Category Archives: Notes
1406. Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me. ~Walt Whitman
Sometimes thou may’st walk in groves
which being full of majestie
will much advance the soul.
~Thomas Vaughan

When I think of autumn I think of trees, all kinds of trees, and recently I ran across someone’s lovely thoughts about trees. However it wasn’t clear who wrote them or when. But I’ve decided to share some of them along with photos of trees I’ve taken over the years. And in the collection today is one that is blue, and just so you know I did nothing to make it so. There’s a phenomenon here in Texas called a blue norther which is a rapidly moving autumnal cold front that causes temperatures to drop quickly. Folk tales say they are the result of a norther that sweeps “out of the panhandle of Texas under a blue-black sky”–that is to say a cold front named for the appearance of its leading edge. And years ago I was fortunate enough to be out and about that day with my camera in hand and thus was able to capture a “blue norther.” I hope you enjoy this unknown writer’s thoughts about trees:
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farm boy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.” ~Author Unknown
You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. ~Isaiah 55:12 ✝
**All photos taken by Natalie; collage created by Natalie
Be thankful for nights that turned into mornings,

Stop being afraid of what could go wrong,
and start thinking of what could go right.
Better yet, think of everything that already is right.
Be thankful for nights that turned into mornings, friends
that turned into family, and past dreams and goals that turned into realities.
And use this positivity to fuel an even brighter tomorrow.
Text & image source: Spiritual Awakenings ॐ https://web.facebook.com/Spiritual-Awakenings-%E0%A5%90-105433989565465/
Enough
What if you were told that by the mere act of Living,
you had, in fact, been given Everything?
Would it be enough?
—-
Many take the gift of Living and rather than see it as the “everything”, instead turn it into a quest to determine what they are “lacking” and how to overcome such “lack’.
You breathe. You are alive. At some point, that must be the everything you are seeking.
1405. The sound of rain needs no translation. ~Author Unknown
I love the rain.
I love how it softens the outlines of things.
The world becomes softly blurred,
and I feel like I melt right into it.
~Hanamoto Hagumi

And in that moment,
like a swift intake of breath,
the rain came.
~Truman Capote

Rain is grace; rain is the sky
descending to the Earth;
without rain there would be no life.
~John Updike

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head
with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song
on our roof at night And I love the rain.
~Langston Hughes

It always feels so good when it’s raining outside. And as the rain falls, it slowly fills my cup with its “unsaid music” and its healing powers, powers that bring a calming mist over my spirit and cleanse my soul. It has been said that even the smell of rain helps reduce stress and raise moods up to 60%. And rain is not just a watering of the earth; it seems to me to be the “love of the sky for the earth.” So what’s not enjoy about it. I not only love the rain itself but also people who dance and smile in the rain. Some of my most favorite things in life are falling asleep in the rain or just sitting and watching the rain or finding a rain lily that has bloomed after the rains have come and gone.

…then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains… ~Deuteronomy 11:14 ✝
**Top 4 images found on the Internet; the photo of pink rain lily was taken by me in my yard
River
This life a river, running fast
O’er my heart, a calloused stone.
Troubles seem like waters, vast
Rushing with the goal to hone.
~
Wake me up, let waters flow.
Move me so that I give in.
Use this river and do show
Where I stray and where I sin.
~
Mold my cold and stony heart
Into the shape you have it be.
I know pain will have a part
For my heart to be set free.
~
Put in me, o God, your heart.
Help me live with love inside.
Help me receive what you impart.
Help me put away my pride.
~
Your design, Jesus, for sure
Is what I want and what I seek.
So I stay, wait, and endure
Knowing waters will recede.
Ken, from the moment you stuck these words into your guitar-case and said you wanted to let your guitar get aquatinted with…
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As one
We run our thoughts through scenes,
colored images exploring the realms
in empty spaces found
dipping our mind in to swirl it around
mix it all up creating something new
special and sincere
like rain on a solitary afternoon
we become as one
feeling the drops fall
plopping down to the ground
making a mighty splat
we marvel at the makings
of natures art.
Watered down days of paintbrush strokes
and songs that soothe the mind
relaxing us into the place
where artists dwell unseen,
we blend in becoming
something new from ingredients found
in dreams and ideas
we craft them into collages
sea shells and waves
on blank canvas we shuffle it here
and then there
trying to fit pieces in to appeal,
we realize there is a bit of us
within each frame,
as love is all in the end
we evaporate to become
the images of our…
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Who
In time, always remember-
May you worry less about who you think you ARE
and may you worry more about who you are MEANT TO BE
1404. Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. ~Carl Sandburg
The world is full of poetry.
The air is living with spirit;
and
the waves dance to the music of its melodies,
and sparkle in its brightness
.
~James Gates Percival

