MY GOOD INTENTIONS

More than a month has passed since my last entry. Spring has gently unfolded into summer, and new responsibilities call to us all from the now warm, green world. Planting, weeding, walking in the cool sun of morning, traveling, entertaining, painting...all these things have taken me away from fulfilling my good intention to write regularly. My first entry, made in the deep cold of January, seems so long ago. Now, I am much like the hummingbird outside my window, flitting from flower to flower, living my days, rather than writing about them, from early sunrise to late sunset. Forgive me, Dear Readers, if any of you are still checking in to read this blog. I have been kidnapped and taken away by Life, and for the moment, cannot be depended upon to write on a regular basis. There. I've confessed. If you are wise, you, too, will go out and fill each summer day to the brim with as many wonderful experiences as possible. We walk with summer for such a brief time. Then, as the days grow short, and a chill returns to the air....when it is once again possible to sit down at the computer without longing to be doing something else, on the blue sky side of the wall, I'll resume my weekly writings, and we'll share our days in words and ideas. Until we meet again, may you be blessed with a beautiful, restful, wonderous summer. But, should my muse beckon me before the leaves fall, you'll be the first to know! Yours for all seasons, Sandra

MAYAPPLE FRIENDS

Down the trail and under the trees

Mayapples march

In the soft morning breeze.

Suddenly, crowds of mayapples are marching along the forest floor.

Each one has seven broad leaves that come together to form a green umbrella.

Out from beneath each green umbrella peaks a shy, little cup-shaped white flower.

The flower often goes unnoticed by people passing by but is such a delight to those who take the time to find it.

Mayapples remind me how easily some of us can be lost in a crowd.

Those who are not outgoing or who consider themselves ordinary, are all too often passed by unnoticed.

Several times in my life, I've found a good friend by getting to know better, a quiet person who didn't stand out in the crowd.

What a joy it has been to unexpectedly find an interesting person whose qualities I soon grew to treasure.

Probably, not far from where you are, right now, there is a new friend waiting to be found.

It's that person you've so often overlooked.

Tip up that person's green umbrella, and start a conversation. You'll be glad you did!

Blessings, Sandra

MOTHERS, MOTHERS EVERYWHERE!

Can you imagine a world without mothers? Everywhere we go, motherhood reigns! Not only on this special day set aside to honor human mothers, but on each and every day in the entire world of nature. This morning, as I walked over the hill at the edge of the woods, mothers were everywhere! A robin mother hopped across the green, tilting her head to capture the vibration of a juicy worm she could pull from the soil and take back to her nest of young. Soon, her fledglings will begin to tumble from the nest, stretch their new wings and make that first uncertain flights. Mother Robin will be right there with each one, her worried twitters cautioning and instructing them until they have the confidence and capabilities to go it on their own. As I rounded the bend of the path, I noticed a pair of soft brown ears twitch on the other side of a berry thicket. Had they not moved, I would have thought I was seeing nothing more than last autumn's faded leaves. In fact, a doe was lying there. I could not see it but was certain that beside her, was a new spotted fawn, wobbly- legged and eager to see the world. But, only Mother Doe would know when it was safe for her child to venture out alone. Until then, she would protect and nurture the little one close by her side. As I walked, I imagined many, many mothers and their young. Down on the pond, Mother Goose with her gawky, down covered goslings, and their neighbors, Mother Duck and her fuzzy yellow ducklings were all gliding across the water, little ones lined up behind their mothers, eager for the swim. Mother Muskrat and her kits in their cozy den of sticks and mud; Mother Heron and her delicate egg, about to hatch... all the mothers and their young, ready for a new day. Chipmnks, squirrels, woodpeckers, rabbits and walleye....all of nature is at the season of motherhood. Even Mother Earth, herself, should be hailed for the bounty of life she brings forth this spring, and every spring. Let us all give thanks for mothers....human and others....the source of life and love. Blessings, Sandra

THE POWER OF SPRING

‘Funny, isn’t it, that man, with all the technology at his finger tips, cannot will Spring to come. Yes, we can engineer daffodils in new shapes and shades, but we can’t make April’s profusion of colorful blossoms and heady scents parade down the hillsides, across the fields and through the gardens a day earlier or a week later than Nature intends. You can hold a tulip bulb in your hand, warm it, coddle it….carry it with you, but it isn’t until you set it into the earth and trust the Power greater than your own, that it will grow. April humbles us. It ushered in spring before we were here on earth, and it will continue to usher it in long after we’ve left the earth. Unlike us, it’s a constant. To play our small, but important, role in the breathtaking drama called Spring, we need only open our eyes and enjoy the beauty. This is one of those times when being an observer can bring the deepest pleasure.

GOOD FRIDAY

WOOD WORK

Someone

Used a skilled eye

Searching for the ideal height

And thickness of the tree;

Detatched...

Indifferent...

Cut it down,

His brow sweat dripping

On the wounded pulp.

Someone

Dragged it back to town,

Behind a team,

To where another

Split the beams

Right for support...

Not flimsy

Or too short...

And free of cracks

That might give way too soon.

Someone

Laid two pieces on the ground

Then wound them

At the junctions...

Tight with heavy rope

To sure their hold.

It was a job for three or four

To hoist it upright...

Finished, and in place.

Someone

Gave the final word

To call it

What it had become,

A cross...

Fit for a king.

Sandra Peasley Bush

APRIL BLESSINGS

STIRRINGS

There is a restlessness to Spring.

There is impatience-

A pacing of the floor

A tapping of the fingers

A watching of the clock

As days grow long.

There is a blinking of the eyes

At the sight of giddy green

A drive to sweep clean

Every crack and crevice

Holding signs of

Winter gray.

The stomach churns;

The skin itches.

There is a longing

To remember what

Seemed long ago

Forgotten;

An urge to touch

Soft pussy willow fur.

A moving of priorities

From inside,

Now to out.

A folding up

Of wollen grays and browns;

A trading

For crisp cotton pinks and blues.

There is a warmer side

To my house now

Where hope and hyacinth

bask side by side

In butter yellow rays.

Where purple finch and sparrow nest

In rolled up awnings,

And shell armored hatchlings peck,

Impatient on this day

To make their way

Toward April sun.

Sandra Peasley Bush