Stop and look and take it in!

Standard

Autumn is breaking in all its multicoloured splendour. Flaming ivy on the wall, lakeside trees tinted orange and yellow, the mornings a chill fog, evenings needing a comfy blanket to cuddle in. Winter has yet to show its face, no need to turn the heating on quite yet. Thick sweaters grace the cupboard again, ready, but not quite needed yet. Strappy T shirts and shorts, sundresses and sandals are packed away. Summer fades behind us. Like trees dropping leaves we forsake summer dreams. Christmas is glimpsed on the far off horizon; meanwhile we gaze in wonder at the beauty of decay transforming the world in glorious hues.

All has its day.

Standard

Seasons come and go
Each a special flavor,
Marking out the times within my span,
Summer departs, the glory of sunshine,
Still water and gentle breezes dims.
Flowers fade.
Seeds disperse, ensuring the next generation.
I recall seasons long past,
Indulge nostalgia
When together we dreamed of peace.
I must not linger in summer,
But divest myself of its joys,
Put on longer sleeves,
Turn thoughts to warm heaters, hot chocolate…
Embrace each season’s splendor
Watch for the red tints (I know where they grow)
Kick the leaves,
Enjoy the new swishing songs.
Not mourn the loss of summer,
Embrace always things to come
Even so is life.

A Strange Physician.

Standard

(from September 2014)

Song Bird Songs

oak tree

Leaves rustled in the early morning breeze, the trees seemed to quiver at her approach as if in sympathy. She had to go, come to her special place, the place she felt the comfort of eons.
Sitting beneath the old oak that had sheltered her as a child she let go, face in hands, sobs rending the silent stillness. When she could no longer hold on to her smile, when she felt the pressure build to an unbearable pitch she came here.
John was slowly wasting away and there was nothing they could do to stop it. His giant frame that had once carried her across the threshold was now worn and shriveled like a deceased nut in its skeletal shell, skin stretched over bone in lurid relief, a travesty of her man.

She had to smile for him, had to go on loving till her heart tore in tiny…

View original post 198 more words

LIFE’S SEASONS. (from July 2014)

Standard

last leaves

Days pass like leafed messengers floating on the breeze, quiet, silent, unobtrusive, they fall away revealing the bough on which they grew and growing had their day. The substance within was what nourished them. The rising sap of spring made the crowning leaves of summer, and now… now its autumn and the leaves gently fall carried on the wind.

Sap retreats for it feels the touch of frost in the air, but the branch remains, a limb of sturdy oak it yet defies the blast of winter. The tree stands still and silent in the forest. When the winds come it shall move and sigh forth its sounds in the gale. It shall give shelter, though lost forever it seems is that gentle running current within that dressed it so beguilingly in green foliage.

Once there were many leaves, now but few. Life’s autumn season is one of humility, yet this season reveals, hidden strength, grown by the living sap at work within. The dainty leaves couldn’t stand the frost but this bough can weather winters blast having grown supple in summer storms. It knows, deep within, the sap still resides. Unseen, unheard, it awaits the spring when again it shall burst forth in a flurry of leafed glory and rise up to the heavens to dress the leafy boughs in splendor. The sap has not gone, the tree yet lives. Its boughs now collect beauty of a different sort; more splendid than before as, dressed in white, it patterns the heavens.

It is in winter a tree is best seen, when nothing of vanity remains, just strong, lithe limbs reaching upward in defiance of the weights of earth. It is at this time that its power and beauty are revealed, a sight to stir the senses more than its former gaudy plumage. Winter is the true revealer of the tree.

Do not fear these passing days of leaves that seem to fade before you as they skim and dance in the wind. Without those leaves you can stand fearless in the wind. It passes through your empty branches and finds naught on which to take hold as you sway and dance in its presence, till one day, the sun arises and you feel a tingling deep in your roots. You know what it is, for you felt its coming before, the sap rises.

As spring turns to summer

Standard

IMG_0059

(View from my bed)

I linger this morning taking in the sunshine and gentle breeze. Grandson departed for the weekend, it’s just me and the sunshine. Nostalgia gone this morning I’m basking in English spring (remembering there is no real spring in China where I lived just rain, more rain, then the heat of summer). In South China beauty reigns in autumn but in England in the spring.

I think it was Kipling that wrote from India, “Oh to be in England now that April’s here,” (and May and June…)

It’s a time to be here to see nature awaken and blossom, to feel the chill winds turn to cooling breezes. I am reminded that where ever I am to be content, to take in the beauty that surrounds me and to breathe it out to others, sharing these breaths of nature’s bounty. The hand of God is everywhere!

Winter’s secret.

Standard

IMG_0030

For everything there is a season.

Winter is a time the land rests from its giving, when it withdraws in contemplation. Spring and summer are times of labour, of productivity, autumn of harvesting, but in late autumn and winter the leaves fall, there’s an emptiness in the air.

It’s all still there, hidden down under the earth it remains alive, but trees stand empty, unadorned showing their strength.

Life’s Seasons.

Standard

last leaves

Days pass like leafed messengers floating on the breeze, quiet, silent, unobtrusive, they fall away revealing the bough on which they grew and growing had their day. The substance within was what nourished them. The rising sap of spring made the crowning leaves of summer, and now… now its autumn and the leaves gently fall carried on the wind.

Sap retreats for it feels the touch of frost in the air, but the branch remains, a limb of sturdy oak it yet defies the blast of winter. The tree stands still and silent in the forest. When the winds come it shall move and sigh forth its sounds in the gale. It shall give shelter, though lost forever it seems is that gentle running current within that dressed it so beguilingly in green foliage.

Once there were many leaves, now but few. Life’s autumn season is one of humility, yet this season reveals, hidden strength, grown by the living sap at work within. The dainty leaves couldn’t stand the frost but this bough can weather winters blast having grown supple in summer storms. It knows, deep within, the sap still resides. Unseen, unheard, it awaits the spring when again it shall burst forth in a flurry of leafed glory and rise up to the heavens to dress the leafy boughs in splendor. The sap has not gone, the tree yet lives. Its boughs now collect beauty of a different sort; more splendid than before as, dressed in white, it patterns the heavens.

It is in winter a tree is best seen, when nothing of vanity remains, just strong, lithe limbs reaching upward in defiance of the weights of earth. It is at this time that its power and beauty are revealed, a sight to stir the senses more than its former gaudy plumage. Winter is the true revealer of the tree.

Do not fear these passing days of leaves that seem to fade before you as they skim and dance in the wind. Without those leaves you can stand fearless in the wind. It passes through your empty branches and finds naught on which to take hold as you sway and dance in its presence, till one day, the sun arises and you feel a tingling deep in your roots. You know what it is, for you felt its coming before, the sap rises.