• flowers,  haiku,  Plants,  writing/reading

    this book of nature…

    rose-colored clusters
    exploding starlike flowers
    this book of nature

    ms

    Sometimes we need to look closely to see the beauty of the natural world otherwise we may miss the gift she offers. I fall prey to that more than I like. Yet, when we do stop and look closely at the Showy Milkweed and its cluster of tiny starlike flowers, we can notice the details and intricacies of her unending creativity. I love this Book of Nature.

  • Avian,  Canada Goose,  haiku,  quotes,  writing/reading

    haiku moment…

    I didn’t know it, but I was having a ‘haiku moment’- a moment when the mind stops and the heart moves.

    Margaret McGee, Haiku – The Sacred Art

    I’ve been noticing a large amount of goose feathers in one area of the grass near the ponds. My first thought was a major conflict over stomping grounds but this morning there must have been 20 geese in that area. This suggested the large amount of feathers was due to the greater number of geese. Actually, it could be both. There were no signs of conflict this morning. All of them resting, sleeping in a calm and seemingly peaceful place. I just stood there for a moment feeling the calm, then picked up my camera and took the image offered. I’ll call it a haiku moment. It is cloudy and cool but no rain forecasted. Will meet my oldest daughter for lunch today. Hope you have a great day.

    always alert while
    seemingly peaceful and calm
    a haiku moment

    ms
  • journal,  journaling,  quotes,  writing/reading

    Vulnerable Writing

    Writing makes a person vulnerable. It opens you to public criticism, to ridicule, to rejection. But it also opens conversation and thought. It stirs minds, and touches hearts. It brings us into contact with our souls. So how can it possibly be a waste of time, an idle act, a mistake, a betrayal of truth? Who can possibly tell us not to do it?

    Joan Chittister

    I have two outlets for writing, my journal and this blog. Reflecting back, I believe journaling was a way to ask questions in hopes of understanding my confused life. I journal about my deepest fears, secrets, dreams, my spiritual journey, ask questions and use it as a way to put into words how I see and experience this beautiful world. Over time my journals have evolved into more of a letter/prayer addressed to myself, the Divine within me and my children. It has become an enjoyable daily habit.

    I also use this blog as a place of vulnerable writing. It is here I express my feelings and thoughts, use it as conversation to keep in touch with those who read my blog, and also attempt to put into words how I experience this world. I place myself in a vulnerable place when I post in both my words and images. I enjoy the risk.

    But, I also hear those voices telling me I can’t write, I have nothing important to say and only certain gifted people are writers. But, the truth is no one can tell us we are not writers. Today, I can say I’m grateful for these outlets on writing and the adventure of finding questions that lead to more questions. And so I agree with Chittister, writing makes a person vulnerable.

  • clouds,  landscape,  musings,  quotes,  writing/reading

    Middle of the Road

    Nothing of the inherent beauty of life will be found in the grasping for life’s gadgets.

    Joan Chittister

    One of the reasons I come here is because there isn’t much traffic, no sirens. I’m standing in the middle of Weld County Road 90 about a quarter of a mile from the Weld County and Larimer County lines. With no traffic there is no city noise pollution. Instead there are plenty of birds to sing for me and the breeze feels wonderful. Have a wonderful day!

  • gratitude,  landscape,  poems,  poetry,  sunrises,  writing/reading

    accept the gifts offered

    eerie sunrises the past few days as
    we continue to experience the smoke
    from the Canadian forest fires

    weather app said clear skies
    but what that really meant
    was we had no clouds

    from a nearby fence post
    a meadowlark sings benediction
    greeting the dawn of this new day

    from a place of prayer, hope
    and a heart of gratitude
    I accept the gifts offered

    ms

    Happy Birthday Sheree!!!

  • flowers,  gratitude,  Plants,  poems,  poetry

    The Gift of Knowing You

    Blue Flax along the Poudre River

    I read of a man who stood to speak
    At the funeral of a friend
    He referred to the dates on the tombstone
    From the beginning…to the end

    He noted that first came the date of birth
    And spoke the following date with tears,
    But he said what mattered most of all
    Was the dash between those years

    For that dash represents all the time
    That they spent alive on earth.
    And now only those who loved them
    Know what that little line is worth

    For it matters not, how much we own,
    The cars…the house…the cash.
    What matters is how we live and love
    And how we spend our dash.

    So, think about this long and hard.
    Are there things you’d like to change?
    For you never know how much time is left
    That can still be rearranged.

    If we could just slow down enough
    To consider what’s true and real
    And always try to understand
    The way other people feel.

    And be less quick to anger
    And show appreciation more
    And love the people in our lives
    Like we’ve never loved before.

    If we treat each other with respect
    And more often wear a smile,
    Remembering this special dash
    Might only last a little while

    So, when your eulogy is being read
    With your life’s actions to rehash…
    Would you be proud of the things they say
    About how you spent YOUR dash?

    The Dash Poem (By Linda Ellis)

    This poem was read at the Celebration of Life yesterday for our friend and loved one, Antonella (Toni). The poem does call us to think about how we want to live out all of our years in between those two significant dates of birth and death. I remember her smile, that grin which sometimes had that mischievous look. I am grateful to have received the gift of knowing you. You will be missed, my friend! 😢

    Here is a link to a recording of the author reading the poem.