roadside

11 Degrees felt like a mini vacation...what a delightful springlike day.

But now February is howling in protest with a strong cold wind.

sunrise

How slow we are to align the stacks of worries bouncing around in our heads

and to pile them at the feet or the Saviour. Comfort for the taking.

Relief from anxieties: those that over whelm and those that seem insignificant.

"If I say, my foot slips,

Your mercy, O lord, will hold me up.

In the multitude of my anxieties within me,

Your comforts delight my soul."

february 12

Fields lay barren and stalks stand short,

skies hang gray and skeletal trees reach tall.

Souls feel bereft and spirits seem to search,

Hope suspended and arms reach heavenward.

Even hearts feel winter

when faith feels disconnected.

Through the curtain, by a strangers hospital bed, a young pastor reads.

Psalm 102. We listen, quietly, moved.

"My days are like a shadow that lengthens,

and I wither away like grass....

Yes, they will grow old like a garment;

like a cloak you will change them,

and they will be changed.

But You are the same,

And Your years will have no end".

And at the end of our days God is there.

And when hearts feel disconnected He is there.

Always and forever.

And spring lies quietly beneath winter's cloak.

russet

Last years garden topped off with fresh snow creates an illusion of a bird's eye view of a different world. Diagonal shadows stretch across barren plains and russet trees stand tall.

I was telling a friend about my family, my siblings, and about how very much they all mean to me. There we are, linked by genes, by a love of nature, by memories and by a Faith in a heavenly Father. Thankfulness wells up in me, for them, and for the mother and father that we were blessed with and because of whom we are what we are.

Imperfect, one and all, but loved mightily.

white and black

In winter the foreground and the background

are variations of the same white

and images become wonderfully simplistic.

birds

green

The ice is wonderfully sculpted, free form,

a foreground for the coniferous green.

Eyes to see

What a large volume of adventures may be grasped within this little span of life by him who interests his heart in everything, and who, having eyes to see what time and chance are perpetually holding out to him as he journeyeth on his way, misses nothing he can fairly lay his hands on.

Laurence Stern