Category Archives: Hope

One Tiny Flower

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Who would have thought it possible that a tiny little flower could preoccupy a person so completely that there simply wasn’t room for any other thought. 
                                                                                                                  –  Sophie Scholl*

The yellow wildflowers are here! They grow in the hills, near the river. They seem to know how to set off their soft beauty as they bloom in bunches against the rock face.

You can spot them even from a distance in their little clusters. The yellow shows up nicely in all the spring green growing everywhere.

Spring brings beauty. So much, so many colors. Yet it’s true — one flower provides wonder enough to occupy our hearts completely.

Do you ever feel lost in the mass of folks in your world? Do you feel like you’re just one tiny person at your company, in your neighborhood, in the world of digital vastness? It’s true, in a way. But here’s a reminder that one tiny little flower is of infinite value. And so are you. You are a wonder!

Linking up with Little Things Thursday, Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

Photos are edited with Kim Klassen’s texture Daisy and with Nancy at A Rural Journal’s texture Amy.

*Sophie Scholl lived only 21 years before she was killed during WWII. Her crime: distributing anti-Nazi leaflets. Her story is told in an excellent movie, “Sophie Scholl: The Final Days.” It makes me happy to know that in her short life she enjoyed the beauty of nature.

Celebrating Spring

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In Spring we expand and stretch in all directions. It’s green exuberance and giddiness, bright clown colors, and Easter colors too; the rebirth of the tender growing soul.

                                                                                                                    –Anne Lamott

The colors of Spring are everywhere now. To celebrate this season, here’s a sampling of the colors in my neighborhood: sunny yellows, regal purples, happy  reds, peachy tones, and sparkling blues.

Here’s wishing you a week of color during this time of “rebirth of the tender growing soul.”

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays,Tuesday Muse, and Communal Global.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Hope Blooms

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Where flowers bloom so does hope.
-  Lady Bird Johnson

This is the last rose on the bush. It’s ready to fall a petal at a time. But the color — could it be more lovely, more delicate? This bloom brightens the entire yard.

Hope may not come in a perfect presentation. Hope may come with ragged edges. Still hope can bring a smile. Decorate a day. Brighten our spirits.

Wishing you a week of cheer and hope and lovely color.

Linking up with Project 52 and Little Things Thursday.

Photo is processed with the texture Kimberly from Nancy at A Rural Journal.

 

 

 

 

 

The Scrubby Pine

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Torrey Pines is an area of beach and cliffs in San Diego.

It’s also home to the Torrey Pine, a tree found only here and one other place, named after a botanist’s friend in the 1800s. The scrubby pine grows out of the sandy soil and hangs on the edges of hills.

This pine bends without breaking when sea winds buffet the cliffs.

The Torrey Pine is not the most majestic of pines, not the most beautiful. It is distinctive, though. The stand of pines helped guide those at sea to the shore long before a lighthouse sat atop a San Diego point.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” We may wish we were more beautiful, had accomplished more, or any number of things. The Torrey Pine stands as a reminder to just be ourselves. You never know who is lost at sea, looking to you for inspiration.

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, Little Things Thursday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Ready to Waltz, 1440, and Communal Global.

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s textures Daisy, Isobel and If Only.

 

Winter

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Bare trees stand proudly
Knowing that spring will return
To clothe them in green

This tree outside my living room window stands almost bare against the sky. Lately it’s become a place of bird convos. I have no idea what they are saying but these birds squawk loud and long.

The bareness has a quiet beauty, but I’m looking forward to the time the sky is filled once again with green.

Wishing you a week of winter beauty!

Linking up with Project 52.

Quotation by Tanja Cilia

Rail Trail Journey

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On a recent autumn trip, we enjoyed a bike ride on the Cape Cod Rail Trail.

Before the railroad arrived in Cape Cod, the area was an isolated, narrow strip of land jutting into the Atlantic Ocean. The Old Colony Railroad Company laid tracks in the 1800s, connecting Boston with Provincetown, at the far tip of the Cape. Visitors came to the Cape by trainloads, and food and supplies chugged into the Cape to keep up with the needs of all the people.

But then came the 1900s and cars and bridges over the Cape Cod Canal. The heyday of the trains passed. The rails are paved over now, the trains long gone.

The good news is the paved rail trail is open to bike riders, walkers, runners, even horseback riders. What a beautiful trail it is! In the woods, along the water,  through towns with romantic names like Brewster, Harwich, and Wellfleet.

We stopped in the fishing town of Orleans, where we found this little restaurant decorated with lobster pot buoys. I assume these are “retired” buoys, and some are faded and chipped. Others still pop with color. These are quintessential Cape Cod.

We stopped to eat our picnic lunch on a bench under the canopy of trees. We rode until rain came and soaked us. We dropped off our bikes, drenched not only with rain but also with the happiness of being a part of this land rich in history and beauty.

Those who built the railroad meant for it to be used for trains, forever. That didn’t happen, but the trail still brings joy. It’s still well used.

We prepare, we build, we forge careers or businesses. They may or may not last our whole lives. Maybe children came along and our priorities changed. Maybe an illness or injury happened. Maybe it’s simply the passing of years.

We may start out as railroad tracks and end up as bike paths. What matters is that we can still bring a smile to those around us.

 

Linking up with Texture Tuesday, where the assignment this week is to show a pop of color, Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Little Things Thursday, and Communal Global.


Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s texture 1412.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last Light

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Have you ever wanted to hang on to the last light of the day?

Yesterday I caught colorful winter flowers late in the afternoon. At first, they stood in the bright sun. They contrasted with the sharp shadows on the leaves. They shone.

The daffodils looked downright happy.

The various flowers in their deep tones of blue and purple and yellow and red waved in the breeze.

In only a handful of minutes, shadows grew longer. Just a bit more daylight, the flowers seemed to say. No blazing sunset with oranges and reds decorated the sky. The day brought simply a slow fading across the blooms.

Sometimes we try so hard to hang onto the light. Dark circumstances come anyway. Night falls. But this is what we know. The morning will come again. The sunlight will shine. Today was just as filled with light as yesterday was. Joy comes in the morning.

Linking up with  Sweet Shot Tuesdays, Tina’s PicStory, Texture Tuesdays, Give Me Your Best Photo Story Friday, and Communal Global.

 

Give me your best shot at Better in BulkPhotoStory Friday
Hosted by Cecily and Lolli
 

Photos are processed with Kim Klassen’s texture 1301.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter Wait

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What do you think of when you see the bare branches of winter? Even in my California desert city, trees lose their leaves and stand stark and gray in the bleak midwinter. I saw many today when I walked along the river.

Some have leaves turned yellow but still hanging on, as if they just don’t want to give up. But soon even these last bits of gold will flit away.

These trees make me think of waiting. They are standing there, still beside the river that ripples along with recent rains. They bask in the weak winter sun. They are waiting, waiting for the spring when they will be decorated with fresh green and new life.

Waiting is tough. My family is waiting on health news and job news, and it’s hard. To be still and be patient does not come naturally. So I look at these trees and hear the river moving and feel the sun and think about how they are waiting for spring. Then I see it. They are not their most beautiful right now, but they are in the right place for them, rooted near water, lifting branches to the sun.

The bareness will soon enough be filled with spring growth because they have all they need: water and light. They look dead, but they are taking in nourishment. I can hardly wait to see these trees in full bloom again.

For me, trust in God gives me roots. Psalm 1 says, “He will be like a tree planted by the rivers of water.”

How about you? Are you waiting for something? What gives you nourishment while you wait?

 

Linking up with This or That Thursday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays and Communal Global.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking for the Light

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We are in shock, mourning our lost. The young ones in school, learning about life, preparing for the years to come that now they will never have. Gone too soon. Teachers sheltering their students, giving their lives to protect them. A safe place invaded. Innocence lost.

How can we respond to this kind of darkness? We shed tears, we whisper prayers, we hug. We cry for the children. We cry for the grown-ups. We have no words to imagine what the families are going through, those who cherished these little angels more than life itself.

Advent is a season when we celebrate the coming of light to the darkness. But the world seems darker now. Children are lost. Toys will go unclaimed.

Homes are filled not with joy but with grief.

We read that the light came into the world and the darkness could not overcome it. And in the darkness is where we realize how much we need light.

We sing about angels and joy and peace, but the words stick in our throats.

Some of the carols we sing have a dark side. Have you ever noticed the songs in a minor, sad key? The words that speak of troubles: “Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away.” And “From now on our troubles will be miles away.” And “Tidings of comfort and joy.” If we need comfort, something is not quite right.

For now, the minor and major are mixed up together. The comfort and the joy are both part of our days.

We will have to search harder to find the light this year. We’ll have to look in the cracks around us to see slivers of it shining through. The good news is that light dispels the darkness, faint and hard to see as it may be. And we’ll see it when we cherish our family and friends. When we make the effort to brighten someone’s day. When we love as if there’s no tomorrow.

How about you? How are you finding light this season?

 

Photos are of ornaments on my Christmas tree. Some are edited with Kim Klassen’s texture 1412. Linking up with This or That Thursday, Sweet Shot Tuesdays and Communal Global.


 

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