426. Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet… thanking the Lord for a life so sweet. ~Jean Ingelow

July 15, 2014 by nataliescarberry

I seeeeeee yoooou!
But from where did you come?
You were not into the camera’s eye at first.
Perhaps it was because my focus
was solely upon your handsome home.
But now that I have spied you,
I wonder if you’ve come into view
in fear of what I’m up to.
But you need not worry Mr. Hophopper
for I will not try to catch or harm you;
I want merely to capture your image
with the magic of my camera.
~Natalie Scarberry

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean–
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down–
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

~Mary Oliver

Let us come before Him with thanksgiving an extol Him with music and song. ~Psalm 95:2 ✝

Thank you, Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! You have captured me with grace and I’m caught in Your infinite embrace! Like Saint Hildegard Lord, may I too be a feather on your holy breath and spread, like seeds, the gospel abroad.

415. In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary. ~Aaron Rose

July 3, 2014 by nataliescarberry

Light gives of itself freely,
filling all available space.
It does not seek anything in return;
it asks not whether you are friend or foe.
It gives of itself
and is not thereby diminished.
~Michael Strassfeld

It was day’s end, and the light had almost drained out of the day, but before the sun vanished, it filled a portion of one last cup with its splendor. This hibiscus had been perched atop its stem since first light, and now it was one of the fortunate “available spaces” to be kissed by the last light of day as well. The flower that had been a thing of great beauty all the live long day was a chalice to be blessed one last time by an essential piece of Creation, light.

For with you(God) is the fountain of life; in your light we see light. ~Psalm 36:9 ✝

Thank you, Lord Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! You have captured me with grace and I’m caught in Your infinite embrace! Like Saint Hildegard Lord, may I too be a feather on your holy breath and spread, like seeds, the gospel abroad.

401. Tough as a mule, big as imagination, pretty as a summer dress, eternal as the sky. ~Steve Bender

June 19, 2014 by nataliescarberry

One little, two little, three little flowers
Four little, five little, six little flowers
Seven little, eight little, nine little flowers
Ten little blooming pinknesses!

Bender’s words above describe crinum lilies, which he says are “also called hot country lilies.” In the article that Steve wrote about crinums, he went on to say that “forever Southerners have cultivated, swapped, and rhapsodized about these bulbs, according them nearly legendary status.” He, himself, remembers sitting on his grandmother’s porch with crinum clumps on either side, and as their fragrance enveloped him, he thought it was the most pleasant thing on earth.

First there was one, and I was thrilled. Then there were two, and I was beyond thrilled. Now there are three and I am overwhelmed with gladness and gratitude for what has been born of faith, hope, and love. So far my newly acquired crinum bulb that I wrote about last weekend has produced three large flower stalks from its strappy green foliage, and each stalk has produced at least ten showy pink blossoms. How much more blessed can one little gardener be!

Where flowers bloom so does hope.
~Lady Bird Johnson

With a few flowers in my garden,
half a dozen picture and some books,
I live without envy.
~Lope de Vega

Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. ~Psalm 25:5 ✝

369. I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life only to the culture of them and the study of nature. ~Abraham Cowley

May 15, 2014 by nataliescarberry

Riotous Garden

I love my old riotous garden,
Its unconcern gladdens the heart;
No method whate’er in its beauty,
For nature supreme reigns in art.

Each path leads to some spot enchanting,
Full fragrant with prodigal bloom,
Where robins, gay, warble approval,
In carols dispersing all gloom.

To entertain angels and fairies
Seems just the correct thing to do,
They’re always so loving and gentle,
With heart blessed by charity true.

Here beautiful thoughts without pattern,
Where God sheds His blessings divine,
Form poems from nebulous nothings
In this riotous garden of mine.
~Julie Caroline O’Hara

Surely you have granted him unending blessings and made him glad with the joy of Your presence. ~Psalm 21:6 ✝

Thank you, Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! You have captured me with grace and I’m caught in Your infinite embrace!

362. But the true lover of rain…. has a deep inner enjoyment of the rain, as rain, and his sense of its beauty drinks it in as thirstily as does the drinking earth. ~John Richard Vernon

May 8, 2014 by nataliescarberry

http://www.encyclo.co.uk/define/pluviophile

pluviophile (s) (noun), pluviophiles (pl)
1. Anyone or anything that has a fondness for or a desire for rain: “There are many plants that are pluviophiles because they need an abundance of rain in order to survive and to reproduce.
2. Etymology: literally, “a love or fondness for rain” from pluvio-, “rain” + phile, “fondness, love.”

