The temperatures took a bit of a tumble last night. It was -12F on the back porch at 6 AM. I don’t remember many nights below zero in March. But then again, it’s only two days in.
The owl at Joseph and Phoebe Taylor’s house in Belgrade
Today I thought more about my encounter with the Barred Owl (Strix varia ) yesterday, Nearly twenty years ago I was informed by a long-time Belgrade, ME resident that I was “the reincarnation of Joseph Taylor”. Taylor was a well-known, Belgrade orchardist (1804-1882) who introduced a number of apple varieties and lived in a hand-made, stone house that featured a stone owl mosaic in one wall. A Barred Owl no less!
Friends had come for dinner the night before and asked me about how I fell in love with Maine and chose to move here. I recounted the story of my ‘relationship” with Joseph Taylor. Not that I believe in reincarnation, but who knows? I haven’t heard a more plausible explanation for why I had this instant connection with Belgrade at age 11. I could plunge into the many ways that Taylor and I are connected despite living nearly two centuries apart, but suffice it to say that we both love apples and love to work with stone. He had a stone owl in his wall, and we have one in our chimney.
The day after this conversation with friends, a Barred Owl appeared outside the window. Could it be JT himself, finally coming to check me out? Although in yesterday’s post I made an effort to translate a bit of what he said, could it be that not a word was even necessary?
As Mother Goose put it:
The wise old owl sitting in the oak
The more he heard, the less he spoke
The less he spoke, the more he heard
Why can’t we all be like that wise old bird?
With apologies to Mother Goose, I could add:
The wise old owl sitting in the cedar
Quietly by the old bird feeder
Can you imagine my surprise
When he looked into my eyes?
The wise old owl from Belgrade, Maine
Joseph Taylor was his name
He came to visit yesterday
He had a couple things to say.
He spoke to me about the plight
Of focusing on wrong and right
He turned his head without a sound
“It’s not so hard,” he said, “just look around.”
“Listen carefully to the bees
The birds, the bugs, the apple trees
They all have a lot to say
That will guide you on your way.”
The wise old owl understood
That peacefulness is always good
“Be kind,” he whispered, “don’t think too much
Spread love to everyone you touch.”
The wise old owl sat on the branch
By design or maybe chance
He didn’t tell me where to go
He just stopped by to say hello.