The Tenderness of Eyes That Hear and Ears That See

Both my ears and my eyes prefer a quiet and tender melody.  Training the eyes to "hear" and the ears to "see" is one of the best gifts my camera and music have given to me.  These lyrics... 

Grandeur earth has quaked before
Moved by the sound of His voice
Seas that are shaken and stirred
Can be calmed and broken for my regard
So let it go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name. 
— It is well.

I remain grateful.

Always.

Life On A Small Town River

It's difficult to tell you in words what living on a small town river does for one's soul.  I'll think about it this weekend and come back and tell you when I figure out how.  For now, perhaps a picture is worth a thousand words... though I'll probably change my mind tomorrow.  I do love words, after all.  I'm gonna leave this gallery up for the next week or so on the blog so I can keep adding to it.  Eventually, I think I will give it, it's own space here.  And I think to myself... what a wonderful world. :) 

This Is My Home

It's been a great week of shooting for me.  Watched eagles and osprey pluck fish right out of the water.  Enjoyed following them in flight, and anticipating what their next moves might be.  I'm very seriously thinking about joining some friends on an African Safari in the fall of 2018.  

I am always careful to remember the beauty of the ordinary birds that surround me too though.  I never want to miss the extra-ordinary that is right under my nose by chasing bigger things.  I heard a wonderful quote today, and liked it so much, I decided to make it the focus of my home page.  It was written by a minister and evangelist in the Bahamas who has since passed on.  I think it's wonderful that his words have been immortalized and there is such truth in them for me.

I think the greatest gift God ever gave man is not the gift of sight, but the gift of vision. Sight is a function of the eyes, but vision is a function of the heart.
— Myles Munroe

Behold, All Things Have Become New

Isn't it beautiful, the way spring whispers in so gently after the bitter harsh attitude of winter? It's been a quiet season for me... one in which I have kept my own company most of the time, and watched hopefully every day, as my piece of earth took her sweet time waking up.  How she smiled at me when she did, though.  A slow, lazy, rested smile. Yesterday, I stood on this spot and took a deep breath, stretching and letting it out with a trembly sigh as I looked out over my own backyard.  The tears came... and I just let them.  Tears of renewal....they came for so many reasons, and washed over this heart like the rain falling softly outside my window right now.  I closed my eyes then, briefly, and remembered another spring, five years ago, when Jim and I used to sneak over here and stand on that shoreline and wish it was ours.  It was a tangled mess of overgrown weeds and untended gardens back then.  All anyone saw, was how much work it would be. But we didn't see it that way.  We saw it like this. Big, and bright, and peaceful... filled with the laughter of our boys and the antics of our little dog.  We always saw what it could be.  I love this place. It demands much of us, and we are coming to understand how deeply that should be appreciated.  I spent hours out there tending to it in the last two days and I realized how good it is for my body, mind and spirit.  My willow tree is nearly ready to burst out in leaves, leading the maple and the oaks by at least a week, I think.  We cut down the dead fall of this harsh winter and burned it beside the river.  As I tended the fire, I sat alone on my bench watching the geese fly low over the water and determined that I might do the same - burn the deadfall and watch as the ashes turn to embers and then cool and gently drift away on the wind.  Behold... old things are passed away.  Behold, all things have become new...