Anarya ~ Sunday

With the most graceful of transitions, the time of storms and gray skies has transformed into crisp days embraced by clear blue skies and a spectacular lushness of color. Summer in all its brief glory is making itself known in my realm. To be able to walk outside in shorts and sandals is a treat beyond comparison. Furthermore, to be outside under a beautiful sapphire-colored sky, wrapped in warmth feels wonderful. My poor pale skin is finally feeling fresh air and the kiss of the sun. However, I have always been one to wear plenty of sun screen. A childhood roasting at the beach, has produced various skin problems. What is done in our youth, many times comes back to haunt us in later years. I have often pondered about wishing for the wisdom I have now, when I was a young pup. Quickly, I delete those thoughts. In my youth, it was much more fun to take the wild ride of ignorance and truly believe that nothing in this world would ever touch me.

During this present, blissful time, I am taking long walks, riding around on my bike, and enjoying being outside. The sense of freedom that accompanies these long, warm days of summer is exhilarating. Living in the moment and enjoying these special days of spectacular lushness seems to be filling every day with happiness and I am most thankful for this time of reprieve. Once again, I am reminded to simply enjoy the moment and not think about the cold months ahead. For they are coming, without a doubt. But I remind myself to wallow in the day that God has given to me and be grateful.

I am always so amazed how one moment of willfully turning my mind to a grateful state, changes the complexion of the entire day. It seems to be a miracle. The Scriptures mention “being of sound mind” and “resting ones mind on these (good) things”. Simply said, it works!

May you enjoy and be grateful, in all things ~ Tasarwen

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Eärenya ~ Thursday

wild flowers

During my daily walk-abouts, I am noticing many things. Foremost, it is beyond glorious to be able to be outside, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. Our long winter months keep me indoors more than I care for and it is a tonic to be able to see the sky, trees dressed in green, and all the colors of flora around me.

Wild flowers are making themselves known throughout my realm. It always amazes me that they are so very delicate and yet they endure our harsh winters, year after year. Without a missed step, they come back and present themselves to my thirsty, color starved eyes. Often, I muse at how something so fragile is so tough and resilient. To my knowledge, there are no big and blousy blooms who show themselves year after year. The “loud-mouths” are never there. Instead, it is those small, delicate and lovely flowers that line my forest path and are strewn across the mountain meadows. Not only that, but as one travels up a mountain into the thinnest of air and the most draconian of circumstances, those very same meadow-land flowers become even smaller. They are miniature representations of their former selves and extraordinarily perfect.

As a child, I was a gentle sort. I was raised in the noisy and boisterous world of brothers and other males. Quietly and hoping not to “make waves”, I grew up almost entirely on my own. Though my parents truly did the best job they could, I lived in a very critical world. Keeping silent and keeping to myself proved to be the safest bet. In my early 20s, I asked Jesus to become Lord of my life. I also remember well, praying and asking the Lord to instill in me a quiet and gentle spirit. I thought surely that would be easy for me. Little did I know the trials and hardships it would take to polish my heart and give me even a hint of what true goodness is. It has taken extraordinary pain and discipline to even begin to instill that very special gentle spirit that God would have for me. Of course, in all my youthful wisdom, I forgot to note that with this would come a sensitivity for others along with a very thin skin. Oh, how I have wished for a thick skin at times. But how would I know and understand the trials and tribulations of others if I were not sensitive to their troubles?

When I think about those delicate and beautiful flowers, I am reminded of my own life. By some miracle that only God knows, I am blown down and trampled time and time again. But after each trauma, God reaches out with His hand and lifts me back up to my feet and gently, oh so gently, gives me a little shove. And here I am, small and seemingly insignificant, but standing none the less. Perhaps, it truly is the smallest of us who can make some sort of difference by reaching out with a helping hand to others, all the while empathizing with their plight.

May you see your greatness in your smallness ~ Tasarwen

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Valanya ~ Friday

June is the month of floral bliss. At this very moment, lilacs are lavish with colors ranging from the purest white to rich purple. Tulips of every form and color have been flung in every direction, covering lawns and gardens. Apple trees are frothy with white and every hue of green has enriched our landscape. Pollen is blowing in the wind and my allergies have made themselves known. Is the rain of pollen that comes with this floral delight worth all the sneezing and puffy eyes? Oh yes! The lovely month of Nárië (Na-rh-eh) is upon us and I am relishing in its abundance (pollen included).

Even fauna is fresh and new with this season of loveliness. As I walked along my forested path early this morning, sunbeams streamed down, illustrating and illuminating various shapes of leaves. A break in the woods presented a lowland pond and upon it gracefully swam Ms. Mallard and her eleven chicks. I paused and enjoyed her slow movement across the pond along with her quick swimming babies. The newness and freshness of this time of the year is all around me, daily.

Just a few days past, while on my walk-about, I noticed a magpie swooping down upon Ms. Mallard. Much squawking and racket filled the air. Unfortunately, they were along-side a busy road and traffic was streaming past without hesitation. I stopped and looked. There in the gutter were the group of baby ducklings, trying to scramble up and over the curb. One had actually fallen over onto his back. The magpie was hanging out, hoping for an easy meal and Ms. Mallard was attacking him with great vigor. Without hesitation, I crossed the busy road, holding up my hand to stop traffic. I whispered sweet words to Ms. Mallard and I slowly scooped up the babies, one by one, and placed them onto the grass. There is nothing in the world that compares to the feel of little, tiny duckling feet in the palm of your hand. Light as a feather, they were. Ms. Mallard happily walked off with all of her babies trailing out behind her and I smiled.

Now, I dearly love magpies. They truly are the best dressed birds in the neighborhood. Every feather is always in place, defining the black and white areas with great distinction. They appear as if they are going to a formal affair, donning “black tie” apparel. One never knows if addressing a male or a female and quite frankly, I never bothered to ask. Each and every one of them is impressive. However, I am most glad that I happened along that day and rescued Ms. Mallard and her family.

There is such freedom of movement this time of the year. I feel great abandonment in walking everywhere, riding my bike to all corners of my little town, and jumping into my trusty Subaru and driving to every part of my realm. When the time of great snows returns, I am always slightly apprehensive about traveling. One never knows what to expect out there on the open road. So this time of the year I “make hay” and move about without much thought.

In my country, we are all blessed beyond measure and take it for granted much of the time. We are free to go hither and yon, without so much as a thought. There are other countries much like ours where folk are also blessed in much the same way. However, my thoughts move to those countries where freedom is not a well known word. Sadly, I reflect on this and am burdened by the realization.

May none of us forget to be thankful for freedom....in everything ~ Tasarwen

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