Lace in the wind
Sunday, August 30, 2009
last days of summer
Thursday, August 27, 2009
creativity is good
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
God of the Open Air
God of the Open Air
By the faith that the wild flowers show
when they bloom unbidden,
By the calm of a river's flow
to a goal that is hidden,
By the strength of the tree that clings
to its deep foundation,
By the courage of birds' light wings
on the long migration--
Wonderful Spirit of trust
that abides in nature's breast!
Teach me how to confide,
and live my life,
and rest.
Henry Van Dyke
around the fire
The children have been asking for a campfire, and last night the weather was well suited for it.
Feeling rather pleased with myself I built a fire that would do any boy scout proud. Izak brought out the makings of 'smores, I found some marshmallow roasting sticks and we were all set.
Hoping for quality family time I was disappointed. Lack of enthusiasm, discouraging words, disobedience, fueling my disappointment, anger burning inside me. In frustration I doused the Kodak moment and sent everyone inside. Quality moment up in smoke.
Was there still enjoyment? Were the memories created good? or only negative? Little boy said it was good.
Lord, we are incredibly weak, prone to selfishness, to wrong motives. Our parenting needs redemption. Parent with us, sit around the table and the campfires with us. Teach us to reflect your love. Kindle devotion in their hearts.
Today is a new day, we will try again. love them, teach them, try again.
Grace.
Friday, August 21, 2009
after the rain
Always,
after the rain
comes the sun.
Grey skies
followed by vivid blue.
It is not hurricane Bill, not last week's tornado,
just the dull and wet and blah
that seems to sap me of joy,
not life threatening challenges, but the daily disappointments that hide the sunlight.
Too many projects on the go
that rob me of direction.
Lack of direction
that prevents accomplishment.
Lack of accomplishment
that discourages.
And then
out comes the sun
that dries up all the rain...
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Violent weather resides leaving an oddly colored sky and a full rainbow.
I jump in the car to find an uncluttered place to photograph and race to a nearby meadow.
The pond has overflowed and the golden ripples wrap around my legs as I wade along the path. A frog jumps ahead of me, tiny fish swim past my feet. Queen Anne's lace stands pink against the setting sun. My tripod stands in a foot of water as I try and capture the remaining light.
I am refreshed, the wind blowing discouragement far from my mind.
"this is my Father's world,
and to my listening ears,
all nature sings
and round me rings,
the music of the spheres."
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
stray
Cute as a button. A cockapoo? Roughly 6 months old. Not house broken but quiet in his cage. Yappy but affectionate.
What should we name him? Mozart? Einstein? Heise? Calvin?
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
as medley
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
unfurling
Petals tightly clenched
thoughts and dreams held close
not blooming till relinquished
as gift to the Author.
What thoughts are planted in the garden of our souls? What plans are watered faithfully?
For whom the dreams tended? For whom the obstacles pulled?
Lord help me to plant all for you and not for me. Help me not to waste time on what is not truly beautiful, what is not truly beneficial, what is not truly eternal.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
cicada
A distinctive sound of late summer is the cry of the male cicada bug. It reminds me of camping, as a child, and my dad shushing us to listen to this insect.
This cicada had just clambered out of its skin and was waiting for its wings to dry before flying off. It was on the children's playset where they could watch the process.
According to Wikipedia there are 2500 different species of Cicadas. In north America the Magicicada is the most numerous.
The adult female will lay her eggs in a slit in the tree bark. When the eggs hatch they drop to the ground and burrow 30 cm to 2.5 meters into the soil. The nymphs can stay there for 13 - 17 years before finally digging their way to the surface. They will climb onto a limb and shed their skins for a final last time. The male will bellow out his mating song, attract a female, and start the life cycle all over again.
purple loosestrife
This perennial herb was introduced to North America in the 1800s and has spread like wildfire.
It multiplies quickly in wetlands and forms dense stands that prevent the more nutritious native plants from growing hereby effecting both native plants and wildlife dependent on the more nutrient rich flora.
Although a beautiful herb it is a menace to the wetlands.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
bit of countryside
Monday, August 3, 2009
nineteen
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