a huge flock of pygmy nuthatches visited the tree just behind our place • the sun was shining both times I went walking today (June – August is known ’round these parts as “fog season.” Won’t complain, though, it sure beats the heat!) • fun moments with my son — whistling the Saint Louis Blues March and Basin Street Blues as we were walking this morning; while on the beach, he made his jacket into a sail and let the wind move him along; and playing flute/clarinet duets together this afternoon • 60+ minutes devoted to practicing drum exercises and working on my precision/speed for some of my flamenco steps
small waves roll
I close my eyes to
listen, feel the coolness of
the breeze. Small waves roll.
~ sld
delicate jewels
delicate jewels,
gossamer threads strung with pearls
of shimmering dew
~ sld
at the edges
came out late today
waves splashing at the edges
taking a detour
~ sld
in a state of reflection
today’s inspiration | Maria Pages – Firedance
pouring water onto thirsty ground
try this at home . . .
Look into your own eyes
and say this –
You matter.
Your dreams matter.
You and your dreams are worth
all the love, respect,
time, and attention
you can give.
Look into the eyes of the ones you love
and say this –
You matter.
Your dreams matter.
You and your dreams are worth
all the love, respect,
time, and attention
you can give.
Say it.
Mean it.
Find other ways
to say it.
Say it often.
Pour water
onto thirsty ground.
Watch what grows.
~ sld
molten
remnants of the day’s
brilliance lays mirrored in pools,
molten colours blend.
~ sld
while I was walking 4•27•13
The tide was out. Mist was hanging low in the hills across the estuary. Someone had borrowed the Rock. All was quiet. The air crisp. A light breeze. I love mornings like this.
I walked the length of the beach to 1st Street, then wandered through the little garden and decided I wasn’t ready to go home yet, so I walked back along the shore, nearly to the middle.
A couple of white-crowned sparrows ventured down onto the sand near me as I sat on my favourite little dock. I’ve missed seeing them hanging around the feeder I have on our back patio — every year around this time they “disappear” and then reappear sometime in the Fall.
I watched them stepping lightly, hopping on the sand. One perched briefly on a gnarled, leafless limb of a sage bush before flying back up the embankment and out of sight. I stayed there for a long time, listening to their voices drifting from the trees behind me.
day is done
Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hill,
From the sky.
All is well, safely rest,
God is nigh.
~ Taps ~
