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The Monday morning hustle shuffle plays on autorepeat: traffic jamming, horns blaring, cell phone ringing, signals crossing. In the heart of the city, hidden in plain sight of the human enterprise, lies a different venture. Off the paved and trodden trails, tune down, down, down the eyes, the ears, the flesh, to receive another broadcast: the pulsing song of the heart wood is playing.
[This post was inspired by Kathy at Lake Superior Spirit who is playing a fun game of “Photo Shorts.” Tag. You’re it!]

The last day of August, a field of sunflowers beckons with all heads nodding, “Come.” A detour occurs, as she on her way somewhere forgotten, steals a moment to walk the trail and look deeply into flower faces. Worker bees go on about their dirty jobs as white butterflies aerial dance over it all.
[This post was inspired by Kathy at Lake Superior Spirit who is playing a fun game of “Photo Shorts.” Tag. You’re it!]
Been walking and reading. Time to share the lessons as the ongoing quest to see all Tennessee’s waterfalls continues…
It is all very beautiful and magical here – a quality that cannot be described. You have to live it and breathe it, let the sun bake into you.
Ansel Adams

“It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
Wendell Berry
Make connections; let rip; and dance where you can.
Annie Dillard

It is in the woods we return to reason and faith.
Emerson
Leave no stone unturned. Deeply explore the beauty in your life.
Neil Gaiman
Lyrics to "The Seed" A Song by the beautiful Aurora Aksnes (Photos by Lunar) Just like the seed I don't know where to go Through dirt and shadow I grow I'm reaching light through the struggle ...
... Just like the seed I'm chasing wonder I unravel myself All in slow motion ...
... Suffocate me so my tears can be rain I will water the ground where I stand so the flowers can grow back again ...
... 'Cause just like the seed Everything wants to live We are burning our fingers But we learn and forget ...

... Feed me sunlight, feed me air Feed me truth and feed me prayers. ...


A few sights on the walk through Holiday Wonders.
The magnolia grooves, dancing to the beat of the heartwoods. Her limbs sweep down to touch Earth before reaching back up to Sky.

The pines are dressed for a more formal social affair it seems. There’s much underground intermingling amongst them, or so I’ve heard.

The crepe myrtle sings an operatic solo.

Magic is made.

Enjoy the season!
“The artist is always engaged in writing a detailed history of the future because he is the only person aware of the nature of the present.”
–Marshall McLuhan




Look about you at the little things that run the earth.
~E.O. Wilson
I just finished reading Wendy Williams’ The Language of Butterflies and I have a new appreciation for these beautiful and diverse insects. I highly recommend it!