We hold our breath, sitting as still as a freeway during morning commute. Its wings flutter at a possible eighty times per second, so we’ve read.
It closes the distance between us, and we know it eyes the dangling rosy petals. But below those blossoms lies the sleeping dog. He wouldn’t be the least bit interested in the winged creature, but the winged creature doesn’t know this to be true.
And so, we watch our tiny friend flit to within a few feet of the blooms, then disappointment lands in our thoughts as it retreats to the maple, camouflaged to the naked eye.
If only it could be brave. If only it knew there was no threat below from the sleeping beast. In fact, the beast quietly snores, and we are confident he is dreaming of squirrels.
I look across the backyard with a heavy sigh, just a few weeks ago, the broom had done its job, the garden gloves lie in the shed, caked with flakes of dirt, exhausted from pulling weeds that had the nerve to sprout abundantly, as though they are admired as much as the glorious lavender hydrangeas.
Now, crunchy yellow leaves inundate the grass, as if Mother Nature gently laid down a blanket of gold. The wardrobe changes of the leaves, pirouetting to the ground, lead to the season when Gratitude is placed on a pedestal, paying homage more than any given day, which leads us to the turkey brining in a citrusy concoction. The carving knife and gravy ladle eager to present their annual performance. The formal dinnerware excited to display its shiny patina. The gathering.
And on this special day, the sky and sun will collaborate to create a bright blue backdrop, no clouds invited to this celebration, not even a breath of wind will drift through, or one tiny raindrop will fall on this event, just a high temperature cool enough to welcome a sweater, the kind of weather that would delight them both.
He would ask for a beverage before sitting down, and then even after sinking into the soft sofa, his hand would caress the glass for minutes. He would pause before taking a sip.
Because before partaking in the festivities, he, who lived through the second world war, would slowly absorb the noise, the laughter, the chaos, the loved ones…
Whether or not you celebrate Thanksgiving, I wish you the feeling of Gratitude in your hearts that will last a lifetime. Sending wishes for a blessed Thanksgiving! 🧡🍁🍂
A few days ago, I was inspired byMarina’s post:https://marinakanavaki.com/2022/11/03/the-clouds-sometimes/. She is a dear, dear friend and a fabulous painter, photographer, and musician. And we share the same love of clouds, or truthfully, any artwork the sky chooses to display. So much that we agree we can never have too many photos! If you don’t know Marina, I hope you’ll pay her beautiful site a visit. So, no poetry or story today, just photos from a morning walk – a sky that took my breath away…
Hope you enjoyed and I wish you a marvelous Monday!
When we stroll through a redwood grove, our steps become gradual, knowing we are in good company. We don’t want to rush the experience, and we won’t hesitate to hug them with wide open arms, because, why not? They deserve reverence for their generosity. You see, in their company, we feel silk threads of peace flowing through our hearts and souls, centering us. Any worries burdening our minds before fall to the earth to be walked upon and buried. And we listen as their leaves whisper to us in the breeze, “Be filled with joy and do not fret, for there is no time for that nonsense.”
Lauren Scott, baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.
Fresh raindrops gently landed on their wilted spirits, and I witnessed them lifting with a sigh of relief. Oh, how grateful I feel to absorb the rhythm of the pitter-patter.
Lauren Scott, baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved
For inspiration to notice surrounding beauty, to feel gratitude, to face challenges and fears while sipping your favorite coffee roast or a beverage of your choice, check out my latest book: More than Coffee.