I Wonder About Dogs

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

From windows beside my desk,
my second-story perch,
I watch the weather change,
see the seasons come and go.
Another new year is on the way,
and I wonder what lies ahead.
But today sparkles with sunlight
defining sharp angles of rooftops
into bright brown triangles,
shaded rhombus shapes,
shingles hatched with pine tree shadows.
One garage roof slopes at a perfect slant
to show a snippet of the street beyond,
a few feet at most,
just enough to watch a small dog trot past,
in and out of frame.
A few seconds later, her human enters the scene
strides across, soon out of sight.
Before long, a larger dog ambles by,
followed by another dog-lover.
Then another dog and his person stroll past.
It looks to be a delightful dog-walking day.
(But I have a cat, and an old one at that.
I will not be walking my cat
no matter how glorious the weather.)
I wonder if the dogs know where they’re going.
I wonder if their walkers know.
I’ve been told that, unlike cats,
who attach to place,
dogs attach to people.
Dogs may not know where they’re going,
but they know who they’re going with,
so I imagine they’re quite happy
to be out and about.
As I head toward a new year,
as much as I’d like to tunnel
under the covers like a cat,
I’m facing the future more like a dog.
I don’t know where I’m going,
but I do know who I’m going with,
and that’s what really matters.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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No Looking at the Calendar

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A magenta dianthus peeked out of its pot
on my back deck this week,
its petals curled, shivering in the chill
but bright and hopeful anyway.
“Have you not seen the calendar?” I ask.
“It’s mid-December.
Tomorrow will be below freezing.”
But my garden does not look at the calendar,
does not care that I’m thinking Winter.
No, my garden feels its way day by day
according to the whims of the weather,
for seasons can be fickle,
can change in a heartbeat,
serve up winter in spring
or spring in winter.
So gardens ride the swing of the seasons,
sense the sway from fair to frosty,
frying pan hot to freezer cold.
Each plant, on its own timetable,
blooms or goes to seed
by some inborn instinct.
Here, today, halfway through December,
a neighbor’s tree is sprouting spring green.
A gaggle of black-eyed Susans
glow yellow-gold in the shy sunshine.
Purple pansies huddle together,
friendly-faced nodding gossips.
And the leaves of the lenten roses
are stretching up and out
to let the world know
we’ve not been forgotten;
they will soon bloom.
Nature’s wisdom says
ride the swing of the seasons,
for December can still bloom,
and swaying between fair and frosty
is the way life works.
Nature’s wisdom says the calendar does not dictate
when to bloom and when to fade.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:
Shadow of the week:

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The Contours of the Seasons

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Sunlight gives a brief nod
to the north of the world
this time of year
as Day is quick to pull her cloak
back around her shoulders,
to doze in darkness again.
But from this Winter Solstice moment,
each new dawn will come earlier,
each sunset will take its leave later,
light will linger a while longer,
anticipating Sunlight’s reign.
All of nature—
cardinals, robins, juncos,
crickets and moths,
elms and hackberries,
even dirt and rocks—
follow the contours of the seasons,
the ebb and flow of light and dark,
the interplay of cold and warmth,
the whims of the wind,
the moods of the rain.
Darkness gives way to light,
cold eases into warmth,
wind calms,
rains soften.
Nature teaches the rhythms of life.
If I pause to feel her heartbeat,
listen to the whisper of her breath,
match my steps to the dance of Time,
then when sunlight gives a brief nod
at this dark time of year,
I smile and nod back.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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A Rather Large Keepsake

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

The little girl is made of iron.

Stiff-backed and still she stands

holding up a garden hose to

water whatever she can—

black-eyed Susans in the fall,

coreopsis in the summer,

larkspur and salvia in springtime,

seed pods and freeze-dried leaves in winter.

Unmoving, resolved, in wind and rain,

in snow and hail and sunshine,

she keeps her vigil.

My father had her made for my mother.

They raised four daughters, and

while none of us ever stood this still,

not even playing hide and seek,

maybe this girl was a reminder

of wiggly giggly girls grown

and going their own way.

Now that both my father and mother are gone,

this little iron girl belongs to me,

a rather large keepsake,

a reminder of girls growing up

and now growing old.

