December 26, 2018. ‘Tis that time of year for tending to things put off … I don’t make New Year Resolutions, but I do focus on major to-dos, getting some of them off the list, off my conscience before the year ends. Like cutting back the yaupon holly – arched trunk extending over the sidewalk, into the street. Of course I took photos before we began cutting. The chore is done, off the list, but my conscience is unsettled. If only I could’ve moved the street instead …
December 22, 2018. Winter Solstice caught my attention this year. Long dark nights suit me just fine – not so for all of us. Hence a number of reflections in groups I mingle with. Yesterday @ 4:21 pm Solstice arrived, between two memorable experiences with our Tundra. First, getting stuck in the mud out at my daughter’s tiny house; then, the battery just quit flat at the car wash.
Standing around outside the Battery store, the moon (almost full) beamed … in a trickster joking kind of way … telling me it’s daylight hours that bring problems … night hours would bring relief!
Home finally, new battery dismissing angst, I took camera and tripod outside to see what I might capture. Luck was with me: Several clear shots and a big smile noticing how this incredibly bright moon was totally undoing “long dark night” … trickster indeed!
This morning I woke early and found the moon peeking at me through trees and clouds. Not 100% full until 11:50 today … but plenty full of light and mischief.
December 10, 2018. Today marks 2 weeks since a hurried scurry in my driveway left me flat against the concrete wondering briefly what all have I broken? And who saw me fall? Good news on all fronts – nothing broken and no distressed neighbors hovering. I got myself up slowly, marveling that everything still worked, and began puzzling why I tripped on something always right there, why on the day before I go to my aunt’s 94th birthday, why, why, why?
Richard Wehrman’s poem “Traveling” helps make sense of a seemingly senseless stumble. I’ve added bloom and swirl to a photo of my purple-puffed chin.
P.S. I am back to normal skin tones. More attentive in the driveway. Pondering still.
December 5, 2018. Once upon a time, when younger and more flexible, I would lay out a labyrinth on the mountain up above Cloudcroft NM each summer. In a national forest, one “leaves nothing and takes only pictures” – hence no permanent stone-lined labyrinth. My challenge included: repeatable installs, rain proof, cattle proof, materials must fit in the back of an already-crammed car.
Each summer, I would spend a spiritually connected day creating the labyrinth before the group arrived, and a frenzied couple of hours at close of the gathering – pulling up anchored straps and packing materials snugly back into their container.
Near the labyrinth center, I placed a bowl of polished gemstone fragments – and encouraged walkers to stir the collective energy as they passed.
This collage puts a smaller capture of the bowl near center over a larger capture of stones within the bowl
stepsandpauses 