Tag: signs of spring

Monday’s Meander: A Favorite Place Shared with Family

It is a bit hard to believe it’s still spring, as last night we had a significant snowfall. It still covers roofs and grass as I write. Late last night as it descended, I pulled potted flowers close to the exterior wall, under the eaves, to better protect them. Thus far they seem alright today, amazingly.

Just a couple weeks ago it was light jacket weather. When daughter Cait visited from VA. we enjoyed our springy meanders, including one here: The Bishop’s Close Garden at Elk Rock. I truly adore this spot along the river. A spattering of others were on the paths–so good to see smiles. I’ve often posted pictures of this garden over the years. This time I’ll leave out its interesting Scottish origins and Portland history, and only share shots I managed while talking and walking. A few blooms had opened; it will become more lush and colorful. But Cait was enchanted. I’m happy we experienced this special place together, at last.

Marc and Cait at start of a trail
Top of the path, looking over Willamette River toward Elk Island.

Friday’s Poem: Reach and Grab

Reach, reach and grab, I am beseeched,

threading through splotches of green, spangles of gold,

river wind riffling through hair.

The command speaks to the wintered wait for

elixer of light and spell of flowers,

the proud trees a sprawl of architecture,

each call of a bird definitive, its brilliance

an arc that can overtake my mind.

But other powers capture the world,

and sow misery with seeds so harsh and bitter

they flame in the hand, the throat, the soul:

the dangerous grab reaches this ritual of spring.

Now between steps are prayers frail with words,

tiny balloons that rise, vanish.

In noon heat amid a cooperative of bees

comes this swell of grief.

What safety is a cloak of beauty?

How do I love the world and despise it?

How to open arms to watercolor sky as

storms crouch at the horizon?

Reach, grab life:

may a few burdens settle. I look outward.

An eagle couple observes from a high perch;

fisherman and child cast their lines once more;

a long boat is rowed by eight in deep rhythm;

a melody that arrived at dawn finds my lips,

escapes into bouquet of air, a shining thing.

Treetops wave as I pass.

The yellow of sun offers a mercy.

Reach. Hold on.

Monday’s Meander: In Anticipation…and Travel by Mind

I ran out of time today to complete a post based on outings over the week-end. Between visiting my sister most of the day and then my son and daughter-in-law, the hours flew by. I am also in anticipation of a few events, including spring’s unfolding (see above), as well as our daughter’s arrival from Virginia on Fri. This coincides with several birthdays this month and in April, as well as remembrance of family death dates. I also just learned a sister-in-law is going on hospice care. Grief can seep into beauty, so spring can seem a mixed arena within which to live. I am beyond grateful for each bud, leaflet and startling bloom; the richer sunshine with longer days; fragrant breezes, chorusing birds and a kaleidoscope of colors that overlay the waning greys of winter and brighten the rains of spring. I’ve been walking more vigorously since a cortisone shot to knee and physical therapy. And I do look forward to farther-flung travels as spring and summer come into their glory–and the Covid infection rates dive.

Yet right now the jumble of upcoming birthday celebrations of loved ones coupled with losses can yank me into waves of sadness and tire me out. It’s the contrast of it, the jubilant yes rubbing against the droning no…I have to practice internal balance, and I want to support others, too. I need to strengthen and gird my heart, even as it softens and unfurls like a magnolia bud. I do have God’s presence to keep me steady.

One thing that helps is to travel virtually. Via photography books/blogs, computer or television options, sure, but I really mean mentally. It’s easy and free, after all.

Especially when I have trouble sleeping or keeping my mind on hopeful musings (as has happened lately), I take myself to places I have loved by visualizing them. I think we all do this, and perhaps should more often, as it helps supplant a challnegingt state of being with a nourishing one. For me, one such place is Interlochen, Michigan, where I attended Interlochen Summer Arts Camp (there were others, but Interlochen was the finest)) when growing up. When we visited a few years back, I looked out over Duck Lake and Green lake and thought: making music, writing, acting and dancing in this place infused me with lifesaving hope, enabling me to further pursue passions. The experiences brought revelatory moments with people, places, moments which gave mind and spirit a radiant new sheen, offering freedom to help build a better self, as well as work on skills and talents. I was, then, right at home in that world.

