Author: karynhenleyauthor

Yes, I Am but No, I’m Not

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Time tumbled through year-end,

and here I am in crisp January,

wrapped in a warm shawl,

sipping decaf coffee,

listening to rain tap against the window,

slowing down,

breathing deep,

beginning again,

hoping I’m wiser this year,

suspecting I’m not,

resolving to give myself grace to grow,

though my grandson would say

that I’m already grown.

And yes, I am.

But no, I’m not.

I know far less now

than when I was young.

I am full of questions

that will never be answered,

wishes

that will never come true,

uncertainties

that will never resolve.

But here I am in crisp January,

wrapped in a warm shawl,

sipping decaf coffee,

perfectly content just to be

and to let time tumble on.

–kh–

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature and shadow of the week:

 

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Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

On Icy Tiptoe

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Winter welcomes,

beckons,

invites us to

pause

on the brittle brink of the year,

witness

the shimmer of the season,

listen

for undertones of time passing

on icy tiptoe,

breathe

the crisp air.

Drink all of it.

Deeply.

Deeply grateful.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week – toys!

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Winter and the Wild

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On the first day of Winter,

as I pull into my driveway after dark,

my headlights startle two gray-brown rabbits

who had been sitting there in the cold—

chatting? Listening? Sniffing the air?

One bolts to the right,

the other to the left,

their white tails bobbing.

They live somewhere in my yard, I think,

perhaps snuggled under an arch of berried bushes

or tucked near the trunk of a pine,

or nestled under a thatch of twigs.

How do they survive the cold, I wonder.

They don’t dig dens,

or so I’ve read,

for they might get trapped by a fox or coyote.

They, too, roam our neighborhood—

the wild living among us.

Then again, as I watch the white-rumped rabbits

bounding into the darkness,

I realize that, actually,

it is we

who live

among them.

Happy Winter, wild ones.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

That House is Empty Now

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The house is empty,

my sister texted.

The house where we grew up,

where my mom decorated

for every holiday on the calendar,

where my dad, without warning,

would break out in a random song

from his vast repertoire—

Gilbert and Sullivan, Carmen, crooner tunes,

love songs for mom even after she died.

On his own last day, from their bed in that house,

he warbled a couple of bars

of “Molly Malone”

and I finished the line,

“alive alive-oh.”

That house is empty now.

Then again,

it’s not.

Every room holds memories.

Every door and window,

every wall,

the fireplace, the kitchen, the back porch.

The memories don’t die.

The beauty doesn’t die.

The grace and generosity don’t die.

In Daddy’s last days,

when someone would visit,

he would say, “We had a good run, didn’t we?”

Yes, Daddy, we did.

We had a good run in that house, and

oh God, how do I ever repay all the good?

The answer arrives

before I finish the question:

Embody that goodness.

Match it.

Become it.

Give it to your children and their children.

Share it with everyone you meet.

Breathe it out to the world.

For this love,

this joy,

this peace

is forever and for all.

This house will never be empty.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Flames of Spring Green

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This morning my hydrangea,

bedraggled and brown,

decided Spring has arrived.

Each spindly stem,

lined with loose withered leaves,

has become a spindly candle

topped with a tiny flame of

spring-green leaves.

I shake my head. It’s December.

Doesn’t Nature know better than to

leaf out

when Winter is just days away?

Nature whispers, Enjoy my candles,

my hope,

resilience,

renewal,

reawakening,

untethered to season.

Nature is budding

just for the joy of it.

Yesterday, someone asked me,

How old are you?

Seventy-one, I told him.

Really—he said—I wouldn’t have guessed.

Really.

Yes, really.

But I, like my hydrangea,

have decided that Spring has come.

–kh–

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Running Waves

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In this busy season and unbalanced world, a Celtic blessing of peace for you:

 

Deep peace of the running wave to you.

Deep peace of the flowing air to you.

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.

Deep peace of the shining stars to you.

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

What’s the Hurry?

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Today’s to-do list is long—

Clear the back deck of dried beans

and a drinking straw

left from yesterday when I taught

my grandson how to make

a pea shooter

Clean the upstairs bathroom

Vacuum

Bake bread

and whatever else comes up in between.

But my cat was on my lap,

curled and cozy

as if to say,

what’s the hurry,

this,

this,

this is what’s important.

And I noticed how brown strands of fur

mingled with gray,

how the white was growing whiter with age,

how her closed eyes smiled

and her breath gentled in and out.

I hushed the waiting tasks,

felt the warm sun on my shoulders,

listened to the quiet

for a moment

and a moment longer.

When I rose to tackle my to-do list,

my cat followed me upstairs

and sat in a splash of sun,

watching

as I calmly cleaned the bathroom

to a porcelain shine.

She was at peace.

And so was I.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week—Black-eyed Susans are still blooming:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Afraid I Might Fall

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Sometimes there are no words,

there’s only sitting in silence

and letting the tears come.

It feels massively important to lose

a father.

I’m left with roots running deep,

but the trellis is gone,

the one that held me up,

the one too often taken for granted.

There is now a breeze at my back

where the support used to be,

and I’m afraid I might fall,

but I am finding I’m strong enough

to stand

on my own,

and I realize that all these years

I have been strong.

And all these years,

he knew.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Where Does Our Courage Go?

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As a writer, I’m always jotting down ideas, notes, and quotes that inspire and encourage me. This week, I ran across this quote that I had copied on July 1, 2020 from a blog I follow, Writer Unboxed (highly recommended for you writers). While the words may be directed toward writers, they apply to everyone. I needed this reminder this week. Maybe you do too.

“If you feel helpless in our troubled times, remember this: times change. Our world does not stay the same. It never does. If powerlessness is our premise, then change is our story’s promise. That is the message spoken by our voices. That is our strength. That is where our courage goes.” – agent and writer Donald Maass

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature and Shadow of the week – peace lily:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

When Dawn Raised Her Window Shade

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This morning,

dawn quietly raised her window shade, releasing

a stream of gold that flowed

across reaching roofs and leaf-strewn lawns.

The brilliant stream wandered west,

a glowing, growing, widening river

warmly hugging the autumn garden.

Orange peppers blushed red,

purple pansies nodded,

black-eyed Susans brightened.

The river of sun dappled fallen pinecones,

speckled spent coneflowers,

splashed up tree trunks to spotlight the elms

and burnish yellowing poplar leaves.

I saw this golden gift of dawn

this morning

when she raised her window shade

and I raised mine.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.