Sometime between the 8th and 9th grade in school, I decided that I didn’t like poetry at all and that I would never be a teacher, especially NOT an English teacher. All three pronouncements eventually became lies however as I spenr 31 years as a public school educator, half of which were spent teaching English. And I also came to truly love poetry. So I’ve questioned over the years the wisdom of teaching to young teenages works like the epic poem Beowulf, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, the longest poem ever written by Coleridge, and Poe’s The Raven which has been called an allegory or a work that falls into didacticism. It does seem to be a bit over the top for 13, 14, and 15 year olds even very intelligent ones, don’t you think? And how many others, like me, who, as a result of similar early encounters with such challenging pieces of literature, really began detesting poetry and subsequently never came into an appreciation of it? Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for challenging learners at any age, but there is just something about poetry, at least the kinds that I mentioned, that teenagers are not quite able to truly understand and/or appreciate. Of course there are a few who could or would maybe, but I’ve often thought that perhaps most, when faced with such daunting literary works, never learned to love poetry or find inspiration in it. Then there was the fact that back in the dark ages when I was in school, not only did we have to read those “thorny” poems, but we also had to memorize passages from them and eventually stand up in front of class and recite the lines for a grade. I don’t know about the rest of you, but that strikes terror in the hearts of many a student at that age including myself on occasion. However, now some 50+ decades later, I enjoy being able to yet quote some of those lines. In addition I love the genre of poetry, a large and growing number of poems, and the poets who crafted them, even if they are or were individuals who lived less than stellar or troubled lives. For example, I recently read The Raven for the first time in forever, and although Poe led a fairly sordid life filled with ordeals, I couldn’t help but be awestruck by the beauty and musicality of the poem as well as by the bits of great wisdom I found either in some of the lines themselves or between them. After all life has always been made up of “the good, the bad, and the ugly,” hasn’t it? So I’ve decided today to share a poem I like once a week in hopes that it will speak to you as many have spoken to me. After all we bloggers are writers of sorts and some are even poets so I think most of us appreciate the beauty of poetic words, rhyming or not. Thus I hope you enjoy poetic Wordy Wednesday postings in addition to pictographic Wordless Wednesday posts.
The Wishing Fish
BY THOMAS VORCE
What if you could be a trout
And splash and flip And flop about.
Amidst the river’s ripples you
Would catch sun shimmers
And renew the summer wind.
You’d stop to chat With trouty friends
And make amends.
Or discourse on the willow’s bend.
The gala of the water’s course,
Like laughter of a child,
Would run along your gullet
With the mystery of the wild.
And every wish you ever heard
Would be in chorus with the birds.
As palettes made of rainbows play,
You’d flap your fins
To greet the day.
Along the banks you’d rest at night
And fire flies like lamps would light
The glowing of the August Moon,
Where fish make wishes of their own
And all the best remains unknown.
The person without the Spirit does not accept things that come from the Spirit of God but considers them foolishness, and cannot understand them because they are discerned only through the Spirit. ~1 Corinthians 2:14 ✝
**Image found on Pinterest
Another pink Wordless Wednesday…




**Pimk morning glory photos taken by me in my yard


