This handful of moss is so lush, you might think I took a close-up of moss at Sanzen-in, but it’s moss growing on the top of a fence post next to my vegetable beds.
Category: Reflections
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Beauty On a Post
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The Color of Rain
What is the color of rain? Trickling through the trees, it forms dazzling jewels on the tips of leaves and needles. But the real color of rain is green. Rain makes the forest possible. It makes the gardens grow. It lets the bean vines reach for the skies. Places where it rains are green and lush. Rain makes picking fresh herbs in the dead of winter possible. It comes down to this axiom: no rain, no green.
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Even Ditches Can Be Art Museums
Bicycling up the hill on the way home from the post office, the sight of this sculpted wing of ice caught my eye. It was hanging delicately over a rushing cascade. As I looked around, there was one enchanting ice sculpture after another. In a day or two, with warmer weather and rain moving in, they will all be gone.
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What Mother Spent the Summer Here?
With the leaves falling off the bushes, it’s easier to see the nests the birds made this season. So what kind of bird made this nest? A goldfinch perhaps? There are many who spend the summer here. A thrush? It doesn’t look woven tight enough to be a robin’s nest.
Did the eggs hatch and was the mother able to raise her young? Did the chicks leave this place full of fond memories, with plans to return to this little paradise next summer? Did they laugh at the chickens? Fly away when our dogs ran through the woods? Did they watch me working in the vegetable patches? It’s a mystery, and I’ll never know. Life is like that. We go through life not knowing much of anything at all. Until today, I didn’t even know a bird family spent a summer, using this bush, so close to our house, as a home.
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Falling on Water
Autumn leaves are pretty wherever they fall. Sometimes they fall on the water and float among the duckweed. It makes you wonder if they would prefer to decompose on dry land, or float about aimlessly until they sink to the bottom of the pond. If you were a leaf, where you would like to fall?
