September Hatchlings

Inside Their prickled eggs, Like chicks The chestnuts grow; Warmed beneath the feathers Of September sun Until, one day The cracking Will begin- No tiny beaks inside To peck their way out, Only patient waiting For the coming Glossy fall Of perfect globes To earth Below. Sandra Peasley Bush

Summer Storm

Along the river, a line of Ohio hills begins to disappear behind a milky curtain of rain.

On our West Virginia side of the river, an uneasy calm suggests that all will not be well for long.

Suddenly, a mean wind breaks the stillness, tossing tree boughs and sending birds flying toward the shelter of a nearby thicket.

Raindrops, one...two...twenty...thousands wash across the land.

Lightning cuts a jagged ridge through the sky and thunder cracks and rumbles loudly, as though shaking  rain from the dark clouds.

No longer someone else's storm, seen from afar, this storm is ours to claim and endure.

After holding our attention and setting a mood of uncertainty over the valley, the storm moves on, its fury prepared to bully other communities down river. 

Rain slows, lightning offers pale flashes of light and thunder 

sounds in weak, far away claps.

For awhile, what seemed like confusion and threat held us in its grip.

In fact, the storm was always in the process of passing.

The clouds were always moving and evaporating.

Wind, after reaching its gusty peaks, was ebbing into a light breeze.

The storm was not the constant.

The constant was the blue sky and the sun above the clouds, out of sight, but ever present.

Hope is like that...always there, in spite of the appearance of troubling circumstances. 

The beautiful words to the old song, Whispering Hope, say it best:

...Wait tll the darkness is over,

Wait till the tempest is done;

Hope for the sunshine tomorrow,

After the shower is gone.

Whospering Hope, oh, how welcome thy voice;

Making my heart, in its sorrow, rejoice.

Blessings,   Sandra

Hummers and Humans

     It is early morning when I go out into the courtyard to fill the birdfeeders with seed. 

Suddenly, a soft breeze passes my face and a tiny figure hovers, less than a foot from my nose. 

His emerald green body with its splash of iridecent red, meets my eyes like a floating gemstone. 

It is, of course, the ruby-throated hummingbird that has come to greet me before making his way to the nectar feeder. 

We have become comfortable with one another over the summer months. 

 It wouldn't take much for me to entice him to one of my fingers for a visit. 

But, for now, we content ourselves with this special, warm encounter that we share several times a day. 

There is one thing that troubles me about this dear little bird.

He doesn't want to share.

Other hummers come, anxious to plunge their slender beaks into the little plastic flowers holding sweet sugar water, only to be dive bombed and bullied away by my beautiful friend. 

Oh, he has a mate that is permitted to join him, but all the others are, in his mind, trespassers.

Half his energy goes into making sure no outsiders come to "his" feeder.

"No, no!" I want to say, "I made that nectar for all hummers to enjoy, not just one or two!  Please share!"

Perhaps he is afraid there won't be enough, if he shares with the others.

Or is it that he wants things all to himself?

I can't pretend to know. 

All I can do is continue to love him and encourage him to share....as well as a human can relate such a concept to a little bird!

I wonder if God knows a similar frustration when humans refuse to share with one another, the abundence that has been provided for all. 

                                                                      Blessings,    Sandra

Hummers and Humans

 

A Hummingbird Feeder for One

The Truth About Small

If size meant much...

We woldn't see these bits of feistness on wing.

So bold...so sure.

But size means little

In the natural world.

As any hummingbird....or bee...will testify.

August Hummingbird

AUGUST HUMMINGBIRD

August Beach Days

In times when teenages were really young, they came in daily droves... In 57' Chevys Fan tailed Plymouths, and in red convertibles, laid back and free. The girls...they were girls then... packed in like lolipops...and yes, they knew just who might be on Beaches Six and Ten. Then, swinging beach bags laden down with Coppertone and swimming caps, they searched the crowded sand for a just perfect place to spread an Indian blanket down... to lie in oiled skin beneath the pulsing sun that beat, beat, beat down rays to the rhythm of the hearts below that skipped and shivered when a bronze- tanned Prince walked by with nose Noxema white and hair slicked back, all

Brill Cream cool.

Sandra Peasley Bush

Peaceful River

                                                     The Ohio River at Vienna, WV

The river waters run slowly and peacefully beneath the warm July sky. It was not always so. In the spring, the river ran high and moved quickly. Carrying the waters of melting Northern snow and heavy rains, it swelled over its banks, in many places, and created distress for all who lived nearby. Like the river, our lives go through periods of calm and periods of overwhelming upset. At the time, it may seem that the condition we are experincing will not change, but change it will. And, the new condition that appears will also come and go, flowing like the river, on and on. Enjoy those times of quiet waters in your life and know, with confidence, that you will have everything you need for the times when the waters are not so peaceful. Everything passes. Everything changes.

