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It was a sort of fairytale day with castles, mists, springs, and danger lurking in the forest.
The Blue Hole Trail was no joke. At the trailhead, the sign read (in caps no less!):
“STRENUOUS USE EXTREME CAUTION”
Prince Charming read this, turned around, and started walking in the opposite direction.
“I didn’t intend to hike this trail,” said he.
She did what any self-respecting fairytale princess would do. Shrugging on the backpack, she started down the trail without him, not pausing for a backward glance. A few moments later he came along, grumbling.
There were lessons learned along the way. For example, hiking shoes matter, especially when the water is the trail! (…and also, when you have poo shoe, but that was a different lesson on a different trail). The new kicks were actually waterproof! Other hikers that had come before were clearly not as lucky. Along the trail they found the remains of one unfortunate soul’s sole that was not as keen as it claimed to be….
A witty bard once said, T’is better to have hiking shoes with waterproof soles than have a soul of dread
…or something like that.
The water really was the trail,
and Prince Charming made it all the way to the bottom…
and back up again!
The Lotus
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying,
and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to
me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this
perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.
—Rabindranath Tagore
Today’s offering in celebration of Earth Day: Precious moments aboard this beautiful planet with a reading of my favorite poem by e.e. Cummings, #26
“Like the crocus that pushes into spring willy-nilly, the artist also pushes forward into growth. The crocus lies beneath the snow waiting for the slightest touch of warmth to spring forth. Like the crocus, the artist does not pause to ask if his work is timely or welcome. Critical reception will perhaps be chilly like an unseasonal snow, but like the crocus, the artist survives.”
–Julia Cameron, Finding Water: The Art of Perseverance
May you be safe and healthy and continue pushing forward into growth.
A bluebird couple caught my attention yesterday with their noisy fighting and flapping above the birdhouse. The male flew off to perch on the trellis several feet away. He lodged his complaints to the raspberry vine in a grumpy sequence of whistling, squeaky chirps. The budding vine listened patiently. Bluebird arguments are adorable.
Um…hello lettuce, you little renegade. That is not where I put you to bed. That sneaky wind put you up to this, I bet. You are thriving in the rocks and sand, of all things! I didn’t even know that was possible. And yet here we are.
I’m pretty sure that yellow-flowered plant is spinach. At least it tasted sweetish and spinach-like even after it bolted and bloomed. It looked like it could be broccoli when it started bolting. On my garden map I wrote “beans” in that location. It’s definitely not beans.
The best things are nearest: breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of God just before you. Then do not grab at the stars, but do life’s plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things of life.
–Robert Louis Stevenson
What are ya’ll making out there?
The earth flower and sky flower unite.
Once upon a long time ago (a couple hundred million years ago according to evolutionary biologists), there were no flowers. And darkness was upon the face of the deep (according to other authors of ancient history).
Then suddenly flowers came into being.
Thank goodness.
“Flowers changed everything.”
–Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire
Indeed.
Fast forwarding to the present: I found these beauties suffocating in a cheap cellophane cocoon and stuffed in the discount bin at the grocery store. They cleaned up quite nicely.
You reach out with any little part of yourself and rise from the dirt to be what you are. How you make my heart ache with your sense of belonging.
Vanity of vanities! We all have the same breath.
(Solomon was right.)
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