So– that is why I shared, below, the shot of me at Interlochen from that trip, enlivened by great memories, sitting beside a favorite lake in the sweet-summered open air. The scope of life enhancements was such that I could enumerate many blessings as a youth– when much of my world seemed frayed. I can close my eyes and be there…I tell myself: this is true life as much as the hurt of leavetaking; this is faith moving right in the center of troubles. Happiness can be kept holy in divergent ways, and may it be so as needed. This world is so traumatized. I humbly embrace any small gift, and pray for those who are aching and wanting.

I will likely write this “Wednesday’s Words” post, but not a “Friday’s Poem”, and may find it difficult to contribute posts next week due to family activities and several obligations. I will be back. Meantime, I hope you awaken moments of grace in your lives…and keep sharing good love every day. We all need both.

Monday’s Meander: A Garden’s Glimmers of Spring

I’m not much of a gardener–though when I was younger we tended flowers and vegetables and enjoyed some good yards. But I have a deep appreciation for them and make it a point to visit as many as possible year ’round. When Marc travelled often for work, I accompanied him time to time and immediately located gardens (and parks) to wander. Last week as temperatures hit mid-50s, my older sister and I visited Crystal Springs Rhododendren Garden. Spread out over 9.5 acres, it provides a home for over 2500 rhodies, azaelas and other plants. It boasts over 100 types of birds and other creatures (including nutria, not my favorite: it’s a huge water-loving rodent). Waterfowl dominate two separate ponds amid grassy areas. I often post shots of this place seasonally. Spring is not here but I am teased by several flowers blooming by February in Oregon. One I always look for is a shrub of pink, overtly sweet daphne flowerlets. (A photo is below of a bush by a walkway, after a shot of Allanya). It was just enough to give me hope that it’s going to really happen this year–though earlier today it snowed for fifteen minutes!

Being outside with Allanya is fun; we embrace our time together. She has dementia; it can lately be a challenge to get her out and about. She likes exploring nature as long as we rest often. Though her short term memory has significantly worsened the last year, she enjoys a good conversation and offers a ready laugh. As she states: “My memory issue bothers other people, not me–that’s just how it is and goes!” It’s been an adjustment for me over the last 4-5 years. She for decades held executive director positions and was also a dynamo in her personal life. Her essential personality still shines, for now: ebullient, funny, incisive and fascinated by others and life. She is my only living sister now.

Off we went once more. Enjoy the views.

We enjoyed our meander. The sunlight was sheer on mostly empty pathways. There was a slight but edgy breeze, yet earthy fragrances wafted about and to our noses. The waterfowl were dunking and hunting for food, bathing and floating or bobbing about gracefully–and Canadian geese gathered overhead in huge numbers, making a wild good ruckus. In another month or so all will warm up more and brightly hued flowers will be popping out like mad. I’ll shoot more scenes to share when it’s truly springtime.

Friday’s Quick Pick/Photos with Poem: Spring Surrender

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All photos by Cynthia Guenther Richardson

Spring will claim then take you.
It may seem to ease in, inch
by inch, clamor softly at your edges
like verdant chimes ruffled by a breeze.
But eyes open to a baptism of clear light,
nose to a phantasmagoria of scents,
hands to satin petals amid a flurry of tiny wings,
ears to a scherzo of birds, frogs, bees.

Admit it, there can be no illusion of control.
Without your consent, renewal waltzes the body,
slakes a deep thirst from chalice of sky so
you rest in the palm of earth, amid a bounty
of countless, stirring perfections

as the world still plots, hearts grieve,
dreams founder, long stray aches
bind up the night, and phantoms of need
cast furtive shadows across the dawn.
Human life will always bruise, bleed, require
stitching even as we labor to make it safer.
We tend to its frailties but we want for peace.

So let another spring just now take you into
its nucleus of wisdom, its molecular beauties.
Its unprejudiced, forgiving, unerring welcome —
what else does this without your unbelieving retreat?
Say yes, hallelujah and your own sweet amen.

 

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