Aldúya ~ Tuesday

Just a short while ago, I saved a robin.

Early morning usually finds me playing my concert grand harp, which happily resides in our small living room. Facing the front window, often I am distracted by a beautiful view of large mountains. It is a peaceful time and one that I enjoy very much. However, the study of music can be hard work. It does drain me, mentally. Of late, I am making a big effort to memorize more pieces. There is a lovely selection by Vivaldi called Winter, on which I have been working. At first the challenge was to memorize the entire movement. Next, I worked with the companionship of my metronome. Although I am very familiar with the different rhythms of this piece, the metronome brings more distraction and forces a steady pace. In fact, I use a metronome most days. That is unless it is attacked by little Bonnie, who by the way, is not so little any more. The ticktock of the metronome is the “call of the wild” for Bonnie. Slowly, she sneaks up on it, wiggles her derriere, and attacks with the speed of a cobra. The poor metronome does not have a chance. Quickly, I have to reach out and snatch it out from under the paws of this miniature lion.

On one of these early morning practice sessions as I was deep into my musical thoughts, a loud thud jerked me out of my reverie. Out of the corner of my eye, a small shadow went flying by. A bird had tried to fly through the front window. Quickly, I dropped everything I was doing and ran out onto the front porch. There, lying in a pile of soft breast feathers was a robin. He or she was stunned and did not move. I though, oh dear, the impact killed him. Carefully and slowly, I leaned down and scooped him up in my hand. He was still breathing but remained very still with his mouth open. Slowly, I covered him with my other hand and just stood there. He was very warm and seemed heavy for just a little bird.

I struck me that while all the problems of this world were going on, some important and some not so important, there I was standing still in my small yard with a robin cupped in my hands. That tender and delicate life was resting quietly within the safety of my own two hands. It was a humble thought and one I pondered later. Sharing the warmth of my hands with such a small life reminded me how many times God has held on to me and I did not even realize it at the time.

I carried my robin into the garage and placed him on a soft rag. He stayed upright but did not stand. Just a short while later, I checked on him and he was standing. He actually allowed me to softly stroke his back. His eyes looked bright and clear, but he seemed happy to stand there on the rag, resting for a while. After a time, my hubby opened the garage door and the robin turned toward the light and fresh air. Slowly he lifted his wings and flew away. He landed on a rooftop next to our cottage and appeared to be recovered.

Though at various times in my life, I have been stunned by unpleasant circumstances and completely numb to anything going on around me, the Creator of the Universe held me in His more than capable hands. At the time, I was completely unaware of His presence, but He was there, none the less. I recovered to fly again.

May you know the security of God’s hands ~ Tasarwen

end of page
back home


Anarya ~ Sunday


The lovely month of May has arrived. ‘Tis a month of newness of life and vivid splashes of color. Along with tulips of every color there are vast fields of dandelions. Their blankets of rich yellow stretch on forever and create contrast with green grass and blue skies. Dandelions are interesting creatures. They have many medicinal properties and are quite pretty. However, just as many things in our lives, they are always in the wrong place to be appreciated. Up they come, profusely, in our lawns and flower beds. With a vengeance, we attack them and try to exterminate them. They simply do not belong in our manicured lawns and in our orderly lives. However, in the vast fields of hay that surround my little cottage, they produce such vivid color that it reminds me of a painting by Paul Cezanne. Not only are they beautiful but the leaves are a precious source of vitamin C. The flowers can be used to make a delicious wine. But, if just one makes its presence known in a yard, the neighbors begin to howl and complain. For they are quite prolific and with only one plant, many more will pop up in a very short time. I smile and shake my head, for I am guilty and constantly fight against them, just like everyone else up and down my street. So goes the taming (and manicuring) of our world.

Of late, I simply have not had the time to write in my journal. Not that I am running down dandelions. I have been digging in the dirt, planting this and that, bringing the bright color and texture of various plants into my small yard. A project of large scope and back-breaking work is just before me. I am in the process of creating my long awaited rose garden. At the time of this writing, I have a dozen baby English roses residing in my garage. They are waiting to be placed in their permanent residence on the east side of our cottage. However, the soil is like cement. I have to dig a dozen BIG holes. Rather than jumping up and down on a shovel in order to dig one hole that takes an hour, I have asked a rather large guy to help. Because of his size, I doubt he will take an hour per hole. Then each hole will be filled with rich compost mixed with a small amount of top soil. After each rose is carefully planted in their new homes, the entire bed will be topped with some sort of mulch. Of course, all of this requires hauling large bags around and getting very dirty. But, there is something very satisfying about immersing ones self in creating a beautiful environment. Just the thought of bringing large bouquets of fragrant roses into our abode, makes the effort worthwhile.

To some extent, I believe that a sweeping vista of rose bushes in a large field of hay would not be optimal. Roses, in their own domesticated bed, next to a cottage brings delight. They belong there. But seeing large fields of dandelions in the wild, is inspiring. Seeing them in the neighbor’s yard produces stress, to say the least. What is beautiful in one place is not beautiful in another. I muse over these things with great humor.

May you show your loveliness in any place ~ Tasarwen

end of page