Monthly Archives: May 2016

Shooting Star Wildflower Watercolor

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Did you ever just happen to be staring at the night sky and be pleasantly surprised by a shooting star? That moment of being caught off guard and suddenly delighted is exhilarating. It is something you really cannot plan.

Recently while hiking, I too was caught off guard by shooting stars…not in the night sky but on the ground. These shooting stars will last a bit longer than the ones they are named after, but not much longer; As so do all spring wildflowers, here today and gone tomorrow.

You can imagine my merriment when staring at the ground I came upon an entire field of them.

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Astounding.

Jesus contemplated the flowers being beautiful and related them to our care. Look what He states:

“So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more cloth you, O you of little faith?”
Matt 6:28-30

I think of these things while hiking.

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We are loved more than the beauties in the field.
Amen.

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Fern Moss and Shelf Mushroom Watercolor

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45°F cold rain

I am wearing my rain gear with layers of clothing bundled underneath as I walk on a grassy trail laced with mud. I don’t mind the mud nor do I mind the cold drizzle on my face. In a lifetime of Monday thru Friday, 9-5 numbness, the cold drizzle is a welcome. It makes me feel alive.

On a particular section of trail, I find a banditry of chickadee. Their chatter is loud and overwhelming. I do not know what they are saying for I do not speak chickadian. Perhaps I am the subject of their banter, disrupting them on a day where they do not expect many humans?

They unwittingly halt me in my tracks. As I stand there looking up, something tells me to look down….

At my feet, I discover another world…. a glowing white shelf mushroom carpeted by brilliant green moss, set contrast to a dark saturated tree stump. I no longer hear the clatter of the chickadees, because I am lost in the contour of the moss. My eyes follow every fern-like curve. I observe its green gradient from dark green- to medium- to light- to white tips.

The chickadees are not amused by my fern moss and mushroom rapture, so they maintain their scold.  I know when I’m not welcome. I’m leaving. I’m leaving.

I walk away knowing the secret of where my beauties live…..under the chant of the chickadees.

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