You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘nature's rhythms’ tag.

Although my symptoms continue constricting my life experience to the bare-bones essential, vibrant life still streams through my study windows. Through one of them, male cardinals have flitted among branches of the summer snowflake viburnum, possibly scouting a suitable place for a nest—Seems like they did that last year.

This morning, two females, their beaks filled with a single twig and bleached grasses, hovered over the designated site, dropped their loads, their getaways, a flurry of reddish-browns. Indeed, another nest is in progress. That also means yellow-mouthed fledglings, anxious feedings—insects, partially digested earthworms, around the clock.

The return of mating cardinals in my backyard also carries spiritual significance, especially as my end-time plays out.

With their reddish plumage, they stir deeper courage facing life’s challenges. They also serve as spirit guides, as models for embracing instinctive obedience to cyclical cues of life, and for activating the root chakra, red in color, that brings up emotions and beliefs around loyalty and a sense of belonging. 

Cardinals’ mating for life speaks of God’s unconditional love for all creation. They can also show up as a positive omen for finding your soul mate or twin flame, any time during the life span. 

Never having experienced death in my body before, other than obvious signs of aging, I’ll be specially companied during the coming weeks. I’m deeply moved …

Sun-tinged chill projects two shadows upon the asphalt road: One steadying the left elbow of the other, using a cane; save for its rhythmic tap, hush impregnates the afternoon. It feels like Advent, dormant and still waiting.

Varied brown remains of dried pin oaks and sycamores, empty pods from mimosa trees, and pine needles pattern each step with beauty. Blackened is the row of cone flowers, nearby, their heads raised in expectation; the same for the cluster of sedum, having lost their autumn lavenders.

In a neighbor’s yard, berries redden on Christmas holly shrubs. Aproning the base of their solitary ginkgo tree are buttery fan-shaped leaves. And next door, the naked limbs of a giant maple reveal two squirrel nests.

Only the Missouri Honeysuckle entwined in the chain-linked fence still holds some of its watery-green leaves; darker shades lay at the bottom, in varying stages of dismemberment. And nearby, a splattering of multi-colored leaves still droop from the viburnum shrub; its eventual bareness will give way to its former greening in spring.

As if this display is too much, tree sparrows make holiday like aerialists zinging beneath circus tents. Then, a solitary cardinal swoops to a feeder, its action caught in the lens of my companion.

Such impressions quiet the soul for prayer. Gladness follows in its wake.

Would that Advent’s barren beauty could remain longer …

Like bats, their wings compressed, clinging to ceilings of caves, copper leaves pose naked upon stringy branches of my London plane tree—their indecision severe whether to hold on or to let go. Occasional whisper-breezes interrupt their pondering, their listless pirouetting of pointed toes, but still the leaves hang. Most have already dropped, with additional shriveling and tearing and dismemberment.

The lesson is obvious.

Available on Amazon

%d bloggers like this: