Relief (SWF)

A strong breeze moves this dramatic sky, changing moment by moment—
pink granite clouds curling around one another,
pushing...piling up...and passing on.
Perhaps to end in rain, in the night--
the kind that falls softly and brings with it, a cool morning.



I walk here to clean my spirit—
throw the windows open wide on the cares of the day,
let the breezes lift them from me,
draw in the fresh, new air.

soybeans sprouting

And discover this new spring green,
the first emergent growth,
the promise of this field, for this season--
to grow, each day, a little stronger.

First Green

corn stalks in field after harvest

The field behind our house is farmed in rotations of corn and soybeans. Each spring, I watch and wait to see, for this year, which it will be.
The low, rolling fields of soy, or the narrow path between fields of corn, so different, both lovely.
One day, though, neither, as I watch them one by one, stand empty--then sprout a row of houses.

See more Skywatch here.

The changing landscape

The field behind our woods has been plowed and planted. And the first green to appear reveals that, this year, it is to be corn.
I've never given it a second thought. The choice of crops. The alternating cycle between corn and soybeans has, in the past, seemed simple.
And although I prefer to walk this lane between fields of soy, where afternoon breezes make the golden plants sway in autumn, the tall stalks of corn will soon transform this path into a tunnel of sorts.
A changed place.

Filling this brown space with a green leafy wall, hiding our woods.
And the geese and deer that walk here.

I wonder if, this year, it is something other than "simple."
And if this field now grows, not fodder, but fuel.
Ethanol.

A wind turbine spins gloriously as the clouds pass.
The landscape is changing.

Thanks to Wigger's World for hosting Skywatch Friday each week at his site!

Sunrise

The field has been planted.
A chilly night's passing has left a veil of fog where yesterday's sun warmed the earth, dark and rich.
An apricot sky--warmly tinted, yet softly stilled behind soft fuzz.

On our front bank, the poppies, heads heavy with hidden color, greet this morning.

Thanks to Wigger's World for hosting Skywatch Friday each week at his site!

Have you seen...

The field has covered itself in little wild onions.
From edge to edge, the dirt exposed after last fall's soybean harvest barely peeks through, now--the fresh bluish-green haze, like a five-o'clock shadow, announcing spring--stretching across these 40 acres.
Green on green, the curly-tops catch the afternoon sun on their winding, playful stems.
Waiting to release that unmistakable aroma,
when the plow returns to recapture the land.

Until then, they run free.



"Have you seen...." is an effort to discover the unusual beauty in things not usually appreciated for their beauty.

Thanks to Wigger's World for hosting Skywatch Friday each week at his site!
And to Anna Carson for hosting Project Green.

The road we're on

This road I walk, in all seasons, in all weather. I know it will always provide just what I need.

It's the road I've walked with my husband, an after dinner stroll, sharing the events of our days.
It's the road I've walked with my girls, as they grew, hoping to always be the one they'd bring their troubles to.
It's the road I've walked with my dog, to stretch our legs and breathe deeply--2 creatures caged for most of the day.

But when I walk alone, the road is my wide open space. Planted in corn or soybeans by the neighboring farm each spring--in winter, its emptiness allows me freedom from distractions. Freedom to reflect, or wonder, or dream.

If I'm lucky, not a car will pass, as I wander along.
Thinking of this year's accomplishments and hopes for the next.
And marveling that, on the last day of December, when I should be inside, preparing for the evening's festivities, the frosty weeds at the road's edge have me captivated--again.



In this new year, may you see each day as a journey, with hidden respites along the road, beauty abounding to feed your soul.
And may you be rewarded for discovering that it lies, waiting for you, always there.

Thin green line

Sunshine, cool breezes and just a hint of dew.


How quickly fall has settled in with its blue skies and crisp, fresh air. Last week's soybeans are now gone--dusty crumbles are all that remain of the golden field.



The corn bordering the lane has been harvested, too. The path I walk has suddenly become wide, open space.
Only a thin band of green borders the lane--a strip of life between these tired, now resting fields.
But life abounds there, in the green.
A caterpillar enjoys a blade of grass, warmed from last night's chill by the morning sun,


Lobelia struggles against the sturdy grasses of the ditch,


bright, fresh faces are kissed with dew,


and purple clusters gently sway.


Now is their time to shine.
This life in the thin, green line.

The close-ups of these flowers are beautiful.
The morning light could not have been a more perfect complement.

Have you seen...

The soybean field I walk past is ready to be harvested--stalks dry and withered. Crisp, fuzzy pods holding golden treasures within.
This week is its last.
From the roadside it appears an amber sea. The acres of rows are straight, the tops level. The few low areas that had held water this spring grew a shallower crop-- now the dips and swells of this ocean. A vast expanse reaching to the edge of our oak woods.
Only if you stop and look closely, do you see the glories of the morning.











"Have you seen...." is an effort to discover the unusual beauty in things not usually appreciated for their beauty.