pattering rain
the last of your saved letters
return to me

insects on their way to work lilacs

letting go
the dandelion
and me

bleeding heart
first spring
without you

despite your absence

just being

for Robin

ag ~ May 2013


Twas a great day for a woodsy hike along a stream in Jockey Hollow National Park.  George Washington and his troops camped here that frigid winter of the crossing of the Delaware to reverse the tide in favor of our fledgling nation.  On these days, remnants of that bygone era remain admist flora and fauna of a birthing spring.  I had to look hard for the emerging shoots (red and green) of skunk cabbage.  Water Striders were creating ripples on still water and delicate shoots of moss created mini-forests.  It was in the mid-fifties for the third day in a row and I could feel the sap rising in the trees and me.















































along the path

stones remember

for us


ag ~ March 2013







Due North

It’s the first evening of extra daylight and the cacophony of gaggles of Canadian Geese returning to their summer grounds north of here.  It always delights and amazes me to see (and sometimes only hear), these migrating birds on the wing and always flying true north or south.  Spring is in the air when the  birds of many tribes return and fill the sky with their conversations and songs.  Soon to follow – buds, bulbs and blossoms.


crocus energy

the tilt toward

new light

ag ~ March 2013

Thaw ~ NaHaiWriMo #18

Mid-winter thaw between storm fronts. One early bird serenades with a song indicative of many soon to come. They are returning – the song birds to scout sites for nest-building. Although there is constant change – there is the consistency of the natural world cycling through the seasons. I grew up where there is a distinct change of seasons and cannot ever outgrow the wonder that spring births after winter’s dormancy. I would be unhappy eliminating any one season for the totality of another. However, neither would I mind living in Camelot where winter exits on the dot. March 1st would be the proverbial dot in this case. Until then, I am enjoying the fickle weather patterns and dreaming of the greening of spring.

Pisces comes calling the mellow cat stretch head to toe

ag ~ 2013

Tolling Bells ~ NaHaiWriMo #10

It was a quiet Sunday morning two days after blizzard conditions. We got off fairly easy in my area – only about nine inches and no major power outages. However, the memory of Hurricane Sandy still resonates. On my way to paint in a studio that I am sharing with other artists, the local church bells resounded as did a woodpecker’s sharp drumming earlier. Into the silence – the musical tones and beats lifted and soared.

#10 prompt: gardens

Sunday chimes
for my wildflowers
blue snow shadows

ag ~ 2013

Frost Forest ~ Mindful Writing Challege #23




















I have been taking photos of the landscape lately in order to paint scenes in acrylics and pastels.  The study of light and shadow, color and value is what makes a painted piece appealing whether or not it is realistic, impressionistic or abstract.  I tend toward impressionism and abstraction, but have humbly learned that I need to “learn the rules in order to break the rules” in order to paint an abstract naturescape with fullness and beauty.  Therefore, any chance I get to take photo studies helps me toward this goal.  When I awoke this morning and saw these frost scenes etched on my window – I was amazed once again at nature’s creative hand.  These etchings depict real forest woodlands in friezes on my window.  Nature took and developed the photos for me and placed them where I would not miss seeing them!  Who could ask for more?  Spirit is gently egging me on and lending opportunities to notice, observe more closely and  enjoy her beauty in all forms.  I love these and will share my depiction of them, hopefully in the near future.




Winter blues ~ Mindful Writing Challenge #22

Just as the Eskimos have multiple names for snow – I believe that we in the colder areas of the US and Canada should have more than one name for winter. There is the deep of winter, the heart of winter, mild winter, sucky winter, winter blues, winter beauty etc. I love winter because it is a time for introspection, and the winter sky is as blue and clear as any I’ve ever seen. I much prefer the cold to the high heat and humidity of our east coast summers. However, there are days in winter when I seem to get sucked into a hopeless dirty-snow gray. Today was one of those days even without the graying snow. It was a moody gray that no amount of soup could dispel. Only the pines could soften my view.

another goodbye on the horizon coyotes howl

ag ~ 2013

Quiet Language ~ Mindful Writing Challenge #21

Early morning ~ mid 20’s I was walking the dog round our usual course through the nursery fields and wooded areas. The sun was pale and the air was still after yesterday’s hard blow. All in all, it felt good to be walking along. For the first time since the hurricane in October, I heard garden voices ~ the quiet conversation of songbirds in winter. They were foraging for food and there were some territorial issues, a small chase in flight but otherwise flocking together. I had noticed a decline in the bird population so I was very happy to see cardinals, chickadees, titmice, and sparrows. Yesterday a hawk flew close by. The nursery – fields and woods (20 acres) is my home – literal and emotional. It is the place I go to weep, give thanks, seek solace, share joy, beg for guidance and absorb the wonder of all wildlife including trees, animals, insects, minerals, sky and soil. Here is where I come to listen to the quiet language of the Earth, and I am always welcome. I am happy to see my friends – the winged ones flit, fly, chitter and converse once again.

as the land holds stories unfold in garden voices


A Stranger At My Door ~ Mindful Writing Challenge #18

Almost deep dusk – he knocks on my door. I am in the midst of baking muffins and prepping for tonight’s dinner. “Who’s there?” is the call to the unusual timing and knocking. “Are you Connie?” he asks. “No”. However, as I look outside in the frigid cold and see him standing there in full uniform, I realize it’s the Fish and Game Warden come in answer to our inquiry – only it’s almost too late to check on the illegal traps hooked up to the nursery deer fence. Someone is trying to snare fox illegally as they belly-crawl under the fence. I’m glad he’s come, but not when I am timing savory muffins in the oven and searing sea scallops on stovetop whilst I cook quinoa and swiss chard. First time that I’m really cookin’ in a long time, and he appears at my doorstep. I live and work at the same place ~ a lovely non-commute and at the same time – always available come rain or shine, blizzard or hurricane. All at once, after he checks the legality of the traps (and removes them), we converse and bond over a love of fox, deer, coyote, mice, squirrels, opossum and all critters whom, if left to their own devices, would remain in balance as nature does best. A stranger who knocked on my door only an hour earlier leaves as a kindred spirit sharing a love of woodland and forest.

fox tracks
under the fence
bare ground

ag ~ January 2013