Monday mingle

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."
                                                                                                                             Albert Camus

From a few of my friends ~

• Debbie
• Amy
• Yvonne
• Elena
• Sue

"A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world."
                                                                                    Leo Buscaglia
 

autumn ramblings 7

a time when ~

i am ever grateful for the choice of spending time outdoors creating, if only for a brief time
while our summer weather was magical
early autumn 
also.

i am happy to have shared my desire with my beloved to sit outside, read
while i did some creating.
so rare for him to do.
on our spectacular last weekend of september, saturday.

for then the weather changed.

the snow capped the roof of the garage viewed through the window.
the pumpkins.

the one misplaced favourite mitten needed to be found
"now" before venturing outdoors.
consideration given a number of times those evenings to the need for ice grippers
to keep safe from falling
as happened number of times that year
how long ago?

yet the delphinium stands, two
and the chives
between the garage wall and the cement path stones
ever beautifully
reminding me of how strong i am
how i can stand beautifully too
sometimes through the most difficult conditions.

  *******

seven stars for ramblings seven 

my mind strays 
again

wondering if what i have to say here merits the wonderful number.

loving the number seven.

*******

"indian summer" waltzes in

amazing me, others

once again everyone outdoors

smells of barbecuing meat

knowledge it may very quickly go out 

with the west wind blowing

big grin with every breath

not caring of our longing for yet another warm day

brilliant sunlight bringing autumn richness

knowing of our need for change of the seasons

yet such angst within as the mood swings 

with every touch of winter approaching

winter approaching.

i am amazed at the honking of the geese to the east

water 

gathering geese

hundreds if not more honking

flying in groups silhouetted

in the distance.

i wonder as i make the road trip to city alone

yet with guides, many.

forecast for cloud filled day.

sunlight peeking, beaming through for me

most of my lone way.

i return home

at that golden hour of light perfect.

again wondering at how the light seems for me alone

as the forecast still says cloud prevails.

i offer words of praise, thanksgiving

observing more silhouettes, ducks, yet more ducks.

water sparkling as the wheels take me by.

*******

i mimic the chickadees high above in the trees

as once again i try to snatch moments outdoors

often with warm jacket about me as i waited too long those days 

to honour myself.

morning walks are about donning cabled gray tights

sage green cords, warm sweaters, denimy blue "barn" jacket, also in cord

blundstone boots, those favourite stripey mittens, lost one found, though not by me

and red soft hat. not usually my colour but being brave these days.

besides, it was handy.

as the wind continues
so i continue to wonder
wishing for more wandering through nature, mindfulness, creating.
some day some time.

 angel blessings dear ones.

Monday mingle

Are you a highly sensitive person?

• the highly sensitive person
• world of psychology ~ 5 gifts of being highly sensitive
• elephant journal
• Jim Hallowes - highly sensitive people
• top ten survival tips for the highly sensitive person

autumn ramblings 6

a time when ~

first one
another
many more blue birds playing
with me, with each other
as i departed on that day to visit my Mom.

thinking first it was my Dad, perhaps
then two angels
certainly many angels.
i found her then, to first remind me so much of Dad as she woke
then took a moment, moments more
to orientate self.

never quite certain if she recognizes
me.
certainly not caring, i,
if she does.
only grateful once again for the time
with her, whom i love dearly.
reminded once again of the extra time with her
the near losing her that many months ago, six now.

realizing later, how she seemed more alert this recent visit.
wanting also to pour her own milk from carton into glass.
doing it splendidly
knowing when i ask her if wants to try
that the juice will have to be poured
quickly.
doing that splendidly also, more able probably than i with my essential tremor.
she has it too,
hereditary,
but her movements guided by some extra unseen helping hand, also perhaps
determination.

“The only way to find the limits of the possible is by going beyond them

to the impossible. “
                                                                                             Arthur C. Clarke

Happy Thanksgiving

autumn ramblings 5

a time when ~
tears seem so at the ready
often at the most inopportune of times.
i know i need to cry and let this grief
this sadness
go through me.

yet i am only allowed a moment.
i long for more time.
even but a few more moments.
sometime.

in the meantime i will remember how grateful i am 
for the deeply rooted knowledge that art saves.

for the awareness of the meaning of feathers spotted.
the tiny, though sometimes larger, very brief flashes of light, typically blue
though sometimes purple
or white
even red
in my peripheral vision.
i say a tiny prayer of thanks
as taught.

for the receiving of stories
around feathers
bringing joyful tears 
with the knowledge that others are also aware of these feather angels.

*********

the tears ~

tears for my father
who moved to the greatest of all homes in February.

tears for the struggles and challenges of our daughter
as she tries to make her way in a world that often does not want to see
how sensory issues
how differences
can create ~
can create what?
sigh.
difficulties.
for the joy of being her parents
the knowledge of where she might be if we had not been her parents.
for the beautiful being she is
even though.

tears for my mother
though in a place with many people
many wonderful care givers
a place that is safe
she will be alone on Thanksgiving.
tomorrow i will see her.
i will hug her.
not just one of our pretend hugs
that which we share every time i speak with her on the phone.
i will reassure
that this is where she lives now.
that she has been here for nearly a year now.
the departing on the elevator is always 
i suppose a look to what comes next
gratitude for the time shared
gratitude that she is still with us and as able as she is.

tears for all the gifts we have been given.

tears for my family.
though this Thanksgiving there will be only three
i am ever rejoicing for family
just as through the past 
we six, round the dining room table for Thanksgiving,
mentioned "family" as that being one of the things we were most grateful for.
for so many wonderful gifts.
we have been richly blessed.

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend." 
                                                             Melody Beattie
  

autumn ramblings 4

a time when ~
the full moon went flowing by with the stream pulling behind chill, chilly temperatures
grey skies to try ~ pull us down
plus winds to nearly knock the breath from even the strongest creatures among us. 
not to mention many of the leaves from the trees.

a time when ~
the robins visit, nearly en masse  
moving from one tree to another in our yard, 
and many others, as i walk in daylight hours.
sadly the light tricking ~ frequent thuds heard as the robins bump,
one after another, into the windows.
my heart does a little skip for them. typically they are strong.
not so the numerous wings and stilled bodies i glimpse on the pavement, probably fallen victim to neighbours cat.
i sigh, remembering with some sadness 
the way of nature.
wondering how on african safaris "the chase" seems to draw the attention of many travellers.
not me.
i preferred the humungous yawns 

Source: fashionfever.tumblr.com via Joyce on Pinterest

 

as they napped. 
we could be still,
standing in our safari vehicle at a safe distance.
grateful the others with us, also intrigued by those same yawns.

a white feather captures my attention
so very apparent midst the darkness fallen leaves at curb's edge.

a veil of tiny richness coloured leaves 
trails 
from the flatbed trailer at lunch time departure 
from their spot parked beneath the trees of the park beside.

"Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze."
                                          Emily Dickinson