Ms. Woodibee A. Bird

September 03, 2017  •  2 Comments

As we walk through the woods, I inhale breaths of nearing rain, falling leaves, and smiling critters. Is this possible? Surely, it must be. It's happening. I'm inhaling these moments.


Hang on; I spy something on the ground. Looking so very much like a bird but just as much like a dried branch, it juts up from the pathway's edge.


Gently, I gather it in my eager hands.


Raising it, getting a better perspective, and looking at this treasure with amazement, I am sure. It's a bird. 


My husband agrees. It does look like a bird. 


Knowing, I cannot go home without it, the plotting and planning begins. After all, I cannot carry it the entire hike. After carefully placing it on a nearby, fallen log, for safe storage, we embark deep into the woods. 


Rain, smelling something like freshness swirling in the air with oxygen, is magical. Deep breathing sends this