These October Days

These early October days hang, suspended between full summer and dark November. The blue bowl of the sky seems rounder, its shape accentuated by sharp silhouettes of trees and hills. 
 

As the days slip by and we go about our daily tasks - home, work, school, church, community - each of us absorbed with life. But for some these days hang, suspended between hope and despair. 

A young couple loses their first baby just days after birth. They go home from the hospital with empty, aching hearts. In tears I pray for comfort.

Friends wait for appointments, slow to come, to determine the cause of worrisome symptoms. Frustration mingles with fear of the unknown. I pray for peace and action.
 

Rose hips hang now against the blue sky where scented wild roses once arched. To everything a season.

Others I know embark upon waiting, too. Days are filled with the ordinary tasks, but behind each one lies questions. I pray for grace.
 

And still the sun shines, the leaves delight with their colors, and the marvelous beauty of this paradoxical world fills us with wonder and gratitude.

Linking to Mosaic Monday. 

Walking and Thinking

 Pale grasses rustle in the breeze. How welcome is the sun's warmth against my face. My camera swings from one cold hand, gloves forgotten. 

One corner of my mind looks out for photo possibilities, but most of my thoughts are taken up with pondering life. Curves in the path. Unknown future. Tangled branches.  My father told me once, many years ago, that he'd assumed that by the time he reached his mid-50s life would settle down into an even pattern. "No," he assured me, "life has twists and turns however long it may be."
 

A robin flies across my path and alights in a leafless tree. How beautiful his practiced flight. How jaunty his perch. He seems to have no thought of what-to-do, what-to-do, but instead does what comes next to simply survive. Does he revel in the sun's warmth? The bright blue above? 
 

I press on. Through the darkest part of the trail where a stream trickles or gushes under a wooden bridge. A little further and there, just where the trail comes to a T, I spy a hint of fresh green. An involuntary cry of delight -"oh Spring" - and I find more tiny leaf buds.  Hope rushes up. Winter blasts may lie ahead, but spring will come.
 

Sere grasses, serene water and placid ducks. Harmonies of colour and texture. Shadows enhance, rather than detract from the beauty. Shadow in the foreground, light in the distance. Trusting that God will lead, moment by moment. There's the hope.

Home again. Mind at rest, body relaxed. Tell me, where, and or when, do you do your best thinking?

A Hint of Spring

Smoke curls from the chimneys.
Sullen gray sky.
White-covered ground, or soggy bare brown.


Anticipating the January doldrums, I planted, in mid-December, several pots of paper white narcissus.  

Now, faint, intoxicating scent drifts through the air. So sweet, so evocative of warmer, sunnier days to come. The magic of creation - such beauty contained in dull bulbs. Hope. 


Just a clarification - in my last post I gave in to a bit of silliness. I am not really hoping for a castle/house exchange. But I wouldn't turn one down, either.