They were silent when they reached the sea

with the birth of a new day…

some mornings ensure the quietude


when they take your breath away.

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When I gaze up towards the heavens…when I pay attention to the sky

I’m glad I’m not a meteorologist…and here’s the reason why:


On our walk this morning we were treated to this wonderful surprise

as the infant rays of the morning sun…created streaks across the sky…


There was the slightest arching in these streaks…and not to simplify

but dappled with a hint of color they looked like rainbows in the sky. 


And I thought what a beautiful sight for anyone up early 

and lucky enough to see…

but if I were a meteorologist…

I might view it differently.


For I would know this time of day is aptly called twilight

(when the dawn acquires the morning from ebbing of the night)


And I would know the way her light scatters…is the scientific reason why

even though the sun is still set…I can see her rays across the sky.


And I would know as I see these rays adding hints of color to a canvas painted blue

it is diffusion of the light that gives them their pinkish hue…


But…since I am not a meteorologist…

since I don’t have a meteorologist’s eye…

I am perfectly happy seeing morning rainbows 

stretching across the sky.



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When you take a walk in nature from the mountains to the sand

You’re impressed with how there is a balance…a rhythm to the land…


Every fish and bird and insect 

every flower…every tree

seems to know their place in nature

understands their destiny.


Understands how nature works

understands instinctively

what they are meant to do

what they are meant to be..


Yes, when you take a walk in nature

and witness her beautiful ballet

you realize only humans are out of balance…

only we have lost our way.



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When we planned the family kayak trip we hoped it was preordained

that we would be blessed with beautiful weather…that there would be no chance of rain.


As the day approached our excitement became a little more restrained

when we heard the weatherman report…there was a chance of rain.


But off we paddled anyway…deciding not to give in to our fear…

and the weather…it was beautiful…the river…cool and clear.


Halfway through our kayak trip, however, it did begin to rain

but something happened on that river…let me take a moment to explain.


The rain dropped softly from the sky…and onto us as well…

quietly and gently…in single drops it fell.


There was no thunder…no lightning with it…nothing to cause in us disdain…

Just a simple….serene…and mesmerizing…tender fall of rain.


All got quiet on the river…as mother’s, fathers, sons and daughters

were captivated by the sight and sounds of raindrops diving in the water.


I watched a young girl smile…as the rain fell softly on her head…

“I never thought that raindrops could be this beautiful!” she said.


Nature pleasantly surprised us today…on our little river jaunt…

by giving us a gift of something…we thought we did not want….


So next time we plan a kayak trip…you will not hear me complain


if, as the day of the trip approaches,…there is a chance that it will rain.

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The sun rising in a clear blue sky is a magnificent place to be

as we watch that heavenly ball of fire rise slowly out of the sea.


It is a work of art being painted right before your eyes…impossible to ignore…

and every day the painting is a little different than the day before.


But there are those special mornings when the sun throws off her restraints

and invites the clouds to join her in the mixing of the paints.


And when the sun begins to paint and the clouds begin to glow

we realize how lucky we are…so we sit back and enjoy the show.


It’s performance art that changes continuously right before our eyes

a swirling, shifting, colorful kaleidoscope in the sky.


And we watch the painting being created…with as much attention as we can

for we know the painting will be finished as quickly as it began.


And it is…for in an instant as we watch…to our mutual dismay

The sun rises higher in the sky and the colors fade away.


So we stop to thank the sun and the clouds with a touch of happiness and sorrow…


sad today’s painting has disappeared…but looking forward to tomorrow.

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When we arrive at the cabin each year the first thing we always do

(a tradition we’ve come to adore)

is head into town, buy a fern and hang it by our front door.


We enjoy the beauty it provides …everyday for us to see…

It’s a little nod to nature and her simplicity.


From it’s spot looking out over the forest the fern is happy we believe

catching just enough rain and sunlight while protected by the eave.


