December Trails

If not for reverence, if not for wonder, if not for love, why have we come here?

Raffi

Through the looking glass

A symmetry of turtles

(Tyler State Park, Texas)

a long dock leads

to an imaginary lake

Giants in ballroom dresses

Loom over the park

Lake Bistineau, Louisiana

Blue hour on the bayou

a great beauty in the distance

a small one close at hand

stillness reigns

(Davis Bayou Region, Gulf Islands National Seashore)

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.

Matsuo Basho

I hope you all had wonderful holidays! I’ll keep this short so you (and I) can get back to your year end celebrations.

Thank you so much for being here. See you again soon!

seagulls and pelicans reclaim a hurricane battered pier

Waylaid by Fog

I must go in, the fog is rising.

Emily Dickinson

Emily’s Final Dream

Hush now, the fog has come-

a spirit has laid his body down

settling over the village:

Slowly, quietly, she leaves the warmth

of her little house

and crosses the dewy lawn.

Passing by, she notices

how a dandelion, long gone to seed

now sparkles with diamonds.

She steps softly over the grass

onto the wooded trail beyond.

The fog spirit,

with its cool, liquid, murkiness

directs her gaze,

obscuring what doesn’t matter,

revealing only what is needful.

Step by step it leads her through the woods.

Silhouettes of trees appear in slow succession,

a line of soldiers passing-

looming large, then fading from sight

on either side of her path.

The soft thrumming of a woodpecker

draws her eyes upward,

where the last few oak leaves

begin their tumbling, twirling spiral

down to the forest floor.

She watches until they land.

She is being led to the river,

to a small clearing

where a narrow dock reaches out -

a beckoning arm.

She walks along to its end

where the muted light of the sun

Is barely visible through the heavy mist -

It’s more like a full moon than a star,

with reflected light glimmering softly on the surface of the water.

To her left, stands a tall dead branch

curving upward in the milky light -

reaching toward the unreachable.

The sight fills her with a deep longing

to understand this final mystery,

this tugging on her heart toward something beyond.

Where is the gentle spirit leading her?

In the way of dreams, she suddenly comprehends

the wisdom of resting in the unknown.

Everything she needs to know is here now.

She takes a final step forward.

The fog has come.

She must go in.

The opening quote by Emily Dickinson is reported to be her final words her death.

A foggy morning this week made me change all my morning plans and go for a walk at the River Bluff Park in Saugatuck.

I paint the fog - I think of its fresh moistness - its stillness - its mystery.

Douglas Lockwood

I am so grateful that I have the freedom to make choices like this one. I love the fog, and whenever I have a chance to be in it - I try to seize the moment.

I decided to write this week instead of next, since next week is the Thanksgiving Holiday in the U.S. and we will be busy cooking and visiting with friends, neighbors and family. I hope all of you who celebrate have a wonderful Thanksgiving Holiday.

Thank you so much for being here. See you in two weeks!

The fog seems to bring emphasis to every silhouette; give meaning to every dark shadow.

November Rambling

Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow.

Robert Frost

Teardrop pond on a small trail Pier Cove

I ramble into the woods

Where I know I’m small

Where the vastness of trees

Overtakes the me of me.

Walking softly,

feeling the roots

And rotted leaves beneath my feet

I can disappear

with the scrambling squirrels,

blend into the trees

with the wary deer.

I feel the power

Of a soaring hawk,

or a swooping owl

Or the crows calling,

Above the canopy.

We are all the same here

We all belong

we are spirits

we are forest

we are a revery

Of unity

rain soaked fallen leaves on driftwood

the arc of Pier Cove in final autumn colors

Oak leaf catching a little ray of November sun

Saugatuck in stillness

A handful of leaves in the woods

dune grass blowing

Queen Anne sparkling with sunshine

The first two weeks of November have been gloriously wild here. Winter is preparing to show itself. I have been doing a lot of wandering close to home and seeing my home town in a new and beautiful light. It’s always worth looking again at familiar places. I am grateful for where I live.

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

Cosmos blossom lingers