Moon screened.

Right before bed this moon keeps beckoning for my attention. If it were in the east, I’d have trouble sleeping, as it’d shine through the window upon my face. But westward? It says goodnight. Think of beauty. Have closure. This day is done for you, but I have a bit more to do.

Good for them, sad for us.

A nest moved.

This was in my shop shed - the shed I keep my bikes in. I can’t say with 100% certainty what kind of eggs these are but I’m leaning toward the Carolina wren - amongst the least favorite of my local birds, always trying to build nest in inappropriately heavily trafficked places.

Maryland, an hour west of The Big Mess.

First fungi.

This is the first in a slow, late search. I ended up finding about a dozen yesterday.

So many lessons happen in the search for morels: patience, frustrations, inspections, evaluations, ground covering, analysis, gnats, paw paws, centipedes, changes, resets. It’s always insightful.

Just say no

I’ve had it in lasagna, too. Everything else is less, right?

Perched.

Appreciating the wing, for the shape is graceful. The colors, muted and looking into the light, shine more defined on the other side.

To appreciate what we see, what we are given, what we have is gratitude by definition. Lust for more is greed and ingratitude most heinous.

Stars between the meager buildings.

Even in the city the stars were bright last night. But the juxtaposition against home buildings captures more of what connects me for now, on this journey, in this when.

Purple passion asparagus.

This is my favorite kind of asparagus. I have so much. This is the year I want to see if my local food pantry will accept fresh fruits and vegetables. In the time of need for others, my life’s abundance is for them.

Blues and stars upon the line.

Sleep came quick, until I bolted out of bed with a closed windpipe. It’s happened many times.

It gives me an opportunity to use my mind to free my body, quieting my panic, pushing sips of air out, letting the airway untense.

We must act less like animals.

Closed tulip.

I really wanted to have a bunch of asparagus on my cutting board for this morning, but I just wasn’t in a place where I could cut it AND process it. So they keep growing taller and we look at this sleeping tulip, closed for the rain last night, perhaps shuttered for the heat today.

Triad of the stars.

Though I keep being amazed and search in wonder for the beauty of the world, it’s easy to be distracted by flaws. This is my long time fight. In that continued quest, I strive to remove more self and focus on simple good.

Spidey from across the room.

It is tiny - smaller than my pinky nail.

What a delight to enjoy the smaller things.

It didn’t creep or crawl.

The time to fear the small things is behind, I hope. We don’t have to love them, but can we not respect them?

Redbud into the sun… and back.

Having crested the blossoms, it’s just about time to leaf out and take in that life-giving sun.

Through the winter’s cold, to the spring’s cool, she glides into her space, blessing us with her presence in this now.

Two stars and a stripe in the blue night.

Stress eased with a short 23 mile bike ride and 3 hours more sleep than yesterday. This positions me slightly better for today’s onslaught of work.

I’m so grateful my good friend and best helper will help get things done.

Blessed am I.

My darkness.

It started well before I woke, this darkness. It’s there but I deny it to keep lighter, to be more pleasant, but the thorns are deep and the discomfort real. The day drips hours before rising to this occasion, this day, which is more than I can easily accept, this hard abundance.

Nebulous night.

After some riotous living, I returned home and gazed up into the vast heavens. The cold, clear night gave me this gift and many more, which I needed because clarity, beauty, and stillness with bit of awe, sprinkled with some stardust can feed our souls.

Summer kitchen corner.

I don’t remember taking this photo, to be honest.

It seems though symbolism can always be found throughout our lives.

Here, the slant of the world, the tree of life rising behind the solid, weathered foundation our ancestors formed, with blue skies fighting clouds.

Dark corner.

Up, in the mid-wood, after the dappled clouds gave in to a more solid, constant cover, I dipped into this hollow - wild, untouched with a precious secret hidden and known but to only two.

It was more of a premonition than entrapment, as I walked down that perilous path.

Thank you for sharing this. It’s a good reminder and much needed not just for me but for those whose paths I come across, for their work is a practice too, and my reaction to their work is my practice and theirs, too, of course.

Practice in progress.

In the wood.

I wandered yesterday, in peace to be in the woods.

The fawn carcass, I had seen many parts along the plain.

The box turtle, covered still in mud, persists, uphill upon the mountain, arrayed in its bright, orange turtleneck shows another possibility.

Hybrid pear blossom.

Many years ago I dug a seedling out of my compost area. In those days, I was more optimistic about more things, so with hope I planted it and it’s grown into a prosperous, happily fruiting tree with crunchy, traditional pears. Before those, thousands of these blossoms.

Take them down. No one is above the law.

What a wonderful journey!

I’ve spent many years with many different horses (teaching at a summer camp), but never considered their “fields,” as much as our connectivity.

Sycamore snap!

I’ve seen the hundred foot white body laid downslope from this jagged breakage, an unusual occurrence.

Fierce winds catch giants and rotten bases are enough to fell the Goliath.

Blues nightscape.

I woke to the same color I went to slumber with. It was a Baskerville misty day yesterday, to my surprise.

I have no illusions as to what today will hold, because I keep forgetting the forecast but it’s wet out. I know that much. It’s time to make it what we will.

Erect and proud.

I needed to see this bit of brightness from yesterday.

I dreamt too much and the last dream was dark and left me awake and out of breath.

It’s painful to see your parents suffer, even if only in a dream.

So I refocus. I seek beauty, harmony and peace, taking aim at my desire.

Moon in cornflower blues.

As her moonship cast her light, in a locomotive straight time, it washed off the day’s film and guided me to peace.

The burdens of the day evaporated with her light. It was time to bathe in her shine, and so I did, and walked away lighter, unburdened.

Moonsway roof.

It’s not perfect.

Paint is peeling.

There’s a huge sway on the ridge.

Mother Locust peers from behind, seemingly jumping and waving almost begging to be seen.

Oh dear. I see you… and the moon, the cloud and the stars.