The other day we heard a noise and we were surprised to learn

a little bird was standing on the rail…eyeing our hanging fern…


We started noticing her a little more…and immediately we guessed

that little bird, inside that fern,…was building herself a nest.


And from the safety of our window…we’d watch her bring twigs held in her beak

and the nest she built within that fern…she’d completed in a week.


We’ve had many visitors to the cabin this summer…

who’ve stayed a little while then off they roam…

but only one of our visitors…has built herself a home…


We’re leaving in a few days.

We may not see her little family I fear…

but perhaps she’ll bring them back to visit


when we hang our fern next year.l

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It’s firefly season in the mountains…to which nothing can compare.

It’s the time when the stars dance close to the ground…and there’s magic in the air.


For you remember the first time you saw them as a child…

when your parents introduced you to fireflies

and how, even today, when you see them flashing…

you can’t believe your eyes.


And you harken back to when you were that child…

when you believed they were twinkling stars…

how you ran around smiling and laughing…

trying to catch them in your jar.


How you might have caught a few…but most of them got away

How you used your jar of fireflies as a lantern…to help you light your way…


How when you released your little rays of light…the moment the lid was unscrewed

they’d fly up into the night sky…twinkling their gratitude…


And how on days you couldn’t catch one firefly…no matter how well you planned

if you stood silent and wished hard enough…one would land upon your hand.


Yes it’s a magical season in the mountains…a time when you stop and stare

when you become a child again…as fireflies fill the air…


Reminding you as only nature can…how important is the night

How you need a little darkness in your life…if you ever to see the light.


Encouraging you to remember…playing in your yard…running near..and far…Reminding you somewhere in your heart…you’ve captured that feeling in a jar…


That perhaps today is the day…to give yourself a surprise…


To find that jar…to open it…and release your fireflies.

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When I see a field of wildflowers …

(the Earth smiling up at me)

I wonder if they aren’t subtly trying to show us…

the kind of people we should be.


A wildflower is free…it’s intention…truly grand:

To live in cooperation with all who view it.

To bring beauty to the land.


A wildflower learns quite early there is a struggle to be won…

That it must push itself through darkness…if it is ever to find the sun.


A wildflower opens its eyes to the sunshine…its heart lifted as gentle breezes blow…

It closes its eyes during the rain and the cold…knowing they are here to help it grow.


A wildflower understands what make the world beautiful…

what makes every day a beautiful day

is how every flower can be so different…

yet is beautiful in its own way.


A wildflower knows not hate, does not envy nor assume.

A wildflowers finds its joy in its ability to bloom.


A wildflower does not injure others, 

It does not cause another harm

It accepts the bee, the bird, the butterfly…

and us…with open arms.


Oh, if we could only be more like the wildflower

with but one intention…truly grand:

To live together with with each other…

to bring beauty to the land…


To understand how we are on this Earth…

only for a short while…

and to live so that when we die…


we will be remembered…with a smile.

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The sun has surrendered to the clouds…

only hints of the mountains remain

and I am sitting on the porch swing…

listening to an afternoon rain.


There is a rhythm to the sound…it rises and falls upon the breeze

and I marvel how some raindrops find the ground

while others linger in the trees.


I find myself drawn to my bed…as raindrops cascade from the sky

The soft music they’re composing…creates the perfect lullaby…


As I close my eyes and listen…to her music soft and deep

I find the melody so soothing and drift…slowly…off to sleep…


Until I hear a tapping…upon my window pane

and I smile when I realize…I’ve been awakened by the rain…


And I walk bak to the porch swing…as the rain beguiles and enthralls

and find strength among the raindrops…for they are not afraid to fall…


And I find happiness in the rain…where others may find gloom

for I understand the sky must weep…if the flowers are to bloom.


The rain has stopped as quickly as it began…

the mountains all return

as nature once again reminds me 

of all I have to learn…


Like how, in a gentle afternoon shower,

there is so much to be gained

if one stops to take a moment…


and listen to the rain.

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