October Sweetness

Lord, it is time. The summer was very big. Lay thy shadow on the sundials, and on the meadows let the winds go loose. Command the last fruits that they shall be full; give them another two more southerly days, press them on to fulfillment and drive the last sweetness into the heavenly wine.

Rainer Maria Rilke

View from inside a small cave in Missouri at Meramec State Park

October

Old the year grows,

Casting aside her green cloak,

Twirling in lingering twilight -

Offering her final fruits.

Blustering winds bend her limbs,

Enervating darkness calls her to sleep-

Rocking her bones into winter deep.

Hundreds of white pelicans and cormorants traveling together in Oklahoma

A broken tree cradles the moon at Sequoyah State Park in Oklahoma

Wheat tips bending toward the sun in Texas

Ariadne, the banded garden spider, basking in the light of the rising sun in Azle, Texas

The hunter’s moon descends beneath the trees in Texas

Leaves and twig reflecting in a still pond in Pier Cove, Michigan

Milkweed letting go of her feathery offspring 

Autumn Glory of Ox-Bow and lake Michigan beyond from the Crow’s Nest Trail in Saugatuck

A few feathers wave good-bye to the sun and October on the Lake Michigan Shore in Fennville

What I really want from Music: That it be cheerful and profound like an afternoon in October.

Friedrich Nietzsche

October is a month for classical music. For running into a gale force wind. For flying kites and watching scary movies and eating popcorn by the fire. It is one of my favorite months for the colors and the smells and the winds of change.

This October turned into a beautiful but busy month of travel and events and my intention of blogging twice turned into not even once; well as I write it’s still October, Halloween, in fact, but you won’t receive this until November 1st.

I hope your October was as amazing as mine. The unusually warm weather made it possible to be outdoors so much more than usual, and I got to visit my family in Texas which always makes me happy.

Thank you so much for being here! I will see you in two weeks. Really!! 😊

A Halloween treat for the squirrels - carved heirloom pumpkin 

Camping in the Rain

A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

A view of the start of Appalachia at sunset

The thing about

camping in the rain

is that when the rain stops

you go outside-

and you are lighter,

the world is lighter,

the birds are singing again

and a little joy creeps back

into your heart

and you walk the muddy path

splashing just a little bit more

than strictly necessary

smiling like you never saw the sun

until just today

when it pushed its way

past the heavy clouds

and shined.

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Rain-soaked White Cave Path at Mammoth Cave National Park, where my boots got muddy, and I smiled to be back outside.

Tall grass flattened by rushing rainwater on the hillside next to the path to the historic cave entrance at Mammoth Cave

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.

John Steinbeck

This trip was not what I expected. I expected quiet and peace and trails and warm nights reading by a campfire. What I got was a lot of rain. Thunder. Tornado and hail warnings. More rain. Flooded campgrounds. Then, periodically, the sun would come out and I would get out and go. It made every moment I spent outside really special. In Arkansas, I got to experience the warm steam rising from the ground at Hot Springs National Park on a cold day. In Tennessee, I got to run along the Mississippi River. In Alabama, I got to hike with my sister, Rita at a beautiful little trail system near her home. In Kentucky, I ventured into a deep cave (see last week’s post here) and came out with a resolution to face my fears instead of avoiding them, and I’m excited about that shift in my attitude. The trip wasn’t what I expected at all; but on reflection, I think it was exactly what I needed it to be.

Now I am home in Michigan, where all the spring flowers are blooming early. The air is cool and crisp in the morning, and the neighborhood animals (and the neighbors!) are making me feel welcome. I’m so happy to be here. Thank you for being here with me. See you next week.

a mass of lilies of the valley cover the ground in the woods near my home

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.