Friday, December 6, 2013

"Only when I gave my fame to the Hazel shade did the true song come"- by Paul Mathews
Bringing together this work of art is about a deep song forever being sung within me I hope you get a glimpse of The bay of Fundy here as she lives in my soul and I hope with all my heart that you can find ways to visit her often for she is part of the healing ways of Nature.Her peoples come from the four corners of the earth.The Bay of Fundy has been a living part of my being alive now for over 60 years and though cars houses and all things on earth around me have changed she remains steadfastly secure as a being intertwining  heaven and earth.
So I close the singing of her praises,in grateful heart for all the deep and eternally blossoming memories,the friendships,and the knowledge.

Open the mirage that calls you- Philip Lamantia, from Becoming visible

Mary's Point, Riverside NB.    Picture compliments of Dr.Mary Mikea, given to Caithleen when at a visit to Mary's Point,at the beginning of the writing of Bay of Fundy Country.Dr.Mikea passed away in Feb12th,2014

Three things which are always increasing:  the light of fire,the intelligence of truth,the life of existence- these are victorious over all things and are the end of darkness.    Welsh Triad

Tide Pool:   by  Harry Thurston
Pond scum like a cow's hide
hollow without it's animal inside;
limp with no cage of bone to hang upon
                                                                                  Pulp of marsh grass,fabric of cells,
                                                                                  a scared archives waits for meaning-
                                                                                  flourish of bullrush:        Ideogram.

Tides rise as fast as one inch to two inches a minute in July

Brier Island,Bay of Fundy Coastline and a few friends

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Camping at Cape Enredge NB Fundy Shores

He and She
"Should one of us remember ,
And one of us forget,
I wish I knew what each will do-
But who can tell as yet?"

"Should one of us remember,
and one of us forget,
I promise you what I will do-
And Im content to wait for you,
And not be sure as yet"

By: Christina Rosetti

The hope I dreamed of was a dream
Was but a dream; and now I wake,
Exceeding comfortless , and worn and old
For a dream sake.

I hang my harp upon a tree,
A weeping willow in a lake,
I hang my silenced harp there, wrung, and snapt
For a dream sake.

Lie still, lie still my breaking heart;
My silent heart lie still and break:
Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed
For a dream's sake.

By: Christina Rossetti

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

W.B. Yeats

"We can make our minds so still that beings gather round us,that they may see.It may be their own images, and so live for the moment with a clearer, perhaps a fiercer life because of our quiet"


Wild Life

the peoples along the bay of Fundy feed the deer , growing up there in the 50's it was more a matter of putting food on the table,work has become more easier to obtain in the surrounding city centers,like Moncton,Halifax and St.John.

My Grandson, Liam in the Waters

Blackberry Pickin


Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfulls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. 
Submitted: Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Saturday, September 14, 2013

On Brier Island hed of Fundy Bay off the headwaters of Bay of Maine.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Estuaries of ideas stream in and flow out, while imaginations perforate the expanse consciousness

Saturday, August 10, 2013

So now Im city bound
All so far away from my beloved birds, mountains and rivers
Not one day since we came together have I looked at another

Not one night have I moved where
Your curves so warm gather
Feel you silence out over the waves
Of life reaching reaching reaching
Into the roots of the trees
Deep into boughs of the trees

As high as a thousand tamberians  can sound up over the hills
The quickening flow of skirts cooling
The faces of old men
Old men cooling the loins of young women
Young women making bread for old women
Old women milking cows for the babies of the world

One night on the road a few hours out from Folly Mountain sitting in the quiet of the night.Caithleen Carter Steeves

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Houses of The Bay of Fundy shore

Emily Dickinson

I feel that Emily would have loved the Bay of Fundy and would have perched in many a widows peek to scroll out a poem or two.Grand houses and orchards along the Bay.

Have you a little brook in your heart
Where bashful flowers blow
And blushing birds go down to drink
And shadows tremble so      E.D.

caring of the vine

In London the is a man caring for a vine
Time makes truth of what appears to be
Unfathomable, a magnum opus
There is no reason,no purpose
Simply the caring of the vine.           Caithleen C
arter Steeves  

My nosegays are for captives;
Dim long expectant eyes;
Fingers denied to plucking
Patient till paradise

To such if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand
And I no other prayer........E.Dickinson.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

along these shores

Along these shores when I was a girl we ate.goose tongue greens clams and sandfire greens.Shad,smelts and mackerel.I never tire of gazing out the flats to the Great Mystery beyond.

The Second Coming

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of i{Spiritus Mundi}
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at laSt,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? 

Friday, July 19, 2013

Growing up along these shores we became familiar with stories,songs,fiddles,piano,harmonica and accordion or the squeeze box,my Grandpa Herman called it.  We gathered weekly for such entertainment.Stories about tinkers,Indians, and ghosts were common among the  old ones, who loved to keep their land and its people alive into the next generation.
The last walking salesman was the Raleigh's man, who walked each month through our dirt roads carrying and old leather suit case.
We were told to play very carefully along the woodland pathways behind our house,and not to walk on the Indian graves there.I always felt connected to them and would look for them as I went through the woods to Gran Fenton"s house.I would learn 40 years later of my true nature as an adoptee.My great, great Grandmother and Grandfather  on my mother Carter's side were Amerindian.Living alomg the shores of the St.John river.
We hope you enjoy your visit here and make time in your life to appreciate nature along your life path.May you walk in beauty all your days always.  Caithleeen