May the light and warmth of Christmas shine on you tonight. Merry Christmas from us at the foot of the Mission Mountains.
Our son was married about 6 pm on Saturday to a wonderful young woman we adore. As mother of the groom I must say it was one of the most lovely weddings I’ve ever attended. Visually it was a stunning scene; they exchanged vows under a grove of Russian Olives on a warm July day with meadowlarks singing in the background. More pictures coming up but this one is hot off the press. This is the wedding party directly following the ceremony.
Congratulations to the family’s beautiful newlyweds! (Photo by our friend Rhonda Jensen).
A snapshot of our weekend taken at Carroll College in the Science building. Our youngest turns 19 today (bottom, center) and our oldest (top, right) is graduating in May and will also be married in July to this lovely young woman. Where does the time fly to? It is bewildering. Yet, we are always connected in our hearts and love is that timeless place we call home.
It’s been ages since I posted anything on Quiet Paths. I apologize. I’ve been trying to get my parents back on track these last many weeks. My Dad broke his hip before Christmas and walked around on it (painfully) for six weeks before we acquired a second opinion and the doc immediately took an X-ray. The first doctor did not bother with such a curious exercise. X-rays were out of his league, I guess. It was rough going for awhile when my Dad couldn’t drive, but he is better now and I have some more time.
All that aside, spring is nudging itself into our neck of the woods very slowly. We now have no snow on the ground. That’s a big change! This afternoon, on our way home from Missoula, Matthew and I stopped to see the Buddha near Arlee. It is still storming in the mountains and very gray but the colorful flags made a wonderful contrast to the landscape. It just made me happy to see this. All this situated out in the middle of a hay field. It’s actually quite wonderful in this setting. The flags seemed to be gathering all the color into that space, while all around us the wind blew.
There was no one around; just us and the Buddha statues. Peace, in a hay field. Namaste!
A pause between breaths
the pivot of decision
whispers between one touch to another
a sigh before release
hesitation at the handshake
a space among the sentences
this cold, red surge of darkness when anger swells
the open gate before it closes
the heart of injury
a moment reigns.
Join with us at One Single Impression. The prompt this week is Reign.
If you ever walk in the woods on a Sunday
you might catch a sigh from deep within
out of nowhere; neither troubled
Sundays are like that.
This day is a comma,
separated from all the others.
The sigh may startle you into reflection.
You might have lost any sense of direction this week
what am I doing? what was that all about?
be annoyed with a friend
or miss someone quite profoundly
be unsettled for no reason
because after all
you have it good, you have love,
you have everything.
If you walk where tiny streams run
and spring is waking up green all around you
in the soft undergrowth of fern and vine
then the forest light will cautiously seep into your heart
and you will remember why, where and how
the mask of the days falling away.
This photo taken last Sunday; the first Trillium. The prompt this week at One Single Impression is Mask. Thank you to all the poets.
Smooth stones lie on a foot path leading
broom thickets to each side
and pungent flowering Jasmine interlaces
among dark branches.
The spring soil is soft with rain.
This weary trail leads to a place of prayers
built long ago
where spirits chant or moan
near chipped rock walls.
Ghost footsteps mark the centuries gone
among the miniature wild flowers growing
here and there, barely perceptible.
If stones and flowers could speak.
Great carved doors
creak and groan, open facing seaward.
The people worshiped here
a blend of old land gods
and the cross.
Wooden rails, coming and going,
are worn smooth like glass
by fervent bows and supplication.
Outside the wind never stops –
the ancient messenger
breathes, whispers of so many voices
now carried out to sea.
The prompt this week at One Single Impression is “Aura”. This prompt was a tough one for me. Thanks for the challenge and to all the poets!