Time in a Bottle

The last two weeks I've been having these flashbacks to Christmas when I was a boy. Yah, you always have that happen around this time of year, but for some reason the memories seem real vivid this year. What's up with that? I think it's a combination of the smell of Christmas trees, chocolate, and mixed nuts that activate my brain's memory banks.
I remember the pressure of the church Christmas program. I was good at the memorization of my lines, but the fear of performing in front of crowds was a killer. I remember at least one program I missed because I "lost my lunch" on the way out the door — heading to church.
I remember anticipating the opening of presents. My parents were always very generous people so there were many packages with my name on them and I spent a lot of time trying to guess the contents. And mom was a great baker — tons of good eats. Mom was also very creative so she checked out all the do-it-yourself Christmas decorations in Better Homes and Gardens and picked out a few for us to try. Being the creative sort, I could really get into that.
Then there was the neighborhood sledding hill. I great place except for one little issue — the telephone pole at the bottom on the left. Stay on course and it was no problem, but should one of your co-sled-riders drag their feet on the wrong side — well, you were destined to add to the red snow around the pole. Years later, at a reception after the presentation of a multi-media piece I had created, a kind older lady congratulated me and we started talking. She asked me what part of town I grew up in. It wasn't long and I discovered that I was talking to the lady who owned the the neighborhood hill property. She told me how the insurance companies had told her to keep the kids off the hill — but she didn't have the heart to do it. It was great to have the opportunity to thank her for the years of sliding fun.
Christmas memories are great — most of the time. I was very privileged, but for some, I'm sure, there is pain in Christmas memories. As our pastor said this morning — Christmas is really not about the past but about anticipation — and not just about anticipation of Jesus's first entrance into the world but that there will be a second entrance, and that entrance will usher in an eternity of glory and joy — and absolutely no pain — simply believe it and it will be yours.

Blessings

Bob

After the Leaves Leave

This part of the year is often overlooked in the succession of seasons — after the colors and before the snow. For me, it’s an exciting time -- simply because it is often overlooked. The beauty is there -- it’s just in places that we don’t often look. Since the leaves are gone the sun can filter down to the forest floor. Since we’re getting close to the shortest day of the year, the sun is lower in the sky and the shadows are long. The leaves have made a wonderful carpet on the floor. The sky can be very dramatic as the cold fronts push through. Most times when I head to the beach there is no one else around — I enjoy the solitude. The beach is also devoid of footprints and evidence of other human activity — that’s one thing about the beach — the wind and waves erase the slate very quickly. On top of everything, my schedule seems to loosen up a bit so the opportunity to get out and collect a few images is more frequent.Yes, there are probably a few more grey days than other times of the year --but “soft light” is an advantage in some cases.
So there’s a lot to love about late fall. Greet each other with a warm hug to help take away the chill and let your smiles be the sunshine.

The First Warm Day

We all wait for it. A 70 degree day in April. Well, if you live north of Latitude 45° you wait for it — anxiously. And the northern hardwoods waste no time waking up. There are many plants that have a small window of opportunity. Before the mighty maples, beech, ash, and oak block the sun with their foliage the plants of the forest floor have to mature, bloom, and pollinate. Just a little pressure!

I love to just lay on the warm matte of old leaves and get the bug's eye view of the baby trout lilies, spring beauties, trilliums, and dutchman's breeches. Of course my wonderful wife always laughs when I walk in the door after one of my lazy afternoons amongst my green friends because along with the more notable plants a very pungent plant called the wild leek thrives and it imparts a wonderful scent on my bluejeans and sweatshirt. Just nature's version of Old Spice, I say. I real turn-on, right?

Enough of the wild woods talk. I'm working out there. And I think I have some good images to show for it. And the next time you're out for your Spring walk-in-the-woods. Don't be afraid to stop and take a rest in the warm matte of leaves.

Little Things

Why does a small wildflower bloom in the middle of November? Walking through the back dunes of Petoskey State Park a couple days ago I came across a harebell blooming on the side of a dune. Maybe there was just enough heat energy left in the sand to encourage the plant to produce one more bloom. The insects that may pollinate such a plant are certainly long gone. So you may say that this bloom is wasted. But it wasn't wasted on me. I felt like it was just there for me to enjoy — an audience of one.

And speaking of singularity, This one seed pod floated along the shore and somehow I felt obligated to pick it up and place it on a small piece of driftwood just to honor it's travels — a long way from mother maple. I'm sure by now it has been picked up by the wind and planted itself along one of the many streams that flow into Little Traverse Bay. Someday my grandson will play in its branches.