I really enjoy looking at tree bark - the whorls and swirls of bark as it moves up the trunk of the tree. It overlaps like house shingles. And it eddies around limbs and around the stumps of fallen limbs. You see the tree holes, and the flow of the bark around them.
The patterns are mesmerizing, like watching water that is stopped.
It really seems like something is written on the tree, by the tree, over and over again.
And when a vine climbs the tree, it is even more beautiful, especially in the autumn when the vine turns red.
I love working with beets – whole, leafy, bushy beets.
Everything about them leaves this deep, ruby tint. As you rinse the giant green leaves, the red stalks look like rhubarb and tint the water red. As they drip on the steel sink, the droplets look luminescent over the cool, silver blue.
If you hold a leaf up to the light, so the sun shines thru, the leaf is a gorgeous, vibrant yellow green, contrasted with the crimson stem system running thru the leaf.
The leaves taste great raw.
Why does fire seem so alive?
That flame on a candle seems so peaceful, so meditative -- like it, itself, is putting out a presence.
A candlelit dinner. How charming.
One of the houses I pass on my walk has a gaslight lamp, that always has a flame burning.
I really like that.
I remember sparklers that we would light on the fourth of July. They’d leave a trail of light in the night air.
Perhaps these things remind us of our own sparkling light.
Did you ever go into some place that had an echo?
It’s so hard not be a kid again. Just to play with it: clap, or say “hello”, or whistle, or stomp your feet.
I am so pleasantly surprised to find places that call you back to being curious, in the moment, childlike, wonder. The New York Botanical Gardens has a fabulous tunnel connecting two buildings that’s just perfect for making echoes. Perhaps it just happened that way. I’m grateful.
You just want to play with the situation. All else stops.
I hold open a space for good things to come to me today,
Things that make me smile and remember being a young child,
Where everything was enchanted and unknown,
Like a forest unexplored,
Yet with paths here and there, and beyond.
I invite good surprise into this day today.
I declare I am awake to the hidden world that’s woven into the world we see,
Where my intuition is strong, alert, and deep,
Where I sense the meaning in the smallest of things – a feather on the ground,
And every sign you leave for me.
I love to see things that are so tangled they defy all logic to untangle or even understand their pattern.
Near our house is a Byzantine church. That in itself is so beautiful when they play the church bells with something like a piano keyboard. Anyhow, there is a huge nettle, a giant, wild hedge with small birds darting in and out.
Hundreds of birds seem to live in there. It is so amazing that they can so quickly and accurately navigate this dense and obtuse tangle of hedge at such a high speed. They must be geniuses.