Skip to main content

The Seed I Hold


Van Gogh’s Sunflowers in a Vase pose gallantly on a backdrop awash in the colors of the sea
Smattering, palette coatings of paints, mixed and smeared creating the portrait of my seed
For my hand holds a beginning…
Dried, weathered-grey and mottled, plucked from the sun star encompassing the potager’s border
Face upturned to capture the intense rays bursting to meet earth and soil
The rendering of my seed vibrantly expresses the emotions of life…
Bright and full of promise, as well as burnt and arid … wilting, waiting to be cast into the ground, yes
But…pushing against the earth heaped upon it, my seed labors to sprout and flourish
Emerging with a deeper understanding of life’s spectrum
Until then, the portrait remains as a reminder of the potential stored within us


Sunflowers are tall and strong; always facing the sun,
yet bowing their heads in humbleness

 ~ Missy

Comments

  1. beautiful..and we all have so much potential stored within us ....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The secret is to tap into that potential!

      Delete
  2. Thanks...you got to hear it twice!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the lights just clicked on

The lights just clicked on. The ones we hung outside last Friday when the day was bright and fair. Today it’s cloudy and cold. It’s dark earlier. So, the lights just clicked on.

It’s pretty. If I squint, the white fairy lights look like tiny gleaming stars. Bordering on gazing at an inky sky, dotted and specked with minute bursts of light.

Two Moravian stars with multi-faceted points hang. They sway with the breeze. Moving to the wind’s breathed music. They reflect in the open window; mirror images, star duets.

Santa arrives in a helicopter descent at the Old Mill. He sets up shop, elves and reindeer to join later. High fives, and shy giggles, the kids approach. Innocent, bright eyes wide open and hopeful.

It’s a magical and expectant season. It’s Advent.

Advent – the arrival of the awaited One – is more than my lights clicking on, the Moravian stars dancing and my grandkids’ wonder at the arrival of Santa. I love each of these experiences and the specialness of the memories.

A baby sh…

wild world: facing the wind

The page furled in the wind, several, actually as I struggled to control my notebook. The wind was crisp; it blew hair out of my face. A cerulean sky hung over head; the sun casting low.

I watered my potted plants, perhaps for the last time until spring. Snow’s in the 10 day forecast, which seems odd since only a few days ago it was 70 degrees.

Birds were chirping, squirrels doing their thing. They know the season is changing to the dormant time where food will be scarce and only the flimsy bare branches will shelter.

It’s November. We’re on the cusp of winter. Temperatures will be harsh. My thoughts turn to the outside folks; those who live in tents or boxes, occasionally scoring a room at the local shelter. It’s easier…when the weather is fair, but never easy.

Cat Stevens’ “Wild World” blares rather loudly from my Sonos. Two lines rattle for attention:

a lot of nice things turn bad out there you know I’ve seen a lot of what the world can do

Things are wild out there – the wind messi…

tradition or rhythm and christmas walks

How long does it take to make a tradition? Is there some sort of parameter, or is it something that just comes to be? By definition, a tradition is something passed down from generation to generation, but how are new ones established? I mean, they have to have a beginning.

That little diatribe to say, my cute man and I have a new Christmas morning rhythm, since tradition might be too strong of a word.



After coffee, breakfast and the Christmas story, we donned our hikers and headed out to walk the trail at Shevlin Park. Others had the same idea as we met families large and small; folks out for a run both with and without furry friends in tow. The mood was congenial with Holiday greetings. I made it my mission to say “Merry Christmas” to everyone we met.

The day was stellar, cold, crisp air, ice crystals sparkling in the late morning sunshine.



The beginning of the trail is enclosed in bare-branched trees that only a couple months ago were ensconced in iridescent golden coins that quaked …