I would see a beautiful scene.  Snow was still on bamboo leaves heavy enough to make branches bend.  In light wind they swayed gracefully.  While other trees around frozen with dead color of black,  dark brown, gray and  the ground white without sign of life, the bamboos were lush green and cheerful with fresh leaves that looked like thousands of jade pieces dangling and almost sweeping the snowy ground.  I wished I could write a poem.  Poor me, I had no creative juice in my vein.  When the sun came out, the light shone on a few drops on the bamboo leaves I could see a tiny rainbow on a drop.  A sad person may see these droplets as tear.  A happy person may see them as pearls.  I see the beauty but have no words to compare or describe.  Perhaps,

A droplet on a bamboo leaf,

thought it was born,

a better position

than the snow on the ground. 

It did not know

when the sun burn bright,

it would turn to a drop of water,

fall to the ground and

and become the same as others. 

Same holy tree very tall bush of “holly,” different occasions.

You probably know that I carry my camera everywhere and everyday.  At least almost.  Last week Friday morning, it was about to snow.  I took this picture as I sat on the train and it was ready to go.  This location is a favorite spot of these pigeons.  They sat there perhaps everyday.  I say perhaps because I do not check to see if they are there daily.  Just each time I look I see them there.  Do you ever wonder why they sit on the wire, and how they do not get electrocute?  Do they get warmer when they sit close together?  The train window is very dirty, you see.

Tuyết rơi từ hôm qua.  Suốt ngày hôm qua tôi nằm trên ghế sô pha xem DVD nói về những miền đất xa lạ mà tôi thèm được du lịch ít ra là cũng một lần trong đời.  Tôi làm một cuộc du lịch một vòng các xứ Đông Âu như Tiệp Khắc, Nam Tư, Ba Lan trong một DVD và làm một chuyến du lịch khác đến Spain và Portugal.  Tôi vốn mê những kiến trúc cổ.  Các nhà thờ và dinh thự ở Spain làm lòng tôi xốn xang muốn được viếng thăm xứ này.

Nói chuyện du hành, tôi bàn với người thân là tôi mơ ước được đi thăm Angkor Vat mùa hè năm 2009.  Và dù dự định nay vẫn còn phôi thai tôi đã mang về hằng lố sách tham khảo về Angkor Vat.  

Thức giấc từ lúc năm giờ rưỡi sáng, trời bên ngoài tối đen.  Có lẽ nhờ nghỉ ngơi suốt ngày hôm qua nên sáng nay tôi thấy người tỉnh táo muốn thức sớm để viết một vài ý nghĩ đeo đuổi tôi mấy hôm nay.  Trời tối đen nhưng mặt đất trong rừng sau nhà tôi sáng rực vì tuyết trắng phản chiếu ánh sáng từ không gian trông rất huyền ảo.  Có lẽ đêm qua trăng tròn và mặt đất phủ tuyết sáng rực nhờ  phản quang của tuyết trong đêm.  Tôi không nhìn thấy trăng có lẽ vì mây che.  Bây giờ ngồi đây sau khi đọc báo và đọc một số blog tôi thích cánh rừng đằng sau nhà đã sáng.  Mặt đất được phủ một lớp kem trắng và nhờ có lớp kem trắng này phủ lên tôi lại nhìn thấy một sợi dây leo đã đứt và nằm trên mặt đất có hình dáng của cái khóa Sol còn gọi là Treble Clef Sign.  Bởi vì nếu không có tuyết thì cành cây lẫn vào trong màu đất nâu và nếu tuyết nhiều quá thì cành cây cũng lẫn vào trong tuyết mà không còn nhìn thấy gì cả.  Không khí thật tĩnh mịch.  Tuyết đã làm che lấp nén nghẹn tất cả âm thanh.

These pictures came to me by a chain mail.

