An online journal sharing my interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, spirituality and asking deep questions.
The wind has blown hard both Tuesday and Wednesday, gusts up to 40 mph. Tree limbs are strewn all over, sections of fence are down, trees are bare naked, my hair’s a mess and most of our leaves are now somewhere in Kansas. We are suppose to have a reprieve from the wind today, but it is cold, then rain/snow mix on Friday. I am heading to Phoenix this Sunday for two weeks with my family. I just may go barefoot down there. 🙂
When people say Photography is not Art what they actually mean is THEIR photography is not art. – James Elliott
“Churches are good for prayer, but so are garages and cars and mountains and showers and dance floors.”
Anne Lamott
As the sun moves more to the south it begins to rise between the two buildings on the opposite side of the pond. I like this time of the year when I sit in my wicker rocker and have quiet time before beginning the day. The sunrise adds to the day. I am also grateful I have a warm house to wake in, some people don’t. Hope you have an Awesome Day!
Now we’re in trouble.
“The biggest gift you can give is to be absolutely present, and when you’re worrying about whether you’re hopeful or hopeless or pessimistic or optimistic, who cares? The main thing is that you’re showing up, that you’re here and that you’re finding ever more capacity to love this world because it will not be healed without that. That was what is going to unleash our intelligence and our ingenuity and our solidarity for the healing of our world.” ― Joanna Macy
And, never worry about what people think of you when they watch you with your camera in hand.
We had our first snow fall during the night. Probably need to call it a dusting but it is loaded with moisture. After walking to the coffeehouse I can see the blue sky as the storm moves out east. Reports are that it may increase in intensity as it moves on to the plains. I enjoyed the walk this morning except for the gust of wind that penetrate my clothing.
The leaves had a wonderful frolic.
They danced to the wind’s loud song.
They whirled, and they floated, and scampered.
They circled and flew along.
The moon saw the little leaves dancing.
Each looked like a small brown bird.
The man in the moon smiled and listened.
And this is the song he heard.
The North Wind is calling, is calling,
And we must whirl round and round,
And then, when our dancing is ended,
We’ll make a warm quilt for the ground.
Anonymous