Einstein was right; there is no time, there is only a series of present moments and our mission, ‘if we choose to accept it’, is to be fully conscious as we experience them.

I’ve been challenged to intimately share present moments with a dear friend who suffered a stroke and his worst nightmare come true i.e., falling under the control of medical doctors, who rushed to put tubes down his nose, into his arm and up his penis, while infusing him with Seroquel.  Yes, he did suffer brain damage, but being infantilized and drugged is what is killing him now.  I tried to help — too hard — and only succeeded in aggravating him into a livid rage.  I wish I could have been more aware in the present moments that lead to that debacle.

That reminds me of the Moody Blues tune: Don’t You Feel Small.

We measure the illusion of time (hows that for an oxymoron?) via the movement of celestial bodies, and I took note on the vernal equinox of the sun’s position on the horizon when it set.

I’m getting a better feel for the earth’s tilt as I watch the sunsets night after night at The Springs and I’m humbled to consider the inductive ingenuity of Copernicus and his fellow astronomers.  On the first day of Spring I ran into Melanie Kapinos leading a group of sun worshipers as they observed the season changing ever-so-slowly at The Springs.

The persistent Winter is my opportunity to burn as many brush piles as I can along the Buckthorn Alley, and I got after it this past Monday and Thursday burning 22 and 25 piles respectively.  Here is how it looked when I arrived on Monday.

It was a fine day and I tried to leave my worries behind and focus on igniting recalcitrant brush piles.

I was cheered by the songs of hundreds of red-winged blackbirds as I toured The Springs at the end of the day.

Sundown Monday.

Thursday was a carbon copy of Monday, but it bears repeating!  Dick Jenks helped out in the morning by prepping and tending piles.

I was burdened all day with regret about upsetting my bedridden buddy.  Hopefully, I’ll be wiser for it.

I always call the Waukesha Sheriff’s Dispatch and DNR trail boss, Don Dane, before and after burning brush piles and yesterday afternoon, Don informed me that he had been working at the south end of The Springs all day mowing the Scuppernong River Habitat area on the west side of Hwy 67 down to Mckeawn Springs.

Vernal equinox on the sand prairie.

See you at The Springs!