Tag Archives: change
Though I confess winter’s cold and snow makes traveling difficult, winter is my season. It is the season for my eyes. Nature is naked. Perfect imperfection dances in twisted branches, dry plant stalks, and dried grass. Spring’s glory hides so…..
A day of paradox. Sunshine turned gray. Thunder boomed. Snow fall whooshing parallel to the ground. Thunder boomed. Sleet joined the dance of wind swept snow. Silence. Golden sunshine and blue skies. Buds drained of life and color cradling water manifested in drops, ice,…..
Welcome my friend autumn. Welcome to your reminder that without an app, electronic reminder, nor swayed by even time itself, you arrive. Welcome to your reminder that even stillness and drawing down can be glorious. Welcome to your reminder that even that which is cast…..
The morning so unbelievably crisp and almost cold. “Fall!” was the squeal of my heart as I bowed to the moon and Venus dancing in the pre dawn sky. I pondered the morning’s reading on impermanence and change against the texture…..
Last year’s growth, weathered by winter, bends the stalk with its weight. Spring’s new growth dances up the stalk. Can one deny the beauty of them both? Can one deny the juxtaposition and contrast is in itself the beauty? Oh that we could see the…..
Two years ago, this same day, this was the image that caught my eye. The drought offered little nourishment for the earth. Today, where these two flowers, that would not be, offered…..
Anger and frustration have held on to me the past couple of weeks. A certain situation has truly provoked my otherwise gentle little heart. The situation has raised a most interesting pondering. How to approach a difficult situation? I can sit and…..
Make no mistake, sometimes recovering a sense of growth feels more like a shredding than renewal. But neither should we make the reverse mistake and fail to see the piercing of wholeness.
I pondered what image would dare to capture the emergence of autumn’s equinox. Then I observed the squirrel feverishly eating and gathering the seed I put out this morning. He made me laugh and then I saw his…..
A prickly tumble weed not yet released to tumble. The hardness of stone. When touched by the sun gift the softness of a palette and art. Oh that the sun would likewise touch my often prickly hardened presence.
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