Ash Wednesday

In a journal from three years ago, I found thoughts about Ash Wednesday that are much the same I would write today.  “Lent, Day 1.  We are adding readings from Psalms to the few minutes we have before Joe leaves for work in the mornings.  In all my Protestant years growing up, Lent was little recognized most of the time.  I have grown in need and appreciation of these set apart days approaching Easter and in all my observation of the liturgical year.  I crave the structure, need the framework for deepening spiritual sensitivity and awareness.  So begins arranging days and heart and home in new awareness of Eastering.”

Crosses of ashes,

sign of beginning journey,

mark Lenten promise.

Sing a Song, Tell a Story

I am deeply touched this morning as I read a blog I follow:  www.allenlevi.wordpress.com.  Often I find that God brings story and song to my attention like a friend coming alongside me to remind me what matters.  This video is from a previous post of Allen’s during a time in which he has been caring for his terminally ill brother, Gary.

                                                               Sing a Song, Tell a Story

Greening in the Rain


Right now we have a large dove population in our back yard. I know this because when I walk outside, I often startle a pair or two on the walkways or fence. I love finding their nests. This one is on the top of arches where a climbing antique rose grows. I can stand underneath it, which is where this photo was taken.

Greening in the Rain

Peaceful garden, greening in the rain
Roses blooming, shattering, scattering confetti on the flagstone
Hyacinth thrusting up a sweet purple bouquet
Doves building twig nests in twining vines.

Roses blooming, shattering, scattering confetti?
Shaken by startled darting wings –
Doves, building twig nests in twining vines
Petaled path inviting passage.

Shaken by startled darting wings,
I am stilled as I see their nest,
Petaled path inviting passage
Peaceful garden, greening in the rain.

Growing

“When gardeners garden, it is not just plants that grow, but the gardeners themselves”. ~ Ken Druse

Texas Gulf Coast Winters are frequently mild, but so far this year has been strangely so. After the summer’s dreadful prolonged heat and drought, we welcomed Fall and cooler temperatures.  After earlier than usual temperature dips into slightly below freezing, we have had only a couple of freeze warnings and unusually warm days which are tricking the garden into thinking Spring.  The Peggy Martin roses on our arbor are throwing out new growth and bursting into a riot of color. Undoubtedly we will have some nips when temperatures drop again.

How can I learn and grow from tending this garden? 

I will remember that my circumstance is not always what it seems.

I will avoid jumping to conclusions based on unfinished results.

I will practice patience even when I want to demand “now.”

I will remember my Gardener knows the forecast.

 

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The Rain Chain

This string of bronze bell shaped objects is hanging right now from one of the arches in our rose arbor by the fish pond.  It is pretty, and if breezes get brisk, it sounds like a clattery windchime.  It is OK as this ornament.  But it is not functioning in the way it was designed.  These “bells” are supposed to be cups.  The cluster is intended to hang in one long string to replace a traditional gutter downspout.  It is called a rain chain and is supposed to be a beautiful and functional alternative to a plain downspout.  This was my gift to my husband one year when I read that the cups would visibly guide rainwater from the roof to the ground and transform our gutter into a pleasing water feature. 

I did not realize that because our gutters are tied via the downspouts into a French drain system, we would not be able to hang the rain chain instead.  So we do not hear the soft tinkle of individual rain drops or a soothing rush of water.  The upside down cups clink and will never collect raindrops. 

Is there a purpose for which I am intended that is blocked by any upside down choices I make?   

Christmas Afterglow

 

Christmas Afterglow

Christmas Afterglow

savoring Christmas gifts not in a box,

sweet echoes of laughter,

dear traditions of music and story

 

Savoring Christmas gifts not in a box,

candlelight burning steady,  strong

dear traditions of music and story

keeping and being kept, golden circle

 

Candlelight burning steady, strong

sweet echoes of laughter,

keeping and being kept, golden circle

Christmas afterglow.

Christmas Is A Place

Christmas Is A Place

Christmas is a place, like the hearth,

where we all come in from the cold.

Drawn by warmth and promise,

cheered in flickering light,

we get closer to the flame

and each other.

Christmas is a place, like the hearth,

Where we gather

 in anticipation

 of Gift and Giver,

basking around a campfire

 of retold story.

Stoking to keep it hotly burning.

 Christmas is a place, like my heart,

where the Mary-me receives once again

astonishing news and says yes

to giving birth and being born,

to delivering and being delivered,

to remembering.

Art of Advent

Art of Advent

Cherishing story and image long loved

Opening to untold story, unpainted canvas

Breathing lingering frankincense and myrrh

Gathering rosemary, remembering.

Opening to untold story, unpainted canvas

Blessing fresh possibility

Gathering rosemary, remembering

Unfurling swirl of mystery

Blessing fresh possibility

Breathing lingering frankincense and myrrh

Unfurling swirl of mystery

Cherishing image and story

Thanksgiving for Seasons

 This display at our local garden center is created to be a “living wall”.  As I enjoyed all the color and texture growing on this one spot, framed by the thoughts of a living wall, I was thankful for the lessons seasonal loss and gain teach me.  True, there are no daffodils or spring green tree buds here, but oh, the richness and variation of autumn color.  In the autumn of my life I am thankful for colorful change. Just as surely, winter will come.  Then, too, I can draw strength from the one in whom we are rooted,

“There is a winter in all of our lives,
a chill and darkness that makes us yearn
for days that have gone
or put our hope in days yet to be.

Father God, you created seasons for a purpose.
Spring is full of expectation
buds breaking
frosts abating and an awakening
of creation before the first days of summer.

Now the sun gives warmth
and comfort to our lives
reviving aching joints
bringing colour, new life
and crops to fruiting.

Autumn gives nature space
to lean back, relax and enjoy the fruits of its labour
mellow colours in sky and landscape
as the earth prepares to rest.

Then winter, cold and bare as nature takes stock
rests, unwinds, sleeps until the time is right.

An endless cycle
and yet a perfect model.
We need a winter in our lives.
A time of rest, a time to stand still.
A time to reacquaint ourselves
with the faith in which we live and breathe.
It is only then that we can draw strength
from the one in whom we are rooted,
take time to grow and rise through the darkness
into the warm glow of your springtime,
to blossom and flourish,
bring colour and vitality into this world,
your garden.

Thank you Father
for the seasons of our lives”

written by John Birch, Methodist Lay Minister in Wales

Moonflowers Revisited

A writing exercise recently posted in my online writing group was named the Adjective Project.  Actually, it should have been called The Missing Adjective Project because the goal was to write a descriptive poem or story using few nor no adjectives.  It happened to coincide with another morning at which my kitchen window revealed a  bountiful display of moonflowers.  Here is the missing adjectives poem.  I might have done without the rest of the words, since a picture can be worth a thousand of them…
 
I greet morning as I see moonflowers blooming at dawn.
 Each flower opened at dusk,
 welcomed darkness as I slept,
 kept watch while I dreamed.
 Daylight washes over them,
 folding their covers and saying goodbye
. Vine twines at window,
dressing with lacey  curtains
 of leaf and shadow.