                                                                            http://sandscript02.wordpress.com/

Peace to you, Sandra

Deer Morning

                                                            After a night of storms
                                                            A buck
                                                            A doe
                                                           Two fawn             
                                                           Coats wet
                                                           Came ambling
                                                           Down the hill
                                                           In search of breakfast
                                                           Stopping still
                                                           A moment
                                                           Greeting me
                                                           In silence
                                                           Before moving on
                                                          Toward tender
                                                          Rain washed leaves
                                                          The buck
                                                          The doe
                                                          Two fawn.
                                                          
                                                          
                                                         
                                                                       Sandra Peasley Bush
                                                     
                                                      
                                                    
                                                  
                                         
                  

Doe in the Morning

Monsters of the Past

Last summer, the tomato plants on my patio were invaded by ugly green monsters that ate away at stems, leaves and fruit.  
Tomato hornworms. 
It was deeply discouraging to see healthy plants stripped in the night of their worth by the greedy, insatiable creatures. 
By autumn, after weeks of plucking off and tossing away the invaders,  I vowed never again to plant tomatoes. 
In the spring,  my garden seemed incomplete without the usual potted plant with its promise of sweet red fruit. 
Yet, I couldn't shake the bad memories.
 I was anything but anxious to try again. 
It was later in the season than usual, when I finally relented.
While I shopped for petunias at the garden center, a healthy young  tomato plant ,bearing bright yellow blossoms, caught my attention.
Oh, how could I face a summer without homegrown tomatoes!
It would be different, this year, I reasoned. 
Now, I'd know how to keep watch for signs of the innocent looking hummingbird moths that become the dreadful worms.
Last year's unfortunate history need not repeat itself.
After all, hadn't I known many prior, worm free years  raising juicy tomatoes?
With a smile on my face, I paid the cashier and tucked the plant into my trunk. 
The new tomato plant took its place in the garden, and to this day, has not shown any signs of infestation.  Plump green tomatos are growng right on schedule.
Soon, we'll be enjoying rosy red slices on our sandwiches and salads, as the memories of last year fade away.
I'm examining my life for past encounters with worms.
What other bad experiences are keeping me from trying again?

Monsters of the Past

CELEBRATE!

BUCKEYES STAND, LIKE PYROTECHNIC ROCKETS,

POISED TO FILL THE AIR WITH FOURTH OF JULY JOY

Victims

Across the road from my house, a copse of trees lines the hillside sloping toward the skyline. One day, a windstorm came whirling through. As I watched from my window, in horrified facination, the wind seemed to target the trees in the center of the growth, snapping off branches and flinging them to the ground like dismembered arms and legs. All other trees, from the sturdy little pines to the tallest water maples, were left unscathed. Yet, in their midst, some that had also been statuesque, leaf covered beauties, now stood stripped of everything but their bare trunks. We can't know why some fall victim to adversity while others seem to spend much of their lives untouched. Often the winds of life seem to blow in cruel, random ways. It does us no good to think of ourselves as victims. No matter what befalls us, we must keep reaching for the heavens and securing our roots deeply into the earth to which we were born. We are, after all, alive every day of our life! Blessings, Sandra

Happy First Day of Summer!

                                                            Summer Solstice

                                                      I've waited for this day
                                                     When sun stays up
                                                     To play, 'til well past nine,
                                                     And we, who put all natural things
                                                     In words
                                                     Rejoice to say
                                                    That Summer has arrived.
                                                    We've now survived              
                                                    The Winter's blast,
                                                    And Spring's damp blooming
                                                    Days have passed;
                                                    The happy sun
                                                    Shall dance a tarantella
                                                    With the glowing moon
                                                    'Stay Summer...
                                                     Do stay long!"
                                                     Don't let the darkness
                                                     Seep into your days
                                                     Too soon.

                                                                      Sandra Peasley Bush
                                     

              
                     
  

The Aroma of Harmony

As I begin my morning walk on the woodland path, I delight in the unique aroma drifting through the air. 
It is one unknown to the world of concrete and pavement in the city below the hill.
 This is the blended aroma of chestnut and honeysuckle.
The long white sword of  the American Chestnut tree emits a harsh, pungent smell,  while the delicate trumpet flower of the honeysuckle vine can, at times, smell too sweet.
When blooming near one another, something exotic happens.
Their scents mingle to form a delightful musky-sweet perfume that is a joy to inhale.

Across town, the Mid Ohio Valley Multicultural Festival is underway. 
People from various countries and backgrounds are preparing their foods, sharing their music and setting aside their differences in order to create, together, a joyful celebration of human sharing.

As we all strive to make this a more understanding, peaceful world, let us remember the honeysuckle and the chestnut flowers in our lives and do what we can to create a sweet perfume of harmony.

