Tag: Tree

April beauty

My April flower – Jacque- montia, big name for a bushling, already a favorite in our tiny balcony garden. It is war with local pigeon though, that want to nest here. One feather head, Tina born here, now tries tag her brood in, every season along with speckled partner. They are a mess, and we’ve told them that. They need to get independent. Get a tree. They won’t listen. Now there’s Jacquemont– found her at a local shop, she loves the sun. Reminds me of India. Teeming with survival.

Indoors for a closer capture of tiny blossom. (Painting is by Kitsy Ruth: Waterfall/blossom).

Wrapt in a good Friday

It is that kind of day. Two months ago, at a local farm I made this wreath from moist root, dead branch and thorn tails. I left it to dry, wrapt in gauze tissue, then forgot all about it. Today my husband NJ put it on the mantel. It was still fragrant with raw bark, and tree tang. And some softened thorn sting.

Good Friday is that kind of day. Life at Crossbeams. In the raw. Decibels of disbelief. The chaos of Belief! I gawk at it all hang jaw.

Thank You Yeshuva.

Wrapt.

Pray in the Stars

Something that began in a dawn:

Sean Parker Photography, Joshua Tree park.

…before the day lends you her voice, sing in the silent beams of dawn, lean yourself on the face of light as it breaks the dark,

oh burrow your heart in true Light’s ceaseless pressure, shifting shade, pulsing throbbing warming cold cold night.

Pray in His heart, yeah the ‘oceans rage and the peoples imagine a vain thing’, as clay returns to clay and dust to dust,

Hush in the hour as Dawn begins

hide in the Arms of Prayer, hold It against your soul: here no greed for power, no need for self arrest your heart: here oh here, begin,

where no foot of pride hides in prophecies of doom, where no angel weeps but for the joy of Heaven, and no anthem of ‘self’ rules-

ach! None but His:

Who’s Breath breathes for me&you: born to Cross hell with Him, here arrest restlessness, keel, kneel, pray in the first light of Heaven that with bated breath waits,

here, before it is too late, pray my soul in His heart.

****

What the Cross means to me,

What happens when people pray

The naked prayer

Text prayers

That summer 40 days in the Red sea

Bouquet from the King

One dawn at a time

It is Time