Okay, I admit it. I am one, a pluviophile, that is! I’ve always loved the rain and now that I’ve spent a half a century in a place that experiences long periods of drought, I value rain even more. It is one of those miracles of life that the Lord built into the fabric of Creation. So today, when we were blessed with a lovely bit of rain I found myself joyfully doing this…

I’m singin’ in the rain
Just singin’ in the rain,
What a glorious feeling,
And I’m happy again.
Let the stormy clouds chase.
Everyone from the place,
Come on with the rain
I have a smile on my face.
I’ll walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin’, singin’ in the rain.
~Excerpts of lyrics by Arthur Freed

The richness of the rain made me feel safe and protected; I have always considered the rain to be healing—a blanket—the comfort of a friend. Without at least some rain in any given day, or at least a cloud or two on the horizon, I feel overwhelmed by the information of sunlight and yearn for the vital, muffling gift of falling water. ~Douglas Coupland

Have you ever just stopped and listened to rain slap the ground? I think it sounds like thousands of people applauding sometimes, but I like to think it’s God’s creation, applauding and thanking Him for a much needed drink of water. ~John Stepan

I will proclaim the name of the Lord. Oh, praise the greatness of our God! ~Deuteronomy 32:3 ✝

Thank you, Lord Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! You have captured me with grace and I’m caught in Your infinite embrace!

329. Every April, God rewrites the Book of Genesis. ~Author Unknown

April 6, 2014 by nataliescarberry

That God once loved a garden
we learn in holy writ.
And seeing gardens in the Spring
I well can credit it.
~Winifred Mary Letts

There’s just something very reassuring about springtime, isn’t there? It tells us that what God put in place is still in place and that renewal is as much a part of life as anything else. Death may be undeniable, but so is life.

Come rain and speak of rivers and seas and holy healing waters.
Rise sun and speak of nurturing warmth and holy grace.
Blossom flower and speak of beauty and holy mysteries.
Hum bee and speak of faithful and ordained holy purpose.
Sing bird and speak of joy and grateful thanksgiving.
Beat heart and speak of pulsing rhythms and coursing holiness.
Move breath and speak of God within and holy beginnings.
Walk feet and speak of the road to Emmaus and holy encounters.
Twinkle stars and speak of the void filled by God’s holy, life-giving hands.
Speak silence of the Ancient of Days who’s waiting to be heard.
Shine light, drive darkness away, and speak of Christ’s redemptive work.
Come love and speak of peace and sacred surrender.

Truth shall spring out of the earth; and righteousness shall look down from heaven. ~Psalm 85:11 ✝

Thank you, Lord Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! You have captured me with grace and I’m caught in Your infinite embrace!

**Photo via Pinterest.

304. The sun has come out…and the air is vivid with the coming spring’s light. ~Adapted excerpt from Byron Caldwell Smith

March 12, 2014 by nataliescarberry

Let me arise and open the gate,
to breathe the wild warm air…
To let Life in, and to let out Death.
~Violet Fane

Blow, Breath of heaven, blow! Blow through the land and over the waters. Carry away death’s dark vapors and let life in. Let every mountain, plain, and valley break forth in gladness. Let the “wild warm air” of coming spring spark life in every nook and cranny. Let the ceaseless waves of the seas and the rushing currents of rivers roar with renewed passion for life. Let the clouds suckle earth’s waters and send rain from heaven to moisten the earth and let loose her flowering. Let life, whole and vibrant, dazzle us anew. Blow, sweet Breath of heaven, blow! Blow through Your children and take us down to the bottom of our souls where You, O God, the Breath of all things, are present “deep within all that has life.” We who have traversed icy winter’s dark domain yearn to feel your warmth and vitality course in us and all of life again. We long for earth and sky’s vast array of bright colors to take away winter’s preponderance of grays and browns. O Holy One, come; let us see You “in every emanation of Creation’s life.” We give you glory and thanks for all that You are, for Your ever-lasting goodness and never-ending love, “for creatures stirring forth,” “for plant forms stretching and unfolding,” “for the stable earth and its solid rocks.” O blessed Breath of heaven, arise and blow life afresh through Eden’s gates! (Quoted phrases from SOUNDS OF THE ETERNAL by J. Philip Newell)

By the word of the LORD were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of His mouth. ~Psalm 33:6 ✝

**photos via Pinterest

297. Hand in hand, with fairy grace, will we sing, and bless this place. ~William Shakespeare, English poet and playwright

March 5, 2014 by nataliescarberry

No child but must remember laying his head in the grass,
staring into the infinitesimal forest
and seeing it grow populous with fairy armies.
~Robert Louis Stevenson, Scottish poet

Digitalis, from the Latin Digitabulum, a thimble, derives its common name from the shape of its flowers that resemble the finger of a glove. It’s a flower we call Foxglove, which delights to grow in deep hollows and woody dells. However, it was originally called Folksglove because that’s where they, fairies or “good folk,” were thought to live. Folksglove is one of the oldest names for Digitalis (Foxglove) and is mentioned in a list of plants as old as the time of Edward III. The earliest known form of the word is the Anglo-Saxon foxes glofa (the glove of the fox, and the Norwegian name Revbielde that translates to Foxbell alludes to the Fox. It is a name which may have come about from a northern legend about bad fairies who supposedly gave the blossoms of Digitalis to foxes to be put upon their toes so as to soften their tread when prowling amongst the roosts.

