Thank you the all the photos and the writing that goes with it. Nature is profound and you are an artist and craftsman. It means so much to people who can’t get out in the wilderness but you bring your imagination that is a meditation, a comfort and is full of wisdom.
Just finished skiing across a frozen snow covered lake, stopped to gaze up at a Bald Eagle soaring above. Stopped in my tracks to watch my dog Ranger run like the wind in figure eights, gloriously in his happy place. Snowflakes flying from the north, coming straight at me. Skiing in a vast amount of accumulation. Oh the joy of it.
“And so I walked (skied),
the world transformed.
I had come hoping for this very thing…”
Across the U.S. I am walking (skiing) with you.
Thank you for taking us to the wild places. Always sharing.
Wonderful the pointillism of your snow photos. But what really knocks me out is how unchanged the Trumpeters are by the storm. Same postures, not huddling, not trying to get away (where would they go?), and it looks like no complaining.
Dear David, I encountered predators this weekend of both the microscopic and two legged kind, though neither were invited, and this after brutal murder in the chicken coop, I have been on feverish high alert, my eyes diverted from many of the joys I had planned. I was distraught...
In short, my weekend was rather hijacked and alas, I did fear, I would find no beauty or peace, until I come to your brave and beautiful stepping's and read "None of these creatures all around me were distraught, none wailing that the sky was falling, even as it was." and think to myself over steaming medications too steeped in whiskey - William has a generous hand - of course it isn't! And, of course it wasn't! Though I am left with little voice, a fact I believe he is quietly delighted by though he says not a word, I am recovering, the sky is up and the predators have departed.
Now, I may continue where I left off and send you my thanks for your being out in a snow storm, the like of which I waited for in vain on Saturday, and reminding me of its raw beauty, for sending me the sounds from webbed footed friends from your wild place and reminding me that the good in this world is contained within.
An icy fingered hug from the wilderness does much to heal... the description of it, when we are too ailed to step out, from a friend even more so!
It's a gift to 'hear' your voice from halfway across the world, Dear Susie. So glad you're on the mend. I'm so sorry to hear about the killer in your hen house. We've got quite a bit of that going on in broad daylight here, these days and I'm achey to think of the ugly threat we have become to our long, loyal neighbors and allies. I'm just mortified by what we've become...
“None of these creatures all around me were distraught,
none wailing that the sky was falling, even as it was.” the birds have it figured out don’t they. Thank you, David for another beautiful reflection on how nature can help us navigate our lives.
David! Emily Wilkins told me we were kindreds. And now I know why. I also am a friend of the elementals, stepping intentionally into storms and writing nature poems! 💜🌈🦋🕊️ Lovely to connect with you here. Many blessings of nature to you on this day!
So very beautiful. These lines, dissolving the worry in me, as if the snow fell for me too, and I, like the birds, did not wail… “distances dissolved, and details…
worries too.
There were no guarantees,
but there were wondrous possibilities“ I have been longing for the snow. I will take comfort in reading of it and seeing your photos, David, even if it does not fall here x
This is a gorgeous meditation on what really matters. Reading and listening both calmed and energized me. Lessons on how to be in these chaotic times are all around us. Thank you for showing me what wonders emerge from not resisting the storm. And knowing storms do pass.
David, another shining example of combining your words and your photographs into an indelible experience to be saved and savored. I don't know how you do it, but I am so grateful that you do, and that you share your visions to us others!
Sometimes the six-year-old in me wants to place a note like this, written in crayon right in the middle of the refrigerator door so that I can see it, again and again and chase away all those doubts and accusations that demand to have their say.
David each photo is more exquisite than the last: the muted colors of landscape, birds, snow, the gray sky, the shadowy trees, the frosted cattails. Once again, beyond lovely. Thank you.
Thank you the all the photos and the writing that goes with it. Nature is profound and you are an artist and craftsman. It means so much to people who can’t get out in the wilderness but you bring your imagination that is a meditation, a comfort and is full of wisdom.
Thank you, Terry for such kindness and encouragement.
What a beautiful interweaving of photographs and poetry! I felt transported.
I absolutely love this,David.
Just finished skiing across a frozen snow covered lake, stopped to gaze up at a Bald Eagle soaring above. Stopped in my tracks to watch my dog Ranger run like the wind in figure eights, gloriously in his happy place. Snowflakes flying from the north, coming straight at me. Skiing in a vast amount of accumulation. Oh the joy of it.
“And so I walked (skied),
the world transformed.
I had come hoping for this very thing…”
Across the U.S. I am walking (skiing) with you.
Thank you for taking us to the wild places. Always sharing.
Big sigh. Big contented smile.
Thank you, Lor.
So comforting. I feel it - the flurry of the storm and the calm, centered beings within it. Thank you, David.
