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Anarya ~ Sunday

summer daisies

The fullness of summer is upon those of us who live in my gentle valley. Days are ripe with warm weather and lovely sunshine. From the hustle and bustle of spring, with all its intense planting (and of course, digging of big holes), we have shifted into the long, languid days of mid-summer. The changes always amaze me and I love to relish those times spent outside under brilliant blue skies, surrounded by mountains beginning to change their spring-green wardrobes into the heat induced tans and browns of mid-summer.

When I allow it, my mind drifts forward into the next season. Often times it is difficult to rein in my ever active mind and thoughts of the saturated colors of fall entice me with their finery. Springtime is often the time for beginnings and fall-time is the time for endings. For me winter is the time for rest and reflection. To be sure, "change" is an unstoppable phenomenon that happens without any help from those of us who are along for the ride.

With the early rising of the summer sun, I love to scoop up little Bonnie and carry her out onto the front porch. Together we watch the eastern sky change colors, transforming into a vivid pink and then fading like a spent rose. To the other side of the porch I walk, all the while listening to a comforting purr in my arms. The neighbors' sprinklers are on and that is something of great interest to my hot-house flower. She is most curious about the swishing noise as I watch with fascination moving diamonds on rainbow necklaces. Early morning is so quiet and comforting. Any noise is muffled, so on tippy toes I carry Miss Fluff back into the house. That adventure proves to be too much and off Bonnie goes to take a nap. Up the stairs I go wrapping my hands around a hot cup of coffee to spend the first hour of the day with the One I love the most.

May you experience the delight of early morning ~ Tasarwen

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II

Elenya ~ Saturday

rose garden

For as long as I can remember, I have had a love affair with roses. This I attribute to my late father, who tried many times to create rose gardens wherever we lived. He loved roses and their fragrances. As I sit and muse, letting my mind drift back through the mists of time, I can barely remember family members likening him to Ferdinand the Bull. This is the story of a little bull who would rather sit under his cork tree, smelling flowers, than fight in the bull ring. It brings a smile to my face just remembering the story.

As a result of my affection for roses has come a great desire to see the International Rose Test Gardens in Portland. So, for a birthday present to myself, the three of us (my hubby, Bonnie, and myself) traveled far away to the west coast of Oregon. What a treat it was to see so many beautiful roses, all in one place. The fragrance was magical and sent the senses into a heavenly realm. This was one of the “have to see” wonders of my life.

Walking along the great Columbia river brought a sense of awe into my sphere. Many places along the banks are populated by very large deciduous trees. Reaching toward the sky, they spread their immense canopies across my walking path, offering pleasant shade. As I ambled along a great noise reached toward me. In the breeze offered from the river, the leaves from these trees rustled with a great clamor. They surprised me with the loudness of their voices.

The flora surrounding my quaint abode deep in a mountain valley is primarily conifer in type. The wind makes a whistling sound as it weaves its way through their branches. The clamor of deciduous trees has surprised me with its heft of sound. The contrast is most enjoyable. But then again, I am easily amused.

On the marrow, we will head north to the enchanted land surrounding Seattle; the land of moss and fairies. Around every corner of the forested path upon which I walk, there produces such magic that I always expect the little folk to appear. I simply love the lushness of the place.

Then the grand tour will end and off we will go, back to our mountain valley. Change is always good, but I miss my place of peace and comfort. Home is always best.

May your nest nurture you; if not, make it so ~ Tasarwen

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I

Aldúya ~ Tuesday

Once again, I find myself standing in front of the mighty Columbia river. The awesomeness of it never ceases to amaze me. It is a powerful entity, in and of itself, always in motion. The power comes from its constant movement. From one side, where I am standing, onward to the other side, its dark waters rush by.

Many times, I simply seek peace in my life. Those quiet and still waters are ever appealing. But along with those still waters can come a type of stagnation. There can be a loss of energy. I have found that wallowing around in those still waters for a very long causes me to stop moving forward. Around and around I go, looking everywhere for peace. Ultimately, it is not to be found.

Of late many things of evil have come against me. A dear one close to my heart threatened me using very private and tender information as a weapon. My heart fluttered with all the fears developed in childhood. Along with that came painful events dug up from my past, all done behind my back and without any sensitivity or remembrance of the empty shell that it produced in my life. Hurtful things done in the darkness of secrecy rarely produce happiness. Along with those events came no remorse and I am left stunned and very sad.

Once again, I have learned a little more about forgiveness. It is the moving on, not the stagnation of treading water, all the while wondering what happened. Forgiveness is mighty and it is powerful. It moves forward, leaving the past behind. Furthermore, it is an act of the will and must be called on frequently. But ride the mighty waters, I must. For time is the balm that heals all wounds of the heart.

May your tears produce lovely rainbows in your life ~ Tasarwen

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