Nature

King of the Hay

Everyone has certain special things that make them smile. For me, one of those things is being around goats.

I remember one of the times my parents and I went to a local farm that we visit frequently. That particular day there were 2 baby goats, so small they could barely walk, their little legs wobbly, and their tiny voices high-pitched. One baby goat was shy, afraid, seeking shelter near his mother. But the other baby goat wanted to experience everything the world had to offer.

Fresh Apples

Once a year in the fall, my uncle would drive us to a place filled with all kinds of fresh apples. They were in hundreds of tall, round baskets. The place was called Aspetuck. It was an old farm stand, a large wooden room, like a barn, filled with apples everywhere.

The aroma of the apples was overwhelming, like a perfume made from all the different kinds of apples. We’d bring the aroma home with us. And they were beautiful to look at, too. The yellow leaves had fallen, and were falling, all around us. This is pure New England fall.

Hum of the Meadow

I love walking in a meadow of tall grasses. It’s like wading though dry water. I can hear the “swish, swish” of the grasses as they speak among themselves.

And then the best part – the high pitch hum of the crickets. Not individual crickets, but all of them united – one unending, beautiful sound. I always really like this sound, and look forward to hearing it. However, it became even more profound for me after I started meditating many years ago. Within 3 days, my ears started ringing during meditation with exactly this sound of the crickets.

I Talk to Plants

I talk to plants. I mean, I don’t do this every day, but I have talked with some plants. I read how to do this in a book, The Secret Teachings of Plants, and I decided to try it myself.

I move my awareness to the middle of my chest. It’s usually in the middle of my head. I see it like a ball of white light moving from my head to my heart. I close my eyes, and tell the plant, “I want to speak with you and learn from you.” It also helps if I imagine myself filling the plant – into its leaves, into its branches, into its trunk, into its roots.

Where the Animals Live

I like to be near the animals – the farm animals.

Maybe it’s a memory of an earlier, quieter, idyllic time. Perhaps it’s not a memory, but a longing for that time.

The animals are so direct. It seems like they present themselves totally, nothing hidden. The sheep and lambs just ask you to feel their wool – deep, curly wool, that you you can sink your hands into. Once one starts “baa’ing,” the others start too, and soon everyone of them is “baa’ing.”

A Place That Seems Alive

Artwork by Bruce Zboray www.bruce-zboray.artistwebsites.com


Did you ever have a place that you keep going back to, again and again, because it makes you feel so good? I mean, it’s like the land itself is calling, like a friend.

One of my favorite places is the grounds of Shakespeare Theater in Stratford, Ct. In the 1950’s and 1960’s this was a very popular theater. It seems like the joy of that time still lives on the grounds, or perhaps some deep joy was there already, even before the theater.

Bubbles on the Beach

I am on the beach.

The sand feels warm and inviting on my feet.

I love the “swish, swish” of the waves.
The pebbles are tumbled, soft clear white.
The seashells call to me to look at them.

A child is making a sand castle, with a red, metal pale.
Another child is blowing bubbles.
A single bubble floats by me.

I am happy.
I see myself in the bubble, happy, along with this whole beach, sky, and ocean, in that little bubble.
It floats away to carry my happiness beyond me.

The Evening Flutter

You’re sitting in a comfortable chair, around eight P.M., and the sun is gently lowered behind a tall oak tree.

A basket of red flowered petunias grows out of an orange ceramic pot. It’s very quiet.

You have a few birds chatting high up in the apple tree to your right, and two sparrows are hopping along the grass, searching for that last evening snack.

Out of nowhere, you hear a distant rumble. It’s very faint, very subtle. Barely audible. Barely distinguishable.

Lightning in a Bottle

It’s a hot, sultry evening. The sun’s warm rays, basking the earth all day, has left a comfortable blanket covering the front lawn.

The moon is new, and the darkness that swept in with the outgoing sun provides a perfect background for a laser light show.

How peaceful and utterly void of light is your yard. It’s dark, and you’re enjoying the tranquility that accompanies absolute stillness.

What’s that? Hey what was that?

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you saw a flash of light.

There it is again!

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