Thursday, July 7, 2016

On Being...Day 5

The day after Independence Day...and checking the smallholding for debris, I find this huge cardboard tube smelling of gunpowder and blackened on the end.  I am grateful it's been so damp; it was a year for noise and and flaming wads shooting through the neighborhood, knocking me sideways off my chosen path of peaceful inner journeying.

Loud, unexpected, dangerous, illegal and inconsiderate noise tends to make me cranky as a bear just out of hibernation!


But...the day after is quiet and peaceful and I am beyond grateful...and paying attention.

What do the stones teach me this hot, super-humid day? To hold onto the cool of night as long as possible. To touch the earth.  Even to sweat--and I would not have noticed them had it not been for the debris. 

And had I not noticed the sweating stones by my doorstep, catching and reflecting tree and sky--and me--I would never have seen the patterned, scalloped bone, like infinitesimal fish scales, nor graceful calligraphic lines like an angel's wings...

These are turtle bones, or fish, or bird, or deer...they once contained and supported life; they still sustain the intricate beauty of the miniature, the Plan write small.

And best of all in learning all this from the stones in Hotei's garden, I rediscover the eyes of a child, delighting in tiny, beautiful miracles of design that God leaves in our path.

"Look!  Look at this!  And this, and this..."


Infinite, worlds within worlds.

It had not rained for two days...this was condensation between the cool earth and the thick, humid air.


Ornate and beautiful turtle bones...

I see a fossilized mermaid's tail, what do you perceive here? (And yes, it's also a turtle bone of some sort, old and weathered...)


The mint is lovely and lush...spearmint is my favorite, tasting of summer...

Peppermint is bold and spicy and a remedy for many ills...

I didn't see the tiny grasshopper till I looked at the photo full size...I've always been drawn to tiny things.

A gift from the garden...a volunteer squash.  We are letting nature surprise us, this year, cheek by jowl with our own planted vegetables.  So far, it's Nature 6, Garden not-so-much, which may speak to us about the concept of allowing.

May the Creator grant the eyes of a child to us all...

1 comment:

  1. I would have missed the grasshopper, too, Kate. But I enlarged the photo. So much to see-- It reminds me of Emily Dickinson, who had such eyes for seeing. And wonderful poetry for sharing what she saw.

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