The scent of onions and garlic linger,
ghosts of last night’s dinner
roaming through the house.
A small stone for Day 19.
Photography
perched on a stool in the kitchen
bare feet gripping the rungs
hands embracing the warmth of a cuppa
I watch the snowflakes bob and boogie
to the music on the radio
Sheets of rain dash across the surface of the pond, driven by bursts of wind. Streamlets of mud snake their way downhill, bleeding into the water, great brown blotches spreading out across the grayish-green reflection from the sky.
Sparkles of red, blue, and gold twinkle on the pond. The birds are sunning themselves in the bare trees, trying to catch a little warmth on this frigid morning. Bright, beautiful sunshine and blue skies have replaced the clouds. Feet of ice dip their toes into a stream of blue water. Not everything is frozen.
eyes closed
warm water
cascading
over my head
and body
I am standing
beneath a waterfall
on a tropical island
where snow and winter
never visit
A small stone for Day 14.
If you walk under a cat
Or let a black ladder cross your path
On Friday the 13th
You will receive seven mirrors
Of broken luck.If you make a wish by chance
Or enter a frog’s house
On Friday the 13th
A chimney sweep will come true.Three butterflies in a circle
Will bring good luck to a four-leaf clover
But only if you find them
On Friday the 13th.
Just a bit of (lame) silliness for my 13th small stone.
the steady drip of rain
against the window pane
ice melting, drizzling
pouring downhill
merging with the pond
one drop, one body
of water
at a time
Today’s small stone.
The sun rises from behind the neighbor’s house,
revealing and warming the trees at the back of the pond
in a blaze of golden-orange light.
Darkness lurks in the woods.
*The title for this post is courtesy of the spam I cleared out this morning. One of them referred to my blogs as “merely magnificent.” I love the contradiction in terms.
Silvery moonlight streams through the window
and onto the sticky mat
Where I am
Becoming
Space
Expanding
Gliding over the ice
Sohum
(I am that I am)
Riding the moonlight
How to hike in the Bogs: Take deep, deep belly breathes. Right down to your toes. Place one foot in front of the other. Step, slip, slide, pull, be grateful your boots are so firmly attached you can escape the suction of the mud trying to draw you down into the wet earth without leaving a boot or two behind. Smile. A lot. Sing. Listen to the birds answer your song. A walking stick is useful but not essential. Accept and enjoy the mud, the puddles, and the overall bogginess. Stop and admire the reflection of the sun and tree branches in the melting ice. Walk slowly. Magic happens. You’ll miss it if you move too fast.
Daily walks are an adventure lately. Between the record setting rainfall in 2011 and the melting of the foot or so of snow we had last week, the ground is soggy. The top photo was processed in Photoshop. It’s one of those trails through the woods where magic happens.
Sun and tree branches reflected in the melting ice.
Bountiful Healing 