Blessings,     Sandra

Sweet Honeysuckle

Chestnut in Blossom

Unexpected Change

June has sauntered in on the warm, bare feet of  summer, and we in the valley are delighting in the unexpected heat wave. 
We've been caught off guard.  
We had such a  bitter winter and  rainy spring. 
It was hard to imagine blue skies and sun returning again.  Yet, here they are!
 Finally, we can lift our faces toward the sky and smile. 
Often, when we can't imagine good times ever coming again, something amazing happens, breaking through the dreariness of our difficulties with the bright sun of hope.
May June be a month filled with unexpected changes for the good.

First February Thoughts

This First Day

Pure As the Driven Snow

Surely, nothing fits the image of Quiet Waters as well as freshly fallen snow.
 Once again, snow is quilting our countryside in soft, peaceful white.
It has been falling to earth in gentle, quiet flakes, unmoved by wind,  lacing every tree, fencepost and hillside.
As I gaze across the horizon I'm moved by the purity of the scene.
 Purity, now there's a wonderful word rarely heard today...  other than in reference to laundry detergent and air quality!
Yet, purity also reflects the most nobel of human intentions and attitudes.   
Purity of our thoughts and purity of our intentions are free of the pollution caused by hate, unkindness and fearfulness.
Thomas Kempis expressed the value of purity in poetic words when he wrote,
     "Purity and simplicity are the two wings with which man soars above the earth and all temporary things."
 Jesus wisely said,
     "Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God".
Why is it then, that we find it so hard, in modern times, to strive for purity of thoughts, words and actions?
Is it because we are surrounded day in, day out by so much of the opposite?
Let's look on this snow, not as a frustration, but as a reminder to examin our lives for examples of purity.  Perhaps we can free ourselves from some of the qualities that, in fact, take away our joy and self respect.


                                              

Pyracantha in the Snow

Ducks Landing on the Cold Banks of the Ohio River at Marietta, Ohio

Yesterday was the Ides of January. 
The dead of winter.
 Yet, just when we thought we'd had all the cold we could stand, the sun came out ,and  began melting the snow and ice. 
Weather forcasters smiled as they predicted temperatures over 32 degrees....balmy to us,  after enduring the bitter cold that has blanketed our valley. 
It may take several days, but the warmth will turn the crusts of stubborn snow and jagged ice into trickles of clear water. 
What had seemed so heavy, stationary and threatening, will change into something more managable. 
It wasn't, after all, what it appeared to be.
How like our lives, these periods of bitter weather followed by relief.
No matter what our present circumstances, they are not going to last forever.  Nothing does.
There is always hope for the inevitable, predictable change that will, in good time come our way.

Stillness

A hush hung over the park green this morning. 
Everything was coated in a thin layer of winter frost, and the cold was deep.
 From a far off tree, I heard the hollow echo of a woodpecker rapping against frigid tree bark, but no bird voices could be heard. 
It was as though all things were tucked away in their winter resting places....squirrels, deer, geese, hawks and other residents of the pond and woodland, asleep. 
Creatures seem to know when to be active and when to rest. 
When the time is right, they will begin coming out again, but for now, inactivity is the rule of winter. 
We humans would also do well to gage more of our activities by the seasons. 
Surely there would be fewer colds and aches were we to snuggle down under our blankets for a few extra hours and avoid rushing ourselves into exhaustion! 
Let's think over our winter routines. 
Where, in the gift of this day, can we give ourselves a bit more winter down time?
 I don't mean couch potato time! 

Rather, relaxing, renewing, peaceful winter rest.

Winter Hillside

REFRESHED REVIVED RENEWED

Last autumn, with the onset of cold weather, I  had brought several plants from the patio to the warmth of the house to wait out the winter. 
On New Year's day, I chanced to notice one planter I'd tucked into a corner on the kitchen counter. 
A sad sight met my eyes. 
The once robust green leaves were drooping over the sides of the container, and dry, yellow twigs and leaves had fallen all around. 
Caught up in the bustle of the holidays, I had neglected to water this poor, languishing plant.  
Immediately, I took out the watering can and gave it a good, long drink, apologizing for my thoughtlessness as the water trickled into the arid soil.  
On the next morning, I was astonished to see the plant once again covered with hearty, healthy green leaves.  All it had needed was a bit of refreshing water to be at its best again.

How often we are like the poor deprived plant, needing desperately to be renewed.
 Perhaps we have neglected to care for our own needs as we've generously offered our time and energies to the needs of others. 
Or, we may have felt our lives dry and wilting due to overwork, lonliness, illness  or the difficulties of aging.
Whatever our case may be, there is something that would act as cool reviving water to our spirit. 
What is it in your life? 
A little rest? 
Reaching out to make a new friend? 
A new activity to divert your thoughts from your difficulties? 
There are many possibilities. 
Think it over, and vow to give yourself that which will refresh and renew your enjoyment of  life.

Blessings for a beautiful 2011!     Sandra