Masters Of The Field

Up above gathered on a field of clouds
crowded a lot down in the lowlands
Waiting for their time
Waiting and calling, calling out for rain
to leave the skies down in the lowlands
Masters of the field

Wings wind set in the teeth of the wind
The old beasts feathered wild beasts
Masters of the field.

Eagle dancers, wings that shape the wind
Carving the clouds into spirit
Sufis of the air

Dervish dancers summoning the sun
To tint the mist down on the lowlands
Masters of the field
Wings wind set in the teeth of the wind

Old beasts, feathered, wild beasts
Masters of the field

Last Saturday, as the young lady at check out counter of my local library checked my books out, I looked around and behind me.  On a displaying desk there were many boxes that looked like video tapes.  I asked her what they were and she told me they were audio books.  “Inside each box there is a small device look like an ipod with a few buttons.  Plug a head phone in and maneuver these buttons and you can listen to a book,” she said.  I asked her if she ever listened to any of them. She replied that she had listened to The Abortionist’s Daughter of Elizabeth Hyde.  She said it was good.  There were quite a few books displayed and I saw The First Choice of Nicholas Sparks.  However I chose the Abortionist’s Daughter because of its controversial title.  I listened to it when I sat on the train to work and on the way to return home. 

The book begins with the murder of the abortion doctor, Diane.  Listeners will have to guess who the killer is. The murderer could have been her husband of 20 years with a few domestic unresolved conflicts throughout their marriage, or the doctor’s bratty 19 year old daughter, Megan who was fighting with Diane about a trip to Mexico that Megan had wanted it as a Christmas present, or Megan’s boyfriend, Bill, who was unable to let go of Megan after they broke up, or Reverend Stephen who opposed abortion, or an unknown drug dealer whom Diane owed a lot of drug money as Bill reported to the police.  Although there are some parts the author discussed and described some graphic pictures of abortion and the pro and con between the pro-life and pro-choice, the book mainly is about solving a murder case.  The book is very interesting.  I am hooked by the intriguing plot as well as the family relationship between husband and wife, mother and daughter, and love and the death of love.  While I am totally absorbed in the murder case.  It is completely refreshing to see how the young detective Huck Berlin and Megan falling for each other.  Elizabeth Hyde is skillful in building a character like Doctor Diane Duprey who does abortion however she chooses to carry to full term and raise her son although she knew the boy would be heavily retarded.

The down side of this audio book is I cannot rewind to certain parts that I miss or skip certain parts if I want to or I cannot speed it.  If I miss something I have to listen to the whole chapter again.  If I want to skip I have to skip a whole chapter.  When I got the book from my librarian, I was kidding to her, maybe I would be addicted to audio book.  I think I am now, it is much lighter than to carry a book on the train, and I can give my eyes a rest.

To Be By Your Side – Nick Cave

Across the oceans
Across the seas,
Over forests of blackened trees.
Through valleys so still we dare not breathe,
To be by your side.

Over the shifting desert plains,
Across mountains all in flames.
Through howling winds and driving rains,
To be by your side.

Every mile and every year
for every one a little tear.
I cannot explain this, Dear
I will not even try.

Into the night as the stars collide,
Across the borders that divide
forests of stone standing petrified,
To be by your side.

Every mile and every year,
For every one a single tear.
I cannot explain this, Dear,
I will not even try.

For I know one thing,
Love comes on a wing
For tonight I will be by your side.
But tomorrow I will fly.

From the deepest ocean
To the highest peak,
Through the frontiers of your sleep.
Into the valley where we dare not speak,
To be by your side.

Across the endless wilderness  
where all the beasts bow down their heads.
Darling I will never rest
till I am by your side.

Every mile and every year,
Time and Distance disappear
I cannot explain this. Dear!
No, I will not even try.

For I know one thing,
Love comes on a wing and tonight
I will be by your side.

But tomorrow I will fly away, in wind

Love rises with the day
and tonight I may be by your side.

But tomorrow I will fly,

Tomorrow I will fly,

Tomorrow I will fly.