When the cold comes to New England it arrives in sheets of sleet and ice. In December, the wind wraps itself around bare trees and twists in between husbands and wives asleep in their beds. It shakes the shingles from the roofs and sifts through cracks in the plaster. The only green things left are the holly bushes and the old boxwood hedges in the village, and these are often painted white with snow. Chipmunks and weasels come to nest in basements and barns; owls find their way into attics. At night, the dark is blue and bluer still, as sapphire of night. ~ Alice Hoffman (Here on Earth)
What a wee little part of a person’s life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself. All day long, and every day, the mill of his brain is grinding, and his “thoughts,” not those other things, are his history. His acts and his words are merely the visible, thin crust of his world, with its scattered snow summits and its vacant wastes of water – and they are so trifling a part of his bulk! a mere skin enveloping it. The mass of him is hidden – it and its volcanic fires that toss and boil, and never rest, night, nor day. These are his life, and they are not written, and cannot be written. Every day would make a whole book of eighty thousand words – three hundred and sixty-five books a year. Biographies are but the clothes and buttons of the man – the biography of the man himself cannot be written. ~ Mark Twain (Studies in Biography)
A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up and curve and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow – Tho’ I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea’s eternal thrall. I would that I were there and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul, – Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the seagulls calling to the sea. ~ Sara Teasdale (Sea Longing)
“Enclosed Field with Rising Sun” by Vincent van Gogh
Over lowland, over snow and tundra span arches, raised by the rising sun. See: the light is winning! And the stream is streaming towards open minds and towards seeds dreaming of growth. ~ Einar Skjæraasen (The Nordic Light)
I meditate for the last time on this mountain that is bare, though others all around are white with snow. Like the bare peak of the koan, this one is not different from myself. I know this mountain because I am this mountain, I can feel it breathing at this moment, as its grass tops stray against the snows. If the snow leopard should leap from the rock above and manifest itself before me – S-A-A-O! – then in that moment of pure fright, out of my wits, I might truly perceive it, and be free. ~ Peter Matthiessen (The Snow Leopard)
When one soul meets another kindred soul, a great surge of energy rushes through the weaving of the universe as an important connection is made. In the unexplored regions of human consciousness, another light has come on, revealing shared territory. This is the work of dedicated souls on the spiritual path: their individual light illumines the universe for everyone, brings hope, and keeps open the pathway to understanding. This sacred trust is maintained by all who have consecrated their existence to spiritual wisdom; it is a kinship that runs like a golden chain from one age to another. That golden chain comes now into our hands, a sacred trust not only to our ancestors but to our descendants and every inhabitant of the universe. It is our turn to make the next link, trusting that others in turn will complete the circle until the whole cosmos is connected in one bond. ~ Caitlín Matthews (The Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning Year)
Two years ago on this day, Tim and I drove down to Avery Point to see the beauty of a recent snowfall by the water. I was trying to photograph the lighthouse, framed by a tree’s branches and the blanket of snow. After snapping the shot I looked on the view screen and gasped in surprise! While I had seen orbs in the photos of others before, and was curious about the phenomena, this was the first time orbs had appeared in one of my own photos! And there were so many of them!
As a person who has in the past often gotten myself into trouble by insisting on absolute answers to all questions, this marked one of the first times I was content to accept a gift of mystery and magic from the universe without demanding an explanation, satisfied to embrace not knowing. My intuition has some ideas but I’m not clinging to any particular theory, scientific or mystical.
If you have any orb pictures you’d like to share, please let me know. Perhaps I will post them here on my blog, or link to them on your blog. I have since had a few more pictures with orbs in them, though none as spectacular as this first one!
in the blue night frost haze, the sky glows with the moon pine tree tops bend snow-blue, fade into sky, frost, starlight. the creak of boots. rabbit tracks, deer tracks, what do we know.
~ Gary Snyder
(Pine Tree Tops)
Lieutenant River ~ 10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
It’s snowing like crazy outside, after four hours of rain. The changeover has occurred a lot sooner than predicted, so I’m happy we got up early and finished our errands before the October nor’easter made it here. I bought new slippers while we were out and my feet are delightfully warm and happy now. Time for a few more fairy tale birdhouses!
The Florence Griswold Museum sits on the banks of the Lieutenant River, pictured above. As you can see, the grass is still a summery green and the colors have not changed on all the trees yet. And it is now snowing – three seasons all in the same week. Janet has decided that the Lieutenant River will be a good place to have my first kayaking lesson in the spring.
#7. “The Sea King’s Palace” by Susan Zirlen & Mahady Makrianes (in honor of Pete, a prince among men), based on The Little Mermaid.
10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
#9. “Neverland Adventures” by Kristen Thornton, based on Peter Pan. London, where Peter, Wendy, Michael and John are searching for Peter’s shadow…
10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
Captain Hook has captured Tinkerbell…
10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
#10. “Up a Tree” by Sue Chism, based on Sinbad the Sailor. Giant birds wrecked Sinbad’s ship…
10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
and kidnapped him…
10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
#12. “The Troll Bridge Saga” by Sheila Wertheimer & The Museum’s Garden Gang, based on Three Billy Goats Gruff.
Of course this is my favorite fairy tale because it’s Norwegian…
10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
That was a freaky hungry troll “under” the bridge!
10.26.11 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
Tomorrow we’re having a Going Away/Halloween party for Nate & Shea and the gang. Cooking two vegetarian slow cooker dinners. Maybe there will be a goblin or two who aren’t camera-shy…
