Catherine Eaton
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sparrowpost.bsky.social
Catherine Eaton
@sparrowpost.bsky.social
4.2K followers 810 following 2.5K posts
Writer, naturalist, myth and oak lover, museum and play goer. Pursuer of whimsy. she/her. sparrowpost.com
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'Can't get that tune
out of my head,'

can't get that tree
out of

some place in me.
And don't want to

Denise Levertov, An Ancient Tree
An Ancient Tree 'Can't get that tune out of my head,' can't get that tree out of some place in me. And don't want to: the way it lifts up its arms, opens them, and- patient the way an elderly horse is patient-crosses them, aloft, to curve and recross: the standing, the being rooted, the look as of longing. At each divide, the choice endured, branches taking their roads in air. Glance up from the kitchen window; that tree word, still being said, over the stone wall. Fall mornings, its head of twigs vaguely lifted, a few apples yellow in silver fog. Denise Levertov
November 14, 2025 at 11:22 PM
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a bright day now moving to dreamy
Cloud coverage moving in but still some bright blue sky in the distance. Two rusty red tamerisks on either side of an oak with yellow leaves.
November 13, 2025 at 8:56 PM
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Everything has either faded or fallen, but yet this witch hazel has burst into bloom.
Little yellow stars of witch hazel lining its bush branches Another shot of yellow witch hazel against a clear blue sky
November 12, 2025 at 9:33 PM
sparrowpost.bsky.social
I found this ticket stub in the pocket of an old coat and have absolutely no memory of seeing it. Since it's a Coen brothers film, a rewatch is in order.
Pale pink ticket stub from a Feb 28 2016 showing of Hail Caesar
November 11, 2025 at 1:31 AM
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November is for Jean Follain
Ombres Deux hommes discutent et leurs raisons sont celles de l'alcool, un enfant boucle son ceinturon sur un sarrau maculé de boue sèche, à son côté frissonne un arbre ; de vieilles lies stagnent près du vantail des distilleries et des relents de poisson flottent aux abords du clair couvent. Les maraîchers font claquer des baisers sur les joues de leurs filles aux pâleurs vivantes qui soignent des terreaux ; un prêtre frotte l'une à l'autre ses mains de laboureur gantées d'anciens gants noirs rougis et le personnage des rêves boit d'un vin lourd de myrte et de cyprès dans une coupe taillée à même les glaces de son cœur. Shadows Two men are arguing and their reasons are alcohol, a child buckles the belt on a jacket flecked with dried mud, at his side a tree shivers; old lees stagnate near the paneled door of the distillers and a stench of fish floats at the edges of the bright convent. Farmers make kisses clap on the cheeks of their lively pale daughters who turn the compost; a priest is rubbing his plowman's hands first one then the other gloved in old reddish black gloves and the protagonist of dreams drinks wine heavy with myrtle and cypress out of a glass cut right from his icy heart. transl. Andrew Seguin
November 7, 2025 at 12:46 AM
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Clouds shift and the light moves.
Overlooking the Fox River, it's softly undulating; yellow maples line the shoreline; mackerel sky Same view but the clouds have parted and the released sun has changed the light yellow maples to deep gold.
November 5, 2025 at 12:34 AM
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Just started this because there's no way I can say no
Cover for Graham Watson's The Invention of Charlotte Bronte
November 4, 2025 at 10:54 PM
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Tarot card sticker of The TBR
November 1, 2025 at 4:45 PM
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A most unexpected mention of Proust (and his father!) while reading Love in the Time of Cholera. The man is everywhere. #AContination25
Cholera became an obsession for him. He did not know much more about it than he had learned in a routine manner in some marginal course, when he had found it difficult to believe that only thirty years before, it had been responsible for more than one hundred forty thousand deaths in France, including Paris. But after the death of his father he learned all there was to know about the different forms of cholera, almost as a penance to appease his memory, and he studied with the most outstanding epidemiologist of his time and the creator of the cordons sanitaires, Professor Adrien Proust, father of the great novelist. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
November 1, 2025 at 3:52 PM
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a poem I adore for this early evening by Jean Follain
Les Couseuses de livrées Les couseuses de livrées s'arrêtent à la nuit venue attendant qu'on leur donne la lumière voulue. La ville est couverte de neige, alors elles chantent et le passant entend dans la rue sans oiseaux monter chaudes et bien timbrées les voix de ces filles à vêtir les valets et s'en va triste et seul à des tablées fantômes. Jean Follain The Women Who Sew Livery When night falls the women who sew livery stop and wait to be given the light they wish for. The town is covered with snow, it is then that they sing and the passer-by hears in the birdless street the warm clear voices rising from those girls who make clothes for valets and he goes off sad and alone to phantom dinners. Jean Follain, transl. WS Merwin
October 31, 2025 at 10:54 PM
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Halloween's afternoon attire
Looking up at two trees, a locust and maple, both gone yellow.
October 31, 2025 at 9:52 PM
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@mischmaschmishka.bsky.social I finally found some gingko nuts! At first I thought the woman who walked past me smelled bad but then I realized it was the tree. 😂 if it wasn't for the smell (and for you telling me about them), I would have missed them.
October 30, 2025 at 7:40 PM
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a crescendo
Green mountain sugar maple in all its flaming glory
October 30, 2025 at 6:48 PM
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Day 16. It all passes so fast.
Flaming red maple with the top leaves gone from a windy day.
October 29, 2025 at 11:51 PM
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Cathedral yellow
Golden yellow trees overhead More gold and yellow trees A pathway surrounded by yellow maples that skirts along an old cemetery. Golden yellow and green maples
October 28, 2025 at 1:03 AM
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Day 14. The maple is ablaze.
Flaming maple against a clear blue sky
October 26, 2025 at 11:01 PM
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I agree! Also have we talked about this before? I seem to remember something. Maybe about this tree from last year! I came across this photo just yesterday. It's only a few yards from the other one.
October 19, 2025 at 3:53 PM
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The yellows of autumn
Little yellow tree against a green creekside Asphalt path surrounded by a yellowing birch and maple
October 19, 2025 at 1:22 AM
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Not the best picture after poking it around with fork but you get the idea
October 18, 2025 at 10:54 PM
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Day 6. The rain has been coming and going. Red leaves are now spreading on lower branches.
maple now more red than green, glowing from the crown.
October 18, 2025 at 9:56 PM
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Day 5. Holding the color still.
Maple with a red hearted crown. Crimson leaves off on the right as well.
October 17, 2025 at 10:12 PM
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the swinging door
We say "inner world" and "outer world." but actually there is just one whole world. In this limitless world, our throat is like a swinging door. The air comes in and goes out like someone passing through a swinging door. If you think, "I breathe," the "I" is extra. There is no you to say "I." What we call "I" is just a swinging door which moves when we inhale and when we exhale. It just moves, that is all. When your mind is pure and calm enough to follow this movement, there is nothing: no "I," no world, no mind nor body; just a swinging door. SHUNRYU SUZUKI
October 17, 2025 at 10:07 PM
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One of my favorite moments in the year
October 17, 2025 at 7:41 PM
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Day 4
Maple with red at center and orange and green leaves
October 17, 2025 at 12:25 AM
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Maples don't have to be so adorable. And yet they are.
Freeman maple in a lovely perfect trees shape--a bit stout, dome-shaped, and full of golden orange leaves.
October 15, 2025 at 9:44 PM