But even more,

she reminds me that

we have weathered the world’s wildness before,

and can again,

in every season,

persistently watering,

insistently cultivating

peace—

not without pain,

not without questions,

but also not without wonder,

not without heart.

She reminds me that

a stilled spirit,

a calm soul

is itself a keepsake

as we water

with kindness and hope

whatever we can.

–kh–

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – the little iron girl in last week’s snow:

Shadow of the week – from yesterday’s drawing class:

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Waking to Snow

The Dance of the Season

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

It’s the dance of the season,

the frolic of Fall.

Leaves

drift

down.

Pollen freckles the birdbath,

tickles my nose—

a snappy breeze,

an autumn sneeze.

Branches bow,

a leaf breaks loose.

Then another.

And another.

Lifted and swirled,

tossed and twirled,

they join the drift,

the sink and lift on

cool currents of air

that stir them around

and down

to the ground

to scuffle and settle.

All the while, the breeze whispers to leaves

still clinging to branches,

“Come and dance.

Come and dance.”

And they do,

and they will

until branches are bare

and a chill stirs the air.

Then Fall flicks her skirts

and flirts with Winter

who knows this dance well.

She’ll take the lead

flinging flakes of frost

in a waltz with the wind.

But that’s weeks away.

For today, it’s a breeze

and a sneeze

and a timid drift

of golden leaves.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week—moonrise:

Shadow of the Week:

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Nature’s Simple Wisdom

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Go forth under the open sky,

and listen to Nature’s teachings.

– William Cullen Bryant –

What is Nature teaching me? To listen, I think. The world will circle on with or without me. The evening star will rise. Clouds will sail the skies. Cicadas will buzz. Crickets will chirp. Trees will dance in the wind. Seasons will glide in and then pass on. Nature says to simply breathe deeply and listen. (From my new book Noticing, available now.)

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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In the Back Yard Under the Pines

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I rarely share my thoughts here, because so many have said them before, much more clearly and beautifully. But here’s one I put to paper yesterday.

I meant to put on sunscreen,

insect repellent,

maybe even a floppy hat—

Isn’t that how you dress

for a garden that needs weeding?

Instead, I went out to take a picture

of a rose,

the first of the season.

Then the mahonia beckoned,

its berries hanging in grape-like clusters,

blue, powdered with white,

another photo op

in the back yard under the pines

in the garden that needed weeding.

I’ll just test the weeds, I thought,

see if recent rains have softened the soil,

find out if they pull easily.

Up came a mat of chickweed,

a clump of wild violets,

tendrils of ivy,

all overstretching their bounds.

And so it went,

tugging and tossing,

freeing the spent daffodils

from one clump of weeds,

then another

and another.

There on my knees,

fingers digging through pine straw,

I breathe the rich smell of dirt,

the fresh scent of leaves.

A surprised millipede skitters past,

disturbed earthworms tunnel deeper.

Chickadees sing their name,

Wrens chirr,

a woodpecker tap-tap-taps overhead.

Wind brushes the pines and elms,

ebbing and flowing like the ocean,

a sea of air

swishing,

sighing,

whispering peace—

peace with the rhythms of nature,

peace with the seasons of life and death

in the garden now in late spring bloom

after dying back for winter.

Whispering, too, of my own seasons,

of my own dying to come

some day.

Even though I hear the whisper,

even though I might prepare,

that day will surprise me.

Oh—

I meant to put on sunscreen,

insect repellent,

a floppy hat—

Isn’t that how you dress for a garden?

–KH

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Endless Song

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

As summer heads toward autumn, there’s a peaceful wonder in watching the season change.

“Nature is ever at work building and pulling down,

creating and destroying,

keeping everything whirling and flowing,

allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion,

chasing everything in endless song

out of one beautiful form into another.”

– John Muir –

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.

For my longer posts on the art of noticing, link here.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

seasons

I Wonder About Dogs

No Looking at the Calendar

The Contours of the Seasons

A Rather Large Keepsake

The Dance of the Season

Nature’s Simple Wisdom

In the Back Yard Under the Pines

Endless Song