Just For You

The Bath

The weather outside is frightful and there is no fire nearby for delightful...but the birds do not seem to care and love taking a bath in the heated bird water dish!  This little gray Titmouse seemed to not mind how he looked.
  

Merry Christmas!

Those Winter Sunsets

Winter sunsets come early these days but tend to last almost as long as summer sunsets.  The sun and earth tend to dance the same in this long marriage of circles.  But I think they somehow have a colder-gold look about them in the winter months.  If there are no clouds, the sunset is bright and clean and clear.  When there are clouds throwing veils against the blues of our sky, nature takes the opportunity to dip her brush into the pinks, the fuschias, the corals, and the salmons.  She works in watercolors and not oils.  When shadows begin to flow across the highest part of the sunset, nature pulls our her drawer of purples and lilacs and dark wines and then pauses and waits while we admire her handiwork.

Above the lights of our Christmas Tree are reflected in the window against a recent sunset.

Red and Thorny

This photo is from the first (and thus far last) snowfall which came in one night and stayed most of the day. It was wet and sloppy and made everything bow down before its beauty. I had to hurry outside to catch the angle of the rising sun against these wild raspberry bushes at the edge of the woods.

Not the best focus, but I have others to sort through! I love the red of the thorny branches against the snow.

December Morning

Softly and gently
The morning begins 
Holding out fresh hope. 
Light waits at the sweep 
With a sanguinity
and dewy cool smile.
It reassures us
offering a bare
and mist hidden hand
to invite first steps
over the passage
when we cannot see
into the reveal,
the clearing ahead.
Faith is the steady
mettle holding us
balanced, straight and tall.
Faith in our selfhood.
Faith in our knowledge.
Faith in our placement
in the universe.
Faith in the advance
of a perfect plan.

This Tree

When we first moved to these woods this beech tree was half the size it is now. It stands watch near the path to the dock with long gray fingers spreading into the soil, resembling an elephant leg with slender toes.  This soldier fights for sun as it competes with several larger and older oak trees.  The beech hangs on to its bronze leaves far longer than the other trees and while it crackles like cellophane in the sharp fall winds, it hangs on tight to the leathery beauty well into winter.  The leaves are smooth and almost like sculptures or manmade works of art rather than living photosynthesis machines.

The gray, smooth bark is a favorite for people to carve initials proclaiming love for someone.  This permanently scars the tree, and I many times wonder if their love lasted a quarter of the life of the tree.  This tree is ours and is spared such mutilation.  There are better ways to sustain and prove love.

I am awed by the way it captures the autumn angle of the sun and turns a brilliant bronze.

Predictions

At first, there was some confusion. An earlier than planned departure to the city to avoid dangerous sleety roads resulted in moving over dry roads with fewer cars than normal. Waiting for dinner and a school play and the start of the predicted snowfall resulted in a cold but dry nighttime walk through the neighborhood to the nearby elementary school past the houses with bright holiday decorations. Greetings in the early morning on my laptop said: "Welcome, it is now snowing where you are." This all was very confusing as there were absolutely no white stars falling from the sky. We packed our overnight bags to head back home mid-morning just as small dots of dandruff danced down from the sky. Predictions kept saying 2-5 inches, and the further south we drove getting closer to home, the predictions finally began to come true.  

Because the roads were mostly dry we took a drive down some country roads before heading home.  I like the bones of abandoned homes and old tobacco barns outlined in newly fallen wet snow.

These black birds were on the country road eating something and flew up to the trees when we drove by.

Listening and Looking

Why can nature create chaos and the mess looks so perfect and peaceful and progressive?  It is as if I stumbled unto a waltz in perfect time.  Everything seems to be in the right place and it is certainly the right time and ready for the next whirling change.  We can learn so much from nature if we just stop and look and listen.