Do you pause and look around when outside? I marvel at nature often even now when I am immobolized by the twist of my ankle. cracks of nature opening its sky every morning when I automatically lift pleated shades to invite the garden to connect with the inside. Some leaves are brown crackling with crunch, but Mother Nature is not yet ready to have this "season change with the scenery".
If you could, how would you describe earth's landscape at this moment? Would it be the sunshiny essence of summer with waves swiiftly moving in foaming waters?
Or perhaps you would prefer the crispy sound of brittle leaves as we stroll through the trail on a hazy day.
Some people sit and watch the boats spreading their sails on a windy day in springtime.
Mother Nature whimsically changes her scenery with flash surprises of different weather patterns. I am in awe of each season that brings more delight and hope for the future.
Have you noticed that I have used lines from Paul Simon's song, A Hazy Shade of Winter in 1966. The Bangles made the song popular in 1987 for a movie, Less Than Zero. Their lines below concentrate on hope. Many people see hope passing away but we need to believe and rebuild hope to find possibilities for the future.
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Join me at the Poetry Friday Roundup where Carol Labuzzetta is the host. She is chilling out spending time painting, reading, and crocheting. Today, she shares her Northern Lights poem and a gorgeous, serene photo. You can find her here.
Carol, your lines "Kaleidoscoptic coloring dresses/Landscapes in crimson and gold glory" were just what I needed to read today as that's a great description of what I see from the kitchen window: the colors of our trees and the neighbors' together. I'm going to try to get a photo of it. (Naturally, the background "music" is that of the neighborhood leaf blowers!)
ReplyDeleteAs someone who mourns the warm weather passing, your beautiful lines,
ReplyDelete"Not to be thwarted by grief,
Autumn shares her brilliance.
especially resonated!!!! Thank you!
As Mona said, those lines resonated with me, too!
ReplyDeleteAs far as noticing, this afternoon I realized that the small ridge across from the end of our street appears to be almost all rusty now, with the pre-dusk light and at this point so late in the game of leaf-change. But I love rusty things with patina, so it's still beautiful to me, if a little somber.
Have a lovely weekend, and speedy healing wishes for that ankle! Ouch.
Carol, I love all four seasons too. We had a dusting of snow the other day and then the last two days in the 50s. Crisp brown leaves crunch under my feet on the trail. The dog gobbles acorns fallen from the trees. A low set sun shines. Today, was perfect! Thanks for reminding me it can be that way!
ReplyDeleteSuch a thoughtful post, Carol. Hope your ankle heals quickly.
ReplyDeleteSorry about your twisted ankle, but thanks for the reminder to really LOOK when we're outside!
ReplyDeleteYou know what was great about 80s music? We could rewind the tape to just the right spot over and over and over as our maturing brains soaked up a lyric or a beat or what ever tickled our brains back then. I loved that. Sorry to hear about a twisted ankle :( Sounds like you need some TLC and time on the couch with a good book.
ReplyDeleteThis is Linda M. who is loving the change in light as the leaves leave space for sun.
DeleteAh, Carol ... "Leaning on hope's possibilities" — so poignant, needed, and true.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this reflective post and reminder to slow down. "Leaning on hope's possibilities" - yes! The irony of autumn's brilliance is that it marks the end of a cycle and the ushering in of nature's dormancy. But it's a truly beautiful season that gives us more than enough to tide us over.
ReplyDeleteI also love the line “leaning on hope’s possibilities”. It’s so easy to get discouraged and especially with an injury. I hope you are healing fast.
ReplyDeleteCarol, beautiful. With your twisted ankle and extra time at home, you have time to think about Richard. I am glad to see you are 'Not to be thwarted by grief,' "Thwarted" to a powerful word there. We grieve and remember, but we won't be thwarted. It's speaking to me today.
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