Thursday, August 30, 2012
Fading
The hot summer sun, that has
bronzed our skin and stolen the
color from bright beach towels, sets
earlier in the late August sky.
Grilled meats and crispy, cobbed corn
carry summer's savory goodness to our
tables. And we dine outside just
as long as the temperature allows.
The still green paths and the
late summer blooms call to us,
promising more days of outdoor fun
and leading us gently into autumn.
Joining Melissa and my
Six Word friends who
are talking about FUN!
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The River's Edge
I’m staring at my toes through the crystal clear mountain water. I can hear the water. It’s not pounding like the falls or crashing like the waves. It’s not splashing as it does when interrupted by something foreign. It’s not gurgling as if too hot or crackling as if too cold. I reach for words to describe what I’m hearing, but they don’t come.
There’s a rhythm to the motion and sound of the river. A soothing, simple melody plays, as if for my ears only. And I breathe in. The air is clean. Pine scented, dry and hot. The sun beats down and warms my hair and shoulders while the icy water cools my feet. I don’t want to look up. I just want to memorize this moment. This moment. The moment where my pink, painted toes stare back at me from under the flowing water. They seem so trivial – a meaningless attempt at beauty. An attempt dwarfed – ridiculed – by the colorless, see-through water of a mountain river. I breathe out.
Lifting my eyes, I’m immediately transported by the dancing sunlight. Kissing the rippling water, each bright fleck of light hops, then skips then dances and twirls its way into my senses. Shades of blue, aqua and green race by. One color replaces the one before it and is then transformed by the one chasing after it. It’s so alive.
As I breathe in again, I wonder about my place in this world. And I immediately know that I’m the only wondering soul in this place. The water doesn’t ask. The rocks don’t question. The light isn’t troubled. This place, this moment….it just is. I feel myself wanting to belong, to melt into the wilderness. To fit. And I find myself wishing that my toes weren’t painted pink and that I could stay right here for a very long time. I exhale, and move my feet, kicking gently.
The water splashes around my feet, and I know that I will be better for having stopped here. I brought nothing. Nothing was asked of me. I leave nothing behind. Here I am not the giver or the doer or the caretaker. Sitting on the bank of this river, I am simply free - free to accept every good and precious gift that surrounds me.
This piece was written as part of a
Bigger Picture Blogs Writing Circle
Click on the link to learn more about these wonderful groups!
And I'm linking up with others
sharing their simple moment
at Melissa's Place today
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
I Remember....
I remember the dream fulfilled. Though I have no
memory {no conscious memory} of the
dreaming.
I remember that in those first moments alone with the
brand-new-you, I too was made new.
I remember meeting your tiny feet, and knowing them as my
own.
I remember the white of the sheets and your cottony soft
swaddle.
I remember the quiet. And the morning light filtering
through the hospital blinds.
I remember your wide awake eyes that seemed to listen and
speak all at once…and that seemed
bigger to me than half your little face. On that first, quiet morning
your eyes invited me in to stay.
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember your early words and first
steps, ever cautious, always clear and steady.
I remember the joy of walking with your
tiny hand in mine.
I remember our face game. We’d sit for hours and mirror
each other – starting with the “Oh” face, we’d move through happy and silly and
sad and mad…always ending with kisses.
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember when we met your brother. He was as noisy and
restless as your were quiet and still.
I remember his cries, his chatter, his bumps and his
bruises.
I remember watching you teach him. Anything. Everything.
I remember that the Little Mermaid grew into Dorothé, that
Pooh grew into Power Rangers and that they all turned into FRIENDS.
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember family dinners and holidays
and devotionals and airplane trips.
I remember moving. A lot. And knowing that wherever we
landed the four of us would always be there. Together.
I remember that church was “all that” and school was….well
it just was.
I remember feeding friends, and driving friends, and
finding friends sleeping on our couches.
Mostly, I remember loving all the friends and
the activity that came with them!
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember first cameras, first
trophies, first loves, first cars and first jobs.
I remember when you fit in, when you
didn’t. When you cared. And when you didn’t.
I remember when I realized that you and your brother would
always be best friends and
I remember when he stood next to you at your wedding.
I remember my early, Barbie playing days. The made
up future me loved fashion, boyfriends, and her career. But never once was
there a husband or any children. I didn’t know to dream of that. To dream of
you.
I remember discovering my sweetest dream in its
living – grateful that the keeper of dreams knew my heart better than I knew it
myself.
I remember, and live, this dream fulfilled.
This piece first published as my "Writing Me" contribution
for Bigger Picture Blogs.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Three Generations of Fishermen
Saturday, August 25, 2012
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
"The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
ans he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom."
Maya Angelou
Linking up with Tabitha for Sunday Citar
and with Ashley for Scavenger Hunt Sunday
Labels:
Nature,
Oregon,
poems,
Quotes,
Scavenger Hunt Sunday
Friday, August 24, 2012
Rocks. Salt. Fun.
A blonde and a brunette walk
into a Mexican restaurant... that's all.
I'd share the punch lines but
you'd all just stare and say,
"Guess you had to be there!"
Linking up with
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Ode to Sun's Flower {Bigger Picture Moment}
softens
and the days grow
shorter
the sun's flower
blooms
and her stems grow
tall
she rises above
the deep, green
leaves of summer
and holds the sun
until the
reds
oranges
and autumn yellows
capture our imagination
seeing her
we're reminded
not to be sad
not to mourn the loss of one season
as we turn
with expectation
towards what comes
next
Linking up at Jade's place today.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Take Me Out to the Ball Game!
Neon
History
Red Sox Nation
Painted
Action
Warm Up
Green Monster
Refreshment
Wave
Wonder
Cheer
Fans
Home
Childhood
Sweet Caroline...
Linking up with Tabitha
and
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Taking Nothing for Granted
"To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel
is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time;
to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted."
Bill Bryson
Taking nothing for granted.
Even {and especially} the familiar things.
This is good.
It is good not to miss the forest for the mountain.
It is good to wake up to the beautiful morning light.
It is good to enjoy the playful touch of the kitty's paw.
It is good to sit quietly with the puzzles in the newspaper.
It is good to enjoy a home town cup of coffee.
It will be very good if I can hang on to my traveler's eyes.
I long to see the familiar, everyday things of home
with those eyes
and live well -
taking nothing for granted.
Linking up with Tabitha for Sunday Citar
And with Ashley for Scavenger Hunt Sunday
Labels:
Oregon,
Scavenger Hunt Sunday,
Sunday Citar,
Travel
Thursday, August 16, 2012
The Joy of Favorite Photos
Focusing the eyes of my heart
Until, through my lens, I see
Nothing but the wonder I feel.
{Special thanks to Alita whose post at Paper Heart Camera inspired me to
take the time for special dates with my camera when I was on vacation!}
Sharing my Bigger Picture Moment at Hyacinth's today.
And Linking up at Melissa's for Six Word Friday.
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