560. Every moment of light and dark is a miracle. ~Walt Whitman

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When you rise in the morning
give thanks for the light,
for your life,
for your strength.
Give thanks for your food
and for the joy of living.
If you see no reason to give thanks,
the fault lies in yourself.
~Chief Tecumseh, Shawnee

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Under the sun’s flares on a fairly warm, late November day, fierce winds yielded at last to gentle breezes. And then at day’s end, the setting sun generated dazzling drama in the west while moonrise began eastward with a waxing crescent moon. Up and up and up it ascended through the branches of the willow until its light shined over the tree’s top as night dropped its dark shade. Changing slowly from the sinuous sliver of a crescent moon like this one to the rounded fullness of a sphere, the great white orb of the heavens has been an endless source of wonder, charming and bewitching mortals throughout the ages as well as affecting tides, fishing activities, and the planting of crops. Its varying phases and mystical beauty have also inspired legends, myths, and romance by those who’ve lived below and gazed up at its recurrent and divine evanescence. But then any kind of light–sunlight, moonlight, candlelight, firelight, spiritual light–has always fascinated and drawn humanity into its mystery. Perhaps it’s because humans as well as and earth’s creatures sense sanctity within it. I know I do, and I’ve always wondered if wolves howl at the moon as an act of thanksgiving for their Creator or at least as a way of loving Him which makes me think that howling at the moon is not such a bad idea.

Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. ~John 1:5   ✝

** Image via Pinterest

35 thoughts on “560. Every moment of light and dark is a miracle. ~Walt Whitman”

  3. Beautiful. I managed to catch the sunrise this morning and it was amazing. On Tuesday night I was so overwhelmed by the strength and power of the sunset. I stood in awe of the magnificence of God’s beautiful gift to us. 😀

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  7. Oh I love that, I bet they do howl out of pure wonderment as something in them knows that there is Greatness and that they too are a part of it!! Such a beautiful thought!!
    I wish for you a joyous day tomorrow celebrating the bounty of your life with your family and friends—thank you Natalie for enriching my life and for being my “Texan” friend 🙂
    Joys and Hugs abound—Julie

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    • Thank you Cookie. I’m so glad you enjoyed my post and thoughts about the wolves. I wish you a wonderful Thanksgiving as well. I am thankful for your presence in my life, sweet Cookie. Love and hugs, N ❤ ❤ ❤

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  9. “I’ve always wondered if wolves howl at the moon as an act of thanksgiving for their Creator or at least as a way of loving Him which makes me think that howling at the moon is not such a bad idea.”
    –I love this Natalie. Your mind is great. The way you appreciate and ponder God’s creation, nature. Just lovely.
    Happy Thanksgiving, btw. As for me, I have much to be thankful for. It’s my birthday. I think I’ll have to celebrate and eat cake. hehehe.
    🙂 ❤

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  11. I too am draw into the image, the wonder, of wolves howling at the moon, to their creator. It reminds me that during the month of January, sometime around 3 am, I often wake up to see the moon through the top of my bedroom window. It’s a beautifully eerie time, when I want to stay half awake to watch the bright light travel slowly beyond my sight. I can understand why one might want to howl at it, as I drift back to sleep. You have such a beautiful space here.

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    • Why, thank you, JoAnne for your kind comment. I love waking up in the night when the moon’s glow seeps in through my window. I’ve always been fascinated by it and the fact that men have landed on it takes not a bit of the mystery out of it at least for me. And if I could howl, I might just do that. I’ve sure been known to sing and dance in my garden at times. I hope you’ve had a great day. Hugs, N ❤

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  15. I like to get out and howl at the moon once and a while just to clear out the old pipes. I think it keeps the lungs healthy. I know when my Father used to play the harmonica on the trap-line, all the wolves would start howling. He said they were singing, but I wasn’t sure they weren’t complaining at least a little. He never could play that thing. Lol.

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