(Green frog by the pond. Photo by Robin. 2006)
An old pond
a frog jumps in
Sound of water– Matsuo Basho
Another old post revisited.
Seasons
(Rain on the window. Photo by Robin)
A promise is a cloud; fulfillment is rain. ~Arabian Proverb
11 March 2012 update: I’ve been wanting to once again write small stones to go with my images, but haven’t been able to find the time because of traveling, gardening, and life in general. This week I am going to work on getting things in order so I can set aside the time as if I have a very important appointment.
In the meantime, I’ll release a few more posts from the private files. (A couple of years ago I made almost all the posts on this blog private. I’ve been wanting to switch them back to public, but don’t like to do it all at once since it means an email goes out to subscribers every time I switch one over. There are about 700 private posts. Nobody wants 700 emails from one blog.)
(Photo by Robin. West Chester, Pennsylvania. 2007)
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain,
Unravelled from the tumbling main…
~ Thomas Lovell Beddoes
(April 2006. Photo by Robin)
A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving. ~Lao Tzu
I set out on a new journey, a meditative journey, my knapsack over my shoulder, looking like the Fool dancing on the edge of a cliff, ready to take a giant leap of faith.
Why is it The Clash is running through my head?
Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
And if I stay it will be double…
I leap…
And find myself at a doorway, a portal to another land. I can clearly see the pathway, but have no idea where it will lead.
Should I stay or should I go now?
13 March 2012 update: Funny how this old post is just as appropriate for me today as it was in 2007. Life just keeps cycling from beginning to ending to beginning to… well, you get the idea. New journeys, new adventures, happening all the time.
(January 2006. Photo by Robin)
“Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer.” — Plutarch, Moralia
Early morning in Quail Hollow. The LovelyMan and I are hiking along the woodlands path, following it up the hill and then down into the hollow where it connects with the peat bog pathway and boardwalk. The woods are still, frozen in quiet on this wintry morning. The only sound is that of our footsteps crunching on the frozen leaves which cover the path.
Our words don’t freeze, but our breaths do, crystalizing as we exhale. My nose feels frozen from the inside out and my cheeks are numb. I’m thankful for the layers of clothing I put on, starting with the thermal undergarments, because other than my extremities, I’m pretty toasty. The hiking keeps me warm, too.
We reach the boardwalk and I see that things aren’t as still and quiet as I’d thought. There are raccoon prints everywhere on the boardwalk, going in all directions. The prints are still wet, standing out on the frosty wood of the boardwalk. Raccoons are nocturnal animals. This one must have been late in going to bed for the day, perhaps dousing (as raccoons will do) one last snack before settling in to sleep.
I look, hoping to catch a glimpse of the masked and dexterous creature. It is said that masks are powerful and magical tools, and that the curious raccoon is a master of disguise and transformation.
I wonder what power and magic the raccoon brought to these woods on this frosty morn. We follow in the footsteps of the raccoon, walking along the boardwalk until we are led back into the mystery of the woods.
(Photo by Robin)
I’ve always liked winter, especially the snow and ice.
When I was a little girl still filled with innocence and magical abilities, somewhere around the age of 7 or 8, I woke up in the middle of the night and looked out the window that was next to my bed to find it had snowed and was continuing to snow. It was the proverbial and cliched winter wonderland waiting for me just outside of my window. The moon was full and the moonlight poured down upon the scene making everything shimmer and glow in its silvery-white luminescence.
I hopped out of bed and tip-toed down the stairs, through the living room, through the kitchen, and to the back door. I slowly and quietly opened the door, desperately hoping I wouldn’t wake anyone because I was sure this wondrously magical night was mine and I didn’t want to share it. The door, as usual, creaked. I waited. Nothing happened. I waited some more, listening, listening. All was quiet. I opened the door some more, just enough for me to scoot outside.
I stepped out, my bare feet at first shocked by the cold. I hadn’t bothered to dress, thinking my long flannel nightgown would be warm enough. There really must have been magic in that night because after the initial shock to the feet, I never again felt the cold, not once, the entire time I was out there.
Oh, the snow! It was gorgeous! I ran out to the middle of the backyard and looked up at the moon, watching the big, fat snowflakes fall from the sky. I twirled, I danced, I laughed, and turned a few cartwheels while I was at it. I stuck out my tongue to catch the snowflakes. I danced some more, twirling and whirling like the snowflakes falling from above.
At some point during my snow dance I felt a presence there with me. I didn’t know who She was at the time, but She was there, watching over me, dancing with me, laughing with me, and even turning a few cartwheels of Her own. She was my very own Snow Queen and for that night I was Her daughter the Snow Princess.
I bathed in the moonlight and the snow with nothing between me, the moonlight, and the snow. I felt gloriously free and light, as if I could fly with the snow. The cold never touched me.
I’m not sure how long I stayed out there dancing in the snow and the night. It felt like hours, as if time had stopped for me so that the night could go on for just a little longer than usual. When I finally made my way back to bed, I thought I’d never get back to sleep. The bed was warm and comfy, but I was invigorated from my time in the snow. Eventually I did fall asleep, lulled into the deep reaches of dreamland as I watched the snowflakes outside of my window.
I fell in love with winter that night. It’s a love that’s lasted through all the ups and downs of childhood, my teenage years, and my adulthood. Every winter I look forward to the first good snowfall and remember the magical, wonder-filled night when I was blessed with the gift of dancing with the Snow Queen.
(Tea Time. January 2006. Photo by Robin.)
Strange how a teapot can represent at the same time the comforts of solitude and the pleasures of company.
~Author Unknown
While I’m enjoying our sabbatical here in the ‘burbs of Philadelphia (so much to see and do!), I do miss our home in the Bogs. The apartment here is plain and drab, the only really colorful decoration is a purple feather boa I was gifted with by a good friend at the Mummers Parade on Saturday. Because this is a temporary home, I’m not sure I’ll spend much time in decorating. As a result, it tends to feel a little like living in a hotel. That’s not so surprising really. The building used to be a hotel and has been renovated into apartments.
The LovelyMan (aka LM aka my husband) and I bought a house in the Bogs that was in bad shape. It took six months of tender loving care to transform it into the bright and colorful home it is now. Our youngest son is currently living there and taking care of it for us until our return sometime in the summer months.
The photo above was taken in our kitchen which is full of light in the mornings, a lovely place to sit and sip on a cup of good tea. I’m a loose leaf type of tea lover and have jars of the wonderful stuff lined up on the counter. One of my morning joys is to look over the jars of tea and decide which one I will treat myself to that day. Will it be the oolong? How about the jasmine green tea? The yerba mate looks good. Or maybe the darjeeling. The Japanese green sencha is another wonderous possibility.
At night I have the herbal teas to soothe me. A beautiful chamomile, a lovely rooibus, a sweet honeybush, or some homegrown mint. I have a mint garden in front of the house, easily accessible from the kitchen. There’s peppermint, spearmint, an apple mint, and my favorite, pineapple mint.
We have a large pond (1.5 acres) and a small bit of property with woods, meadows, and hayfields in the Bogs. I miss being so close to nature. Now that I’m walking more, I hope to get out and find a park or two nearby. One nice thing about this town is that there are plenty of trees for me to get to know.
This move, I discovered, was part of the stress I carried in my lower back. As much as I sometimes yearn for my home in the Bogs, I’m determined to make this sabbatical another magical adventure in my life.
Note: This is another re-released old post.
Bountiful Healing 