The wind blew the spring grass, still short and stifled by thatch.
The trees waved mildly in the breeze, red and green leaves in bud.
The clouds shrugged and the sun shone brightly.
Time stood down and the breeze passed by,
Everywhere, and so did I.
Archive for the ‘time’ Category
Everywhere
Posted in Eternal moments, Seasons, spring, time, tagged spring on April 30, 2025| Leave a Comment »
Friday
Posted in The work week, time, tagged Friday, TGIF on January 31, 2025| Leave a Comment »
Late afternoon January sun slants in my office window.
It is Friday, TGIF to the working world.
Not wishing away time, the work week is its own experience. The day looking at computer screens, and happily spent in skin that can feel the winter sun.
It is enough.
These Eyes
Posted in Lived meaning, time, tagged consciousness, memory, time on August 26, 2023| Leave a Comment »
Decades ago, I turned a page in the magazine, Common Boundary. On the facing page was a photograph of an old woman, her eyes recessed in a plain of wrinkles, the landscape of long human life.
Her eyes were remarkable, vibrant blue, steady, deeply knowing.
The moment was profound. This extraordinary woman, the embodiment of the belief that “the eyes are a window to the soul.” I cannot recall the article. I had forgotten her eyes until this morning.
What life had she led to live within her skin and far beyond it at the same time? If there was ever a goal in life, I thought, the authenticity and honesty reflected in that gaze had to be it.
On a business trip, a hotel room anywhere. A mirror, the essential tool to minimize the lines now tracking across the map of my own face. In its reflection, I glanced into my eyes, looking at me as if I were someone else. Blue, thoughtful, knowing, steady. Seeing from and to someplace other.
In that too-quick moment, I joined the woman I so admired years and years ago. Mine was a dusty existence, I met few goals, and realized disappointment. But those eyes remain for me the mile marker of a truly lived human life. Full circle.
The Willow
Posted in memory, Nature, Reflections on the everyday, Seasons, time, tagged Pussy willows on April 3, 2023| Leave a Comment »
The sun glistens on the catkins of Salix discolor—the pussy willow—shining as the overnight frost melts.
Soft, tactile, and strong, the catkins uniformly pack branches of a tree that rivals a nearby spruce in height. Years ago, I harvested its bouquets of catkin wands and gave them away at local schools during the early spring. Over time, I realized the catkins that remained turned brilliant gold as they fill with pollen, offering the first feast of spring to hundreds of beneficial insects. I do not harvest the wands anymore.
Like so many, the pussy willow has its roots in memory. This tree is an echo of one I sprouted from a wand and planted in my mother’s garden as a child. I have always felt her in the deep wood of this bush that resides in my garden. But no more.
My mother died in the winter of her life, in the season just passed. I realized today that her presence has also exited the willow.
Far from empty, the willow is transforming again—from bare branch, to catkin, to flower, and eventually into summertime leaf. Willows are known for their vigorous roots and this bush is well planted. The wood is no longer of memory, but of self-agency. Pure life in its own right, unwound from story and seeking the sun and moon of its own journey.
I think my mother would have appreciated that.
Lucy Atop the Clock
Posted in memory, time on February 13, 2023| Leave a Comment »
Lucy waits each day away
Darling Reginald came not to play.
Nor even say “hello.”
The sun has come and sets again
Each morning Lucy rises alone.
If Wishes were Horses
Posted in memory, Nature, Seasons, time, tagged consciousness, memory, Passage of time on November 8, 2022| Leave a Comment »
The dried seed head of Allium cristophii is the size of a small cantaloupe. In bloom, the silvery violet florets create a globe atop a single stem that bears a strong resemblance to stars. The common name of the bulb is Persian onion or “Star of Persia.”
Dried, the flowers that formed the sphere give way to a multitude of spokes, each ending in a star-shaped array that nestles a tiny niche of seeds within.
One such seed head resides in my office. Dust is caught in its starry arms, even as its seeds quietly wait.
This seed head was once a magic wand in the hands of my youngest. I remember the last wish he conferred before he grew up and blew away in the autumn wind. That was years ago.
Only the wind can restore magic to this wand, and the seed wishes that remain. Stepping outside, leaves impatiently rustle under foot, the wind is high under a grey sky. I ruffle the seed head. The spokes break, the seeds are released from sleep to continue their long-lost journey, and the stem drops to decay. Last wishes.
