A Pile of Rocks

Next to love, balance is the most important thing.

John Wooden

I named my rock piles…

The Light Spirit

with a big-hearted base.

The Little Universe

Light and dark

sun and moon

sand, stone and feather.

The Bird Bath

a little white bird

found a place to land

and a bath

to cool in

The Running Man…

it’s precarious,

running.

one foot touching down,

one mid-air,

one arm forward,

one back.

Gravity and momentum

briefly

in balance

propelling you

forward

through space.

Everything changes, even stone.

Claude Monet

Balancing rocks, and finding rock balances, or cairns, of others is one of the pleasures of living near a rocky beach. Last month, while visiting Mackinac Island, I found a book called The Rock Balancer’s Guide by Travis Ruskus. It’s a meditative approach to rock balancing. I’m just learning. Some of the stones I find here, on Lake Michigan, called lightning stones (or Septarian), often appear to have images of familiar things etched into their surfaces. I love finding them and using them in a stack. It makes each rock pile like an ephemeral message from me to the universe. And great fun. You should try it!

There are a couple of updates to my schedule I wanted to share. Firstly, I'll be scaling back my blogging to once a month during the summer to dedicate time to updating my website galleries, creating prints for my physical gallery, and fulfilling commitments to others.

Secondly, for anyone near Saugatuck, Michigan, I'm organizing a one-day bookbinding workshop in late September 2024. More details to come.

I will see you again on July 19, and on the third Friday of every month through the end of October. Thank you so much for being here.

Deer’s Leap

0possum

… beauty lies even in humble, perhaps ugly things, and the ideal, which bypasses or improves on nature, may not be truly beautiful in the end.

Albrecht Durer

In the tall unmown grass, the little opossum approached my window.

Snuffling and chewing, he ate while I watched, and a tick nibbled on his ear.

His tiny hand-feet almost danced across the lawn as he wandered back into the woods.

Sometimes small things lead to great joys.

Shmuel Yosef Agnon

I had been home for two days after a long road trip. I was a little tired; a little lonely. I was staring out the window in the early morning, when a movement caught my eye. An animal, larger than a squirrel, but smaller than a cat, appeared from under the hemlocks, sauntering across the back lawn. I couldn’t tell what it was at first. It had a shiny grey coat. It had big, beautiful black eyes. Its head was down, nose to the ground, rear end high and it was lightly stepping through the wet grass. At first, I thought it was a woodchuck, but when it came close, I realized it was an opossum. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one so clearly - but then, I never see them in daylight. Usually, I see their shining eyes in the headlights when I come home at night. They always seem creepy and ugly then, sneaking around in the dark. I didn’t know they did that because they see better at night. I didn’t know much really. I didn’t know they can climb trees, using their tails to help grip the branches or keep them from falling. I didn’t know they are not vulnerable to snake venom, so they can prey on poisonous snakes. I didn’t know they eat many garden pests. I didn’t know their back “feet” are more like hands, with opposable thumbs. I didn’t know what good company they could be to a lonely traveler in the early morning. What a blessing.

If you want to learn more about opossums, click here.

Thank you so much for being here.

And later that day, another blessing…a peaceful moment by the lake as the sun dropped through the scattered clouds.

Walking Into Winter

This is the solstice, the still point of the sun, its cusp and midnight, the year's threshold and unlocking, where the past lets go of and becomes the future; the place of caught breath.

Margaret Atwood

Winter Sun

Beneath heavy clouds

blazing brilliant light it dropped

then fell out of sight

Saturday -a beautiful expanse of dune grass blew gently in the wind. (Saugatuck Dunes)

Sunday over ripe berries hung from a bare branch…but those looked like tiny buds below them.

Monday, a dark-eyed Junco sat still for a moment looking right at the camera

Tuesday, a neighbors Hydrangeas; blossoms dried, faded and gone to seed…delicate as paper

Wednesday in the garden, a dried up rhododendron blossom that Dr. Seuss could have drawn.

And on the beach, a pair of pigeon’s prints in the sand by Lake Michigan - as if he just stood there, looking over the water and then flew off

Today - Winter Solstice, the sun was muted by cloud cover but still came through - looking more like the moon.

Movement is good for the body. Stillness is good for the mind.

Sakyong Mipham

This is a time of year that often gets me down, so I did a lot of walking and looking for little signs of light and life. A little color, a little sun, some flowering plants with seeds and buds waiting for spring, a couple of footprints in the sand, the stars in the morning, the cold crisp air and crunchy frost-covered grass under my feet - all these things get me outside of my mind as well as my house and those are both good things. And today the days begin to grow longer again! Happy winter solstice- and Merry Christmas if you celebrate!

Thank you so much for being here! I will see you next week!

The morning sky on the shortest day. Within the darkness, there is the promise of light to come.