Sunday Quote

God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence...we need silence to be able to touch souls.

- Mother Teresa

Drive Bys and a great story

first I drive by this explosion of yellow on my way to work each day, love long tangled wild forsythia and thank you whoever thought to plant it and brighten up a dull stretch of road.



Every spring I wait for the most perfect Magnolia tree to bloom, the one in front of the temple which they so thoughtfully do not trim down even though it blocks their pathways through the lawn. It is a stunning tree and I always have poetry in my head throughout its first budding, blooms, and drifting of petals turning to stout green leaves.



Lady who waved frustrated arms at me - of course, I was going to stop my car when I saw this fellow in the road. And my car was not blocking yours whatsoever proven by the ease with which you drove by me shaking your head. Got a snap of this little guy anyway as he hid in the bushes.



I kept seeing something huge and unusual out of the corner of my eye when I would drive home and one day I just turned up the road. Didn't think it would be giant stone statues of Asian art looking horses. Two of them on a wide lawn. The house not so mansion-y as you would think which I found even more inspiring that they thought to plunk down these cool beasts in their space.















Great video from the Huffington Post on a very old, sad, and scared homeless dog named Fiona that got a second chance in life thanks to these remarkable people. You will weep and then be so joyful at this transformation and such acts of kindness. I wish this was on the news instead of the grinding shootings and war and rip-offs and such that make me wonder if there is any good left anywhere. There is - just no one is putting it on the news - and they really should. Every lead story should be an act of kindness and humanity so we would get our priorities right. You hear that, news people?

Sunday Quote

I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.

- John Burroughs

Inside Magnolia Heaven

It was worth the big fat tears rolling down my face, some allergy reacts to this explosion of Spring by giving me weepy eyes and a sinus headache. But standing underneath this huge Magnolia in the park - cannot tell you how heady the scent was. I felt like I was in a secret pink-petaled tree house, fallen petals beneath my feet and the wonderful gray knobby limbs like elephants kicking at the sky; how I love these gorgeous trees.

dusk to dark

Sunday Quote

"Now I am well aware that being raised by wolves can be considered an undesirable start in life," she began. "But truly, which of us do not have obstacles to overcome?"

- MaryRose Wood, The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place.

Bunnies seem to always pop up...

and this one is named Thumper, big surprise there. Walking through the park and I see him ever so peacefully loping about, four little girls in attendance. When I admired him, they picked him up for me to pet and then thrust him into my arms. He was very calm, more than me as I remembered bunnies we have owned and how one named Cabot was quite the biter. Not this guy. He came when the girls called him, stayed put by them, all without a leash. A charming encounter of the very sweet little girls and their picture book worthy cute pet.

Trees, late winter

Honoring an Old Tree

On a recent walk I noticed the big orange X on an old tree indicating its days are numbered...struck by the personality of the tree, I came back the next day with camera and captured a few views for posterity.

Sunday Quote

The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm.

― Aldous Huxley

New Writing and Three Hearts

A poem and a short story of mine appearing in the Spring issue of
The Whirlwind Review, your link here. Two stone hearts and one tree bark heart from my walk yesterday where the pedometer logged in (eventually by the day's end) 10,000 steps plus and I realized it takes a lot of steps to add up to 10m. A lot.

Like a bird on a wire...

I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch
He said to me, "You must not ask for so much"
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door
She cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

Oh, like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free

Ah, Mr. Cohen. This photo was not so easy to take with the husband calling up to the bird, look out bird, she is trying to steal your soul with her camera. Quite the card, him.

Sunday Quote

The spiritual life does not remove us from the world but leads us deeper into it.

- Henri J. M. Nouwen

Art courtesy of the Long Island Sound

And the serendipity of a found heart on a rock to celebrate Leap Year!

Sunday Quote

There is no failure except in no longer trying.

-Elbert Hubbard

The Last Cake

The Don't Worry, Be Happy cake also known as the Don't Worry, Be Happy, Dammit! cake or the Irony cake as the baker of the happy cake is deeply unhappy and cursing up a blue streak as it is sliding into oblivion. I think I didn't let the cake cool enough before I put the layers (3) together. And someone took the packet of long wooden skewers I was counting on in case of slidage (I am assuming the birthday boy himself is guilty of this as he is a big marshmallow over the stovetop flame fan). Will the cake be in one piece by the time he gets home at 8? This last cake on his golden birthday (same age as date of birthday according to Urban Dictionary, my pal Joan says in Spain it is called something as well and is good luck) is the LAST cake for the oldest son and not up to creative standards perhaps as some of the earlier ventures. Still. 23 on 23, a carrot cake with dyed yellow cream cheese frosting sliding into oblivion - the good thing? Cake, even sliding in Titanic proportions, still tastes good.

old stomping grounds

Warm day on Sunday, took a stroll with the husband and the youngest to Manor Park. My childhood years going to this same park blend in with memories of my children at various ages teetering on the rocks and running across the ledges while I call out a warning; the adults walking on the sedate lawns, the usual route from one gazebo to the next, now a bit gingerly, the careful footing on the rocks I used to gazelle across. The way memories shift and blend is kindred to water on rocks, variations on a theme both familiar and unfathomable, on a sunny Sunday with a mind to get the scent of salt water and a handful of sunlight.