It is that time of year where the sun streams in from the East just as we rise, illuminating everything just so, that I must grab the camera before I put the kettle on and make breakfast.
The prunings from the Apricot and Peach are pushing blooms in our window sill
Everyone is sprouting up beautifully in the greenhouse.
Jaengy and I are spending a good portion of each morning now playing in the dirt and water & seeds. Feeling so lucky to have such a playroom for us both.
Struck so deeply by the light of morning, the calm, the beauty… I seek the words but only find pictures to share this glory….But then of course I turn to this and I simply must share.
Morning Poem
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
Sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches-
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting
everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead-
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging-
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth is exactly what it wanted-
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly, every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
-Mary Oliver
