Tag Archives: beauty
Oh my friend how did you do that? Tree trunks are straight, tall, strong and push upward from the earth. How did you bend in a circle? I have used your image so often to encourage my own rootedness and strength to…..
Sometimes the whispers sing like a choral symphony. The harmony of spring and winter. The soloist drop of melting snow clinging to the fir tree’s fingertip. The dandelion and ant exploding spring’s tympani. The crescendo of the moon’s smile midday. A magpie’s saucy brassy chat ensuring…..
Yes Little One, I know how your spirit resonates with such images of thriving despite the challenge. Blades of grass growing in the cracks of asphalt earth, tiny buds clinging to their spring beauty, and even trees finding roots in rock. Perhaps all…..
A most gentle morning beginning errands and preparations for heavy snow. The ice had sculpted feather like designs on the windshield. I giggled to see the artwork and delicate ice drawings. I moved through the morning with mindful gentle intention as I kept…..
Oh sweet winter tree, cloaked in fog, what did you say? What did you whisper that stopped my scurrying as the ice laden fog gripped my own trunk and branches? I stopped to listen and see. My eyes tracing your trunk and branches. I…..
So much ice the night and day before, even the most tentative three steps to take my dog outside were dangerous. My dog slid like a dolphin gliding in the water. The fog cloud nestled upon the ground and the freezing temps…..
The image could well be the portent of an ominous event about to happen in a movie. The night sky and winter’s arthritic trees silhouetted against the clouds have been used so often to suggest something bad about to occur. The image…..
I squealed like a child to see the reflections. The tree so textured and infused with geometric designs. The white – was it from the sun? A light coating of an oily substance upon the water? The images mirrored how my eyes often see the…..
The sculptors of time, wind, snow, and rain have left their art upon the sandstone. Like I child I scurried between and around the boulders of art. Awe does not even hold the inconceivable wonder to see and touch such…..
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