Thunder Snow

Let it be known
that the chickadee and sparrow
were singing songs of spring today
as I dug myself out the tail end
of that first blizzard.

Gratitude List:
1.  Towhee at the feeder
2.  Mockingbird hanging out on the balcony
3.  Thunder snow–I know I have experienced it before, but the green lightning sort of threw me.  That was pretty exciting.
4.  The egg incident.  It’s on my gratitude list because it made me laugh today.  I started to shovel the drive this noon after I fed the hens and gathered the eggs.  There were four eggs, and somehow I forgot about them in the five minutes it took me to walk down the hill, and they were in the coat pocket on my right hip where I get a little extra leverage for tossing heavy loads of snow.  Yeah.  Egg soup in my pocket.  My coat needed a washing anyway.
5.  Reading Narnia with the boys.

May we walk in Beauty.

Wisdom from the Stone Mother, completed

This one is for Nicki Larue.  I found most of the first stanza in her words on Friday.  Oh my, I have just pooped out on this.  It’s a daunting task.  I think that I will write more of these, many more, but giving myself more than a day or two to finish. 

It’s all one big pool.
One fountain, one single source.
Only take what’s yours for today.
Connect yourself to Earth and Sky and spread your wings.
Listen through the words, for the word that gets overlooked;
that one word could hold the whole story.

You are the Teller of your own story.
Don’t be afraid to dive into the pool,
but remember not to leap before you’ve looked
and swim against the current, to your source
where you will rise from the waters, find your wings
and fly into the dawning of the day.

And it’s your new day,
each moment a new story,
the minutes winging
swiftly past, pooling
into hours, whirling into the source,
a mirror into which you look,

like an open book, you look
each blossoming day
into that source
for clues to your story,
you look into that pool
and see your reflection, with wings,

dusted with color, like butterfly wings
and you turn to look
behind you, to where a pool
of shadow heralds the ending of day,
closing another chapter in your history,
another truth drawn from your source.

Darkness descends, the source
of light extinguished, you fold your wings,
pause in the telling of the story,
listen for that one word which you have overlooked.
Watch how the night overcomes the day,
how darkness spreads outward like a pool.


Heidi Kindon suggested a poem on Nourishment.  I love it.  It’s time to step out of the form a little while and hit up a theme.  Who will join me?

Gratitude List

1.  Seven happy hens
2.  A brown egg, a beige egg, and a double-yolked blue egg
3.  Homemade doughnuts for supper!
4.  Watching Here Comes Santa Claus with the family–my favorite Christmas movie.  Yes, and nearly a month late. . .
5.  Malachite

May we walk in beauty.

Gratitude List

First Day of Kwanzaa: Umoja–Unity

1.  The Scannapieros, strangers who happen to be neighbors who drove the boys and me home this noon when our car started slipping off Ducktown Rd.  Then they went back and looked for Jon.
2.  Jon managed to back down Ducktown and get up to Mt. Pisgah on Cool Creek, getting himself home safely.
3.  Pepita has started to lay: little blue eggs!
4.  Many colors of Sharpies
5.  Deep sleep on dark nights