A Whisper of Spring

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

March, so the saying goes,

comes in like a lion,

out like a lamb.

But it was February that left

roaring,

all in a rush of wind and rain

leaving deck chairs toppled,

branches snapped,

daffodils bowed,

twigs scattered across the lawn.

February was in a hurry

to leave,

and lamb-like,

March has tiptoed in

with silver-gray clouds,

a shy sun

and a spritz of bright yellow forsythia.

Winter has thinned,

and a full-bodied Spring is

peeping in,

seeping in,

reaching out

to hug the world with warmth.

Winter will have a few last words,

but Spring is whispering her arrival,

and I’m listening,

watching,

catching her scent,

feeling her breezy touch.

Hello, March.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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The In-Between Times

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I woke to birdsong this morning,

a good-morning melody

welcoming the silver-gray light

weaving through the clouds and soft rain

of these in-between days

that bridge winter and spring

and seem so random—

today frosty, possible snow,

tomorrow warm, a hug of sunshine.

New blooms have appeared

on the neighbor’s hellebore,

Lenten roses right on time.

Purple crocuses have smiled open

under the magnolia,

a bit of yellow peeks from a drift of daffodils

under the hackberry,

all cheering me

in these between times.

And truly, we are always in between—

between starting and finishing,

between losing and finding,

between our last step and our next step.

Isn’t it the same with people as with nature?

There are those who bloom

in the in-between times,

those who are our crocuses,

our daffodils,

our Lenten roses,

whose mere presence is a sign of hope,

good cheer,

encouragement

in between the loss of what was

and the uncertainty of what will be,

those who ground us in the present moment

of the in-between.

Thank God for our crocuses,

our daffodils,

our Lenten roses.

Thank God for our in-between friends.

–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

On Icy Tiptoe

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

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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Winter and the Wild

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

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:

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Flames of Spring Green

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

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:

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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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Caught by Surprise

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

On the way to the kitchen,

two steps past the dining room window,

I pause.

I had barely glanced outside in passing,

having already witnessed the scene of early spring—

hackberries still bare-branched from winter,

the dogwood’s gray limbs holding up leaf buds

like tiny green candle flames,

the rust colored, dried blooms of a rhododendron

that flowered too early and froze back into fall colors.

It was a flash of pink that caught me by surprise.

Pink?

I step back to the window

for a second look.

A newly planted azalea peers back at me,

low and close to the mulched garden

in my neighbor’s yard.

And very pink.

I wasn’t expecting pink.

Winter was so raw,

so kill-the-plants frigid

that I’ve been intent on discovering what survived.

Bit by bit, life was revealing itself—

Lenten roses in holy white,

daffodils and forsythia in sun-kissed yellow,

violets gowned in deep, regal purple,

Nature’s parade of spring fashion.

Yes, these I knew.

These, I had seen.

But now this fancy, frilly pink azalea

waves in the wind and fairly shouts,

“Look at me!”

And, of course, I do,

marveling at the appearance of this cheeky pink plant

flaunting herself,

loud and bright,

proud in my neighbor’s garden,

and worth a second look.

So of course, I do,

and I will,

again and again

until the whole neighborhood

is alive with spring.

– 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.

The Sun Yawned

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

It’s the first day of Spring.

With a slow stretch,

the sun yawns into the deep, still sea of sky,

softens the clear, cloudless blue,

reddens the top branches of the elms,

slowly slides its smiling light down the trunks.

I watch from my upstairs window.

Oh, Spring, at times

I thought you had forgotten us.

But your name is on the calendar square.

I’ve underlined it.

And here you are!

Warmth is drifting through the air, I think,

anticipating a day without a coat,

maybe even without a sweater.

I’m thinking bluebirds,

white blossoms on the dogwood,

seeds to be planted,

spring-fresh air to breathe.

Then I notice the roof of the first floor

just beneath my window.

The shingles glitter with frost.

I flick my phone to the weather.

Twenty-six degrees.

Twenty-six!

Oh, Winter,

you may be gone,

but in your wake, you’ve left a chill.

Of course you have,

for it’s only

the first day of Spring.

– 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.

Winter Evenings

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

On winter evenings, I sit at a window

and watch the twilight sky

as the sun slips away,

leaving in its wake

a gift of shifting color.

Tonight, the sky is soft,

a silver blue tinted with yellow,

and patches of pink.

Bare branches of backyard trees

curve and cross in silhouette,

upstretched in silent worship,

vespers on a silver evening.

Between and beyond

the filigree of twigs and branches,

a light appears,

bright white,

barely moving.

A distant plane.

Slowly,

smoothly,

quietly

it traces a line

through the delicate maze,

then glides away

as the silver blue sky,

slowly,

smoothly,

quietly

darkens

into a rich hush,

the velvet blue,

of a winter night.

– 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.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

winter

A Whisper of Spring

A Rather Large Keepsake

On Icy Tiptoe

Winter and the Wild

Flames of Spring Green

The Dance of the Season

Caught by Surprise

The Sun Yawned

Winter Evenings