Wonderful the pointillism of your snow photos. But what really knocks me out is how unchanged the Trumpeters are by the storm. Same postures, not huddling, not trying to get away (where would they go?), and it looks like no complaining.
Dear David, I encountered predators this weekend of both the microscopic and two legged kind, though neither were invited, and this after brutal murder in the chicken coop, I have been on feverish high alert, my eyes diverted from many of the joys I had planned. I was distraught...
In short, my weekend was rather hijacked and alas, I did fear, I would find no beauty or peace, until I come to your brave and beautiful stepping's and read "None of these creatures all around me were distraught, none wailing that the sky was falling, even as it was." and think to myself over steaming medications too steeped in whiskey - William has a generous hand - of course it isn't! And, of course it wasn't! Though I am left with little voice, a fact I believe he is quietly delighted by though he says not a word, I am recovering, the sky is up and the predators have departed.
Now, I may continue where I left off and send you my thanks for your being out in a snow storm, the like of which I waited for in vain on Saturday, and reminding me of its raw beauty, for sending me the sounds from webbed footed friends from your wild place and reminding me that the good in this world is contained within.
An icy fingered hug from the wilderness does much to heal... the description of it, when we are too ailed to step out, from a friend even more so!
May your week be blessed my friend - thank you.
It's a gift to 'hear' your voice from halfway across the world, Dear Susie. So glad you're on the mend. I'm so sorry to hear about the killer in your hen house. We've got quite a bit of that going on in broad daylight here, these days and I'm achey to think of the ugly threat we have become to our long, loyal neighbors and allies. I'm just mortified by what we've become...
“None of these creatures all around me were distraught,
none wailing that the sky was falling, even as it was.” the birds have it figured out don’t they. Thank you, David for another beautiful reflection on how nature can help us navigate our lives.
David! Emily Wilkins told me we were kindreds. And now I know why. I also am a friend of the elementals, stepping intentionally into storms and writing nature poems! 💜🌈🦋🕊️ Lovely to connect with you here. Many blessings of nature to you on this day!
Delighted to make your acquaintance, Carrie and thank you for the kind note.
Sir, friend, you amaze and inspire and transport me.
I cannot think of a sentence I'd rather re-read half a dozen times this morning, my friend.
Looking forward to squatting in a Maine bog with a butterfly net and you telling stories...
This pleasure will be all mine. (And I'm not done with this post of yours!)
So very beautiful. These lines, dissolving the worry in me, as if the snow fell for me too, and I, like the birds, did not wail… “distances dissolved, and details…
worries too.
There were no guarantees,
but there were wondrous possibilities“ I have been longing for the snow. I will take comfort in reading of it and seeing your photos, David, even if it does not fall here x
Again and again, dear Emily, you bring gifts, you are Gift.
How completely wonderful!
I'm so grateful this found you, greatful for glimpses of the parts that rang especially true for you. May your day surprise you again and again...
Thank you so very much for your kind words, David. I need the dissolving of worries today 💛✨
Thank you for sharing your walk with us. I too revel in unpopulated quiet
often evoked by inclement weather
and appreciate "the calm acceptance" of such by the beasts and birds about.
Nourishment
"I too revel in unpopulated quiet often evoked by inclement weather..."
Thank you for the compliment of your time to leave such a generous note, MoMo.
See you out there in the storm.
Quietly reassuring and reaffirming as ‘The Peace of Wild Things’. To be read again and again. You are thanked and blessed.
Thank you, Deborah.
This is a gorgeous meditation on what really matters. Reading and listening both calmed and energized me. Lessons on how to be in these chaotic times are all around us. Thank you for showing me what wonders emerge from not resisting the storm. And knowing storms do pass.
"Thank you for showing me what wonders emerge from not resisting the storm. And knowing storms do pass."
My current koan, Julie, seeker and fellow warrior.
I am indebted, once again to your kindness.
David, another shining example of combining your words and your photographs into an indelible experience to be saved and savored. I don't know how you do it, but I am so grateful that you do, and that you share your visions to us others!
Sometimes the six-year-old in me wants to place a note like this, written in crayon right in the middle of the refrigerator door so that I can see it, again and again and chase away all those doubts and accusations that demand to have their say.
Thank you for a bit of armor.
What an honor-thank you!
Why not? A wall of fame
Exquisite. A sense of silence filled me. A blanket of grace covered me. I even dropped a solo quiet tear; of wonder, of grief, of awe.
Thank you David
Your are most welcome, Alix. Your note is a gift.
David each photo is more exquisite than the last: the muted colors of landscape, birds, snow, the gray sky, the shadowy trees, the frosted cattails. Once again, beyond lovely. Thank you.
Music... music to this storyteller's ears, Kathy.
Thank you for making time to offer such kindness in a time when each generous act is worth twice its weight in gold. I'm so pleased this spoke to you.