The Spinner
Posted in memory, Reflections on the everyday, The Garden, time, tagged memory, time, wind on September 26, 2022| Leave a Comment »
About 4’ in height, the garden spinner has three wheels of descending size. Polyester ribbons affixed to each wheel were once brightly colored. The flag at the base of the spinner, a stitched red ladybug atop a green leaf, points to the direction of the wind.
For the last 20 years, the spinner has held court in the corner of the summer vegetable garden using the breeze, or the winds blustering through, to proclaim its presence. A gentle breeze moves the largest of the wheels first. A thunderstorm madly propels all three.
The spinner delighted young children playing in their sandbox or tending the garden. It gaily provided ornamentation at their high school Open House celebrations. And it stands now, bereft of color, but still fit, in its garden corner.
The spinner has welcomed and harvested the winds of two decades. It awakens in the Spring, grows quiet as Summer goes to ground in Autumn, and dreams away the Winter in the garage.
At first glance, it is now a tired old spinner whose day has passed. Is it an artifact too long held for its memory? While it enjoyed its sunny days, the bluster that overtook this place blew away its color and its more nimble nature. Visiting this summer, my oldest remarked on its longevity and rightful place in the garden. Just now, a puff of air moved its wobbly wheels, as it easily pivoted to reveal the direction of the unseen quality that powers it.
The spinner remains. As stalwart as the day I assembled its plastic and polyester pieces, it fulfills its purpose to translate what is unseen to the visible world. Not as pretty, but still a structural, kinetic marvel that defies a date with the landfill.
Things change, and sometimes, things remain.
The Snow Blankets
Posted in Eternal moments, Nature, Reflections on the everyday, time, weather, tagged consciousness, memory, Snow, time on January 8, 2022| Leave a Comment »
Glistening clouds of snow blanket the ground, the roof, the roads.
You may know these mornings. Quiet, a dog barking in the distance, conifers silhouette a deep blue sky brightening before an orange-stroked sunrise.
Winter storms pass, leaving moments of unsullied stillness. Beneath the blanket and cold, some things sleep, some perish, some wait – much like memory. Other than the energy of our blood and bones we are only memory. Some memories finally pass, others will only pass when we do.
The sun will soon dazzle the landscape with its untrammeled brilliance, blinding thought to anything but glory. Then the blankets will fray to fluid and reveal again what lies there.
Body Mechanics
Posted in Nature, Reflections on the everyday, time, tagged consciousness, human body, time on July 19, 2021| Leave a Comment »
Have you noticed? You are getting older. So am I.
At my annual physical recently – a systems check of moving parts. cardiac, respiratory, gastrointestinal, musculature, neurological, and dermatological. Blood pressure — the force at which blood courses through veins to keep major organs fit. Blood pressure is a Goldilocks statistic — neither high nor low is just right.
In concert, these systems create the song that is you. Regardless of age, the collaboration of those systems, and that song, is changing, even now. The breath and thought of today cannot be the same tomorrow.
The pithy slogan “Change Happens,” reminds those with concretized views that change comes to each life. The deeper truth is we are change, conditioned upon those beautiful physiologic systems and the environments in which we find ourselves.
Sudden or chronic illness, or accident, drives home the message. If lucky, we are allowed to live within the one body granted us until it ages out of the game. Generation after generation until humans are no more.
Life is anguish for some, joy for others, maybe most of the time somewhere in between. Bridging the space between sky and earth, our bodies are the gift that allow us to feel, express, reflect, participate. They ferry us where we want to go on the planet, in its waters, and above.
Experience is the natural and sometimes hard-won aim of biological life. When systems fail and the body slumps, the kernel that is us trills on, star stuff once again. The drama, accomplishments, losses, and possessions mean naught but as the memories of others that will fade in time.
At dawn, noon, or dusk, mind the blood, mind the body, and enjoy your glorious time while it lasts.
Push-Me-Pull-You
Posted in Psycho-Bubbles, Reflections on the everyday, time, tagged Destiny, fate, purpose on June 19, 2021| Leave a Comment »
Some are pushed by the past onto the road of their lives.
Still others drawn forward by a subtle half-light image.
The aims of each will be different.
One pulled by the future, one pushed by the past.
Which, I wonder.
Shouldn't...but Do 