Gray sky and green grass!
Barren oak trees looming over head
their leaves now lie on the frozen ground
in colors of burnt siena and brown.
You can touch the freezing air with your eyes, and smell its freshness passing by.
The December moon that peered out from the fog last night
awaits tossing into the air from your fingertips, unleashed from an open fist.
The crunching sound of tiny pebbles underfoot as you step outside,
lingers in the stillness of silence, beckoning a storm.
Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life;
And even when you find them,
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind
And look for the virtue behind them.
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light
Somewhere in its shadows hiding;
It is better by far to hunt for a star,
Than the spots on the sun abiding.
The world will never adjust itself
To suit your whims to the letter.
Some things must go wrong your whole life long,
And the sooner you know it the better.
Excerpt from a poem written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Published September 1890 in “The Ladies’ Home Journal”
I sure wish I could remember exactly when I took this picture. I am pretty sure it was around 2015. I was in the City, obviously. The picture was shot with my Se iPhone from the New York Academy of Science, which occupied an entire floor of a new post 9/11 building, from where I stood. You can see the footing of one of the Twin Towers. What a nightmarish day that was. But I remember the solidarity amongst people for days, weeks, and months, after it happened. There was a feeling of good will and civility I wish we could replicate today, and one which I hope comes back.
A new bridge
of uneven planks
built on the past
Leaves of yellow, gold, brown and ochre
Siena, red and green,
Maple, oak and ash
scattered ’round.
New seasons, they shall tread,
With fears and hopes and dreams _
Ready to be crossed.
“Why make someone a priority, when you feel you are just an option?” I don’t know the answer to this question, but I think it has to do with ‘letting go’ and being prepared to relinquish control.
Love creates a communion with life. Love expands us, connects us, sweetens us, ennobles us. Love springs up in tender concern, it blossoms into caring action. – Jack Kornfield
A love letter to Amelita.
☮️🩵💛🩵🙏🌙☪️
What a mess it is, this world of AI
spinning on a carousel of Bots.
Can’t even talk to
a human on the spot.
Cast into the Net
and whirled around in jest..
Problems, never solved
Yet we are charged, just the same.
And end up talking to Samson in Nairobi
to fix an issue on the Plains.
How is a person to stay sane?
Spring arrives..
Blue Robin's eggs,
like the color of a crystal clear lake,
are laid.
Hatchlings grow and fledge.
Summer is here..
Raspberries and blueberries
with ice cream and tea
bring cheer.
Fall is near.
This Spring brought revelations from Nature. In early April the wings of two birds whizzed back and forth in fast motion in a Rhododendron, outside the kitchen window. Et voila!; A nest appeared. Within a few days a cardinal, lounging around in the concavity of straw and hay laid three small beige eggs, speckled with dark spots. They were visible from the upstairs window.
In previous seasons hatchlings were attacked and devoured by predators. But this year we were optimistic about the bird’s survival. The cardinal came daily to warm the eggs, which eventually hatched into three tiny breathing embryos. As the cardinal kept vigil over her tiny brood, the Redbird (male cardinal) came by to drop some nourishment into the cardinal’s beak. When the hatchlings developed into nestlings, the cardinal spent less time keeping them covered and provided them treats.
Several days passed when traces of wings emerged on the nestlings and black spots on their faces morphed into real eyes. Tiny talons were detectable. Day after day they got larger and larger and opened their beaks wider and wider, in apparent desperation to receive feedings from both the cardinal and the Redbird. Occasionally they flapped their wings.
When could they be called fledglings? I wondered. The answer came one morning when I looked down into the nest to see the sleeping birdies nestled in a perfectly circular shape, within the circumference of the nest. I thought I must take a picture. There was time! Wrong again! Looking out the kitchen window downstairs, the cardinal warmed her babies with the Redbird observing nearby. Suddenly I saw the cardinal stand on the edge of the nest and the Redbird drop bits of food into the very wide open mouths of his hungry brood. Unexpectedly, the Redbird and cardinal retreated. The nestlings flapped their wings, and one at a time they stretched their legs, stood on the edge of the nest and hopped down to the nearest branch. Once they were all out of the nest, but within the bush, in unison they flew away.
The cardinal and Redbird came back to the bush several minutes after the offspring fledged, seemingly in search of something they left behind. Later in the afternoon the Redbird foraged on the lawn, but the cardinal was no where to be found, and the fledglings were no where to be seen. A month later the cardinal and Redbird have come around the yard. It is hoped that since the babes flew the nest on April 17th that the parents have been giving them food and guidance in the forest. They say this can happen several days after the fledging.
Eleven days went by since the baby cardinals fledged. The nest had been vacant, until yesterday, when a pair of Robins brought mud and straw to the nest and vigorously ground and burrowed their bodies in the open space, as if preparing it for their own. I read that repurposing a nest is not a common practice, and that most birds prefer to build a new one. This must be the case because there has been no movement for a couple days now. I think it’s safe to say that the home of the baby cardinals is now an ‘Empty Nest.
On Tiffany Creek 