October 2012

I have a Gratitude Bench in the meadow and there I sit,

letting whatever wants to come, come. . .

A song sparrow making notes in the branches behind me,

the wingspan of a turkey vulture soaring overhead,

A Ruby Crowned Kinglet, swift as a fairy, comes to say hello.  He knows he is one of my favorites, and he knows where to find me.  His diminutive size says nothing about his personality.  With wings like a hummingbird, he hovers about the goldenrod, though for bugs or seeds I could not tell. 

There is no fear. 

He simply searches out what he knows he will find.

A fascinating movie he makes.  The white ring around his eye, the streak of red that makes him royalty.

He is a welcome visitor, gracing the meadow only during migration.  He has a brethren, the Golden Crowned Kinglet, which I have yet to see.  Perhaps if I wait long enough, I will create one.

The bench always fills.

.

May 2012

If the angels are smiling, the bluebirds will nest here as they have the past 4 years.

They are a glorious bunch.

A busy bunch.

Striking in their summer blue.

The sun plays tricks on their backs

making an already radiant blue shimmer

like the sea.

Catching the light, and throwing it back

A shared gift, I suppose --

That sun smiling down,

the blue saying Yes!

Thank goodness for the peace makers

January 2012

My dear snowdrops come with a history. They were gifted to me from a dear friend who lived her young life in the scilla covered slopes of England.

A life of fairies and beautiful legends.

A place where make believe and reality were content to sit side by side without all the traditional arguing you sometimes see in modern times.

No, these snowdrops are the real thing . . .

Kissed by legend,

Bound by the ancient oath,

Filled with lullabies, nurturing stories of a better time

deep, deep within their roots.

August 2010

God Bless the brave caterpillar.

Munching luxuriantly on milkweed,

Hollowing away in their emerald chambers,

beset with golden locks.

Glimmer, at last, turns to darkness

and in that hush, I wonder,

is there sleep?

Is she content to let go, to simply

close her eyes?

Perhaps she’s done this before.

Perhaps she relies on ancient stories that tell her she will emerge,

fuller, lighter, freer. Does she know the story?

Either way, she goes.

God bless the brave caterpillar.

Deep, deep, away. Into the dark.

A brave caterpillar she is.

And when all that she has known

is let go,

a pin prick of light.

Simple, Sweet, Full. Here I Am!

“I didn’t see you.”

I was here.

Within that quiet journey, the fragrance of milkweed far away,

an urging,

a calling with different ears,

a nudging of new wings. The stretch!

Emerald armour fades, locks unfasten,

and Alas, I can fly!

God bless the brave caterpillar.

Anthea and Marigold greet each and every new butterfly in the meadow. Here, the black swallowtail visits one of Anthea’s zinnias while the Great Spangled Fritilary tests his wings. An Eastern Tiger Swallowtail rests upon her hat and of course, she is old friends with the yellow sulphur who sits merrily on her shoulder.

May 2010

"Carry the song of a thousand loves on a single petal," said the Angel to the Wild Rose.

And to the Honeysuckle, she begged, "Gather the Bees and bless them."

It was May when she spoke to the Autumn Olive, "Set your fragrance upon the wind . . . Ready the meadow with mirth!"

I don't know of the other conversations, but I can assure you, the Autumn Olive said yes!

Blessed be the Meadow.

April 2010

Happy Earth Day!!

Anthea and Marigold celebrate by singing a spring rain song with their friend Starling. The European Starling still wears his beautiful spotted winter coat.























Springtime falls on waiting stem

It falls on grasses new,

Anemone, Lenten Rose,

Dainty Scilla blue -


Misty morning buttercup

Cowslips full of dew,

Over, under, all around,

Springtime falls for you!

February 2010

Snowgeese sail overhead, their voices different than Candada Geese, but equally pleasant. Equally enthusiastic. Equally Majestic.

I can't help but run alongside. I wish I could journey with them, see what they see, feel what they feel. Know what they know.












Snow comes, and snow goes, like the two sides of a bridge. On one, the current flows towards you - inhale. On the other, away - exhale. Like all good blessings, it's the coming and going that makes them doubly sweet.

Mother Nature does not hoard her snow, off it goes to nourish rivers and streams. Likewise with us. A smile, or a compliment nourishes those downstream.

Inhale - receive.
Exhale - release.

Turn around and watch. The water's still coming - don't worry about that. It loves the flow.