Stop
leave the key in the door,
turn right round where you are
See, feel, hear
the wind rush through the trees
Let yourself be lifted in its flow
the great whirling above our heads
that we miss
when we only look down
Tag Archives: nature
A Voice Rises Above the Din
This past weekend, I stepped out onto my porch and heard the most glorious sound. The delicate yet undulating and overlapping squeaking of spring peepers.
Officially known as pseudacris crucifer, spring peepers are also defined as chorus frogs. And that is exactly what they were doing at my Saturday evening concert.
In this neck of the woods, we haven’t really had any sort of winter to speak of. The low spot in the sky the sun has hung from has affected me, of course, but it hasn’t been incredibly cold and we had but one (and a half?) snow event(s) all season.
Still, this harbinger of spring sets the wings of my soul aflutter.
Just as the little sparrows flitting from porch railing to the bush branches just below my dining room window do. Coming down the stairs in the early glow of dawn, their chirps sound almost as if they’ve entered the house to say hello.
In the rush of the bus stop, if I tune my ear between the hum of the engine melting the morning frost and the calls of my daughter, I can hear the scree of what must be a juvenile hawk hanging around its nest from last spring. And in the quiet rush of afternoon wind before the bus comes back, I can pinpoint chirrups high up in the tree tops.
Spring
Nature
Rebirth
Signs
The sigh of the universe
Our own intuition,
desires,
designs,
they’re all there
If we but step outside, still ourselves, and listen.
Images: Farmers Almanac, Wicked Local, Jonathan Eckerson respectively
Silver Insomniac
There’s a pool of light in the backyard
It spills over the tree tops
but appears to be carved out of the grass
an oval grotto of white,
silver amongst the shadows
If it weren’t for insomnia
I wouldn’t have seen it,
Wouldn’t have seen the cool, clear light
bright amidst the dark
Being awake at this hour seems unnatural,
is unnatural
in terms of the real world
But in the magic of these moonbeams
I am wide open
Looking for Signs of Life
A brown curled claw
skittering along the ground
Singular movement amidst
the frozen expanse of pavement
Only when you get close enough to see the fingers,
knuckles scraping the rocky surface,
can you distinguish the knobs of an oak leaf,
stem protruding like a tail
Propelled by the wind
a legion of birds wrapped in wing
a chipmunk
a squirrel,
a lizard scampering by
All alive according to the eye
But in this cold raw place between snow and spring
dry, brittle leaves are all that dance
born on the rhythm of weather patterns and wishful thinking
Smash the Taskmaster
I will not feel guilty for doing what the Spirit moves me to at any given time.
I will revel in the mindless work of plucking pine needles from fingers of moss.
I will lose myself in the monotony.
I will let my mind drift along meandering paths –
- not to the should’ve, could’ve, would’ves.
I will write for the pleasure of it,
- not the drudgery.
I will not let unfinished business ruin the relish of the deal on the table.
There is no sense in feeding our souls if we are constantly counting calories.
Just Below the Surface
The earth is still brown, the ground dull and bleak.
Leaves of brittle rust, crumpled and curled in upon themselves.
Evergreen needles even a muted hue.
But the air is different.
A hawk cries out as it soars above the seemingly dormant trees.
The deer move, the squirrels feed.
The snow looks sad in its blankets now softened around the edges.
insidecaledon.com
Piles of sand seal the seams of the roads.
Nature’s energy vibrates just below the surface.
All of creation holds its breath.
Breathe deep and release it.
Scenes from a Sun-kissed Morning
The days are warm enough, the nights cool enough that each morning my girls ask me if it’s rained. Caught in a ray of sunlight, the fog tricks you into thinking it’s misting, which it is, I suppose. The dew clings to every angular surface.
I feel like a studio photographer!
So delicate. I love the texture of the buds and petals.
Scenes from a Secret Neighbor
Walking in a woodland wonderland . . .
I have woods! In my yard! And the woodland creatures that come with!
Quite a difference from our little suburban plot.
After a hurricane, a blizzard, the taking down of six trees, and the impending purchase of a wood stove, we’ve got lots of wood laying around. Lots to chop, split, stack, etc. In the meantime, the piles have become part of the landscape. So much so, that little friends have moved in. This little guy peeking out is going to be supremely pissed when we clear everything out!
Can you see me now?
Non-superstitious Scenes from September 13
I set out on an errand with no particular subject in mind for today’s photos, but camera safely stowed in the passenger seat. Then I spied this scene on the side of the road.
I couldn’t decide between this shot, wild grasses and golden rod framing it out . . .
Or this one with the focus on the reds and reflections.
Chopping Potatoes 