Wren Babies

Today marks 200 days in a row I have intentionally spent time outside doing a 'sit spot' - connecting with nature.

The ways I am different are countless.  

What I have learned thus far is a gift that is difficult to fully put into words.  

My mind has become quieter - clearer - so I can hear God in everything and in all moments.  

My spirit has let go of so many old ideas, stories, obligations, and shame.  

My walk has become softer to match the truth of my heart.  

Words escape me more than they find their way through my mind.

I see so much is said when sometimes silence and stillness are all we need. 

I have come to understand the only moment is what we have right now.  

How I give to the moment is up to me.  

Who I show up as in each moment is up to me.

Who I am today is not who I was yesterday.  

Who I will be tomorrow is not who I am now.  

Like all that spins I am constantly changing and growing.  

Reaching for the sun is work.  For that, I am grateful.  

And when I forget all of it, I forgive myself for my imperfections and for that I am also grateful. 

For all the beautiful little things that reveal themselves to me each day a little bit more I am grateful.  

To the birds who trust my presence, I am grateful.

 For the beautiful gardens and forests and rivers I get to roam I am grateful.

 For the breeze that passes over my toes, for the sun that pulls me upward,

and for the Earth that holds me closer, I am grateful.  

For this practice I am grateful.  

And for life I am grateful.

Clover

Most of my life I have laid in this bed of white clover.

There aren't many people who can return to the same patch of clover under the same pecan tree that they laid under year after year since they were toddlers able to walk.

I remember the first time I understood that this patch of clover would be back each spring making a comfortable blanket of cool white to lay in on a hot summer day.

I'm fortunate that my relationship to the land around me runs through my veins deep.

I'm not sure if I haven't just become a part of the story this land has to tell we've been together for so long.

The dirt under my nails is the same dirt from under my nails when I was 5.

Year after year this clover grows, blooms, and the bees and butterflies, winds and rains, days and nights pass over it.

Ants march fearlessly through it.

Spiders wait for their next meal hidden in the blooms.

Year after year the clover returns a little different and yet the same.

Like the clover patch each year I change a little, grow a little more differently.

I spread a little more this way or that but at the center I am the same...

I have always been... 

rooted to the ground...

rooted to the earth around me. 

Rubrum

When I was in college these flowers among many other small flowers stole my heart.

They never give a great show.

They are humble little plants.

They hide are under the bigger more showy plants in the shade.

And yet, every year just like they did so many years ago when they finally burst with these little pink blooms they stop me and invite me to bend down each day and enjoy them for the very short time they bloom.

Epidmedium Rubrum

Down

I've been watching three male cardinals chase each other around for days. They come in chasing each other like they own the place. After a few rounds around the yard they all comply and seem to agree there is enough for all of them. They settle for dinner at the same feeder. It must be a tough decision for the  female who seems to wait for them to finish with their game before she settles in