I adore Foxglove and believe no other flower in the garden lends itself better to stories of fairies and elves than it does. Its dangling thimbles or gloves or bells or fingers or whatever one might call them look like enchanted, magical places where children would naturally look for the “wee folk” to lurk. Nor is it surprising that there have been suppositions claiming the mottling in the flowers mark, like the spots on butterfly wings and on the tails of peacocks and pheasants, where elves have placed their fingers. Though no longer a child, I have to agree in part with the writer Charles de Lint who penned, “We call them faerie. We don’t believe in them. Our loss.” Sometimes, it does one a world of good to remember what it was like to be an imaginative child, full of awe and wonder and given to flights of fantasy.

Happy is he who still loves
something he loved in the nursery:
He has not been broken in two by time;
he is not two men, but one,
and he has saved not only his soul but his life.
~G. K. Chesterton, English writer, poet,
and lay theologian

If we opened our mind with enjoyment, we might
find tranquil pleasures spread about us on every side.
We might live with the angels that visit us on every sunbeam,
and sit with the fairies who wait on every flower.
~Samuel Smiles, Scottish author

May the Lord give you increase, both you and your children. May you be blessed by the Lord, who made heaven and earth. ~Psalm 115:14-15 ✝

266. When hope is hungry, everything feeds it. ~Mignon McLaughlin

February 1, 2014 by nataliescarberry

Though you lose all hope,
there is still hope,
and it loves to surprise.
~Robert Brault

Goodbye January and hello February! Whew, January is a long month, isn’t it?! So much so that it makes my hope very hungry indeed. Dada, dada da da da! I said hello, February…well hello February…It’s so nice you’ve finally come around again. You’re lookin’ swell, February…And time will tell February…That spring’s a comin’ February… Okay, to appreciate my attempt here at “cleverosity” with the previous lines, you have to try to remember a song from a musical by the same name called HELLO DOLLY. Okay, so maybe it was a lame attempt, but today is just that kind of day, one that puts a song in my heart. Why? Why you ask? Well…

About the time the barrenness of winter starts putting asunder all hope of anything different, February saves the day by bringing forth visible signs of the new spring. And so it did this year on its very first day. After I’d watered and waited and watched the bulbs I’d started weeks ago in the greenhouse, I was rewarded today with several emerging buds. The result: squeals of joy peeled forth inside its walls along with hallelujahs and praise for such glorious surprises amid winter’s gloomy, brown and beige drabness. But they’re just flowers some might say, but pshaw! They are pieces in the puzzle of Creation itself, blessed and holy and full of purpose. They’ve been touched by the very hand of God and then ordained as part of the faithful and reoccurring provision not only for man’s needs but for his pleasure as well. And if flowers are inconsequential why are so many poems and pieces of literature devoted to them, and why are they considered by many as desirable gifts, and why are their scents revered for use in perfumes, and why have they been worth at times more than gold?

“Come, therefore, let us enjoy the good things that exist, and make use of the creation to the full as in youth. Let us take our fill of costly wine and perfumes, and let no flower of spring pass us by. Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither…” ~Wisdom 2:6-8 ✝

235. The camera can photograph thought. ~Dirk Bogarde, English actor and writer

January 1, 2014 by nataliescarberry

It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? for the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop. Growth is exciting; growth is dynamic and alarming. Growth of the soul, growth of the mind. ~Vita Sackville-West

Ah blessed sight, a function that is considered to be the most complex of the five senses. From the moment we wake until we close our eyes to sleep, our eyes act like a camera recording in memory what is seen. For many, there is a compulsion to replicate what the eye sees. Some use an actual camera to capture memorable images, some a paint brush, others the written word, and then there are those who are want to use more than one medium. So it seems that something more than the optical nerve is touched by sight, does it not? Perhaps the eye touches the soul as well.

He is your praise; he is your God, who has done for you these great and awesome things that your own eyes have seen. ~Deuteronomy 10:21 ✝

Sacred Touches

Life is a time of purpose and anointed blossoming…

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