Archive for the ‘Summer’ Category

One can only suppose that the colours seen here on this ledge

drowning in pine needles will be available for painting the den or kitchen.

There will be names like Fallen Pine Needle Sienna and much debate

will take place about how to match the trim – Cracked Granite White, perhaps?

It is just another unsuccessful way we try to bring nature into our lives,

instead of taking our lives out into nature.

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Scientists say the Earth’s age is around 4.5 billion years old.

Others have it pegged at thousands of years, while some say the Earth

has always been here. Any way you look at it, the Earth has been around

an impressive amount of time. And even though it wears its age well,

there is no way to tell how long the Earth will continue on.

But by carefully observing the signs the Earth gives us

we can see its health and, ultimately, our own.

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Look down on the ground and see stars.

Look up in the sky and see flowers.

They are there if you turn off your mind,

open your consciousness

and look with intent.

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The Luna moth emerges from its cocoon in the morning.

It takes two hours to prepare its wings for flight. Then it has seven days

to find a mate to produce the next generation.

And then it dies.

This hauntingly beautiful creature does not feed, having no mouth.

Its sole purpose is to continue the species;

that, and to grace us with its poignant existence.

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This lady slipper will soon bloom into a spectacular show of colour and form

that will stop travellers in their tracks to marvel at the sight.

But even now, before the blossom, there is a

delicate beauty worthy of appreciation.

Celebrate subtle beauty as well as the spectacular.

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On a stretch of beach left behind in the path of a glacier, stones have

sprung up like static wildflowers in a grassless meadow. The water

and the weather are unable to move the stones; move them quickly,

anyway. So they loiter, shifting this way one era, that way the next.

Their minutes are marked by years, their hours by decades,

their days by centuries.

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There is no such thing as a bad hair day in the forest. Is your mop a

tangled mess, far beyond the penetrating abilities of a comb?

Would your style be best described as a tumbleweed, teased with a

salad fork? Are your roots grey, or even green? Who cares?

You are in a place where beauty is defined as interesting form

meeting captivating light. Fashion doesn’t exist here.

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It is easy to imagine finding peace at the end of this ribbon of dirt road

through pristine woods. It is more difficult to realize that there can be

peace at the end of any road. And the most difficult to realize is that

the greatest peace can be found just traveling along the road.

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Hard Heart


A heart of stone floats in a swirl of grey beach sand; its cracked,

stained and battered form is supported by the lyrical designs of the sand,

pushed and shaped by waves and wind. With each beat, the hard heart

is whittled down. Eventually it will be nothing but a grainy memory,

making new patterns in the shifting ether that once held it so securely.

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Tide Time

A shoreline rock is being swallowed whole by the steady push of the tide;

an advancing line of water bending over itself as it rises up the side of

the boulder. Time passes in a variety of ways, a variety of speeds.

The edge of tidal water is one measure – one cog in a universal

timepiece – that truly metes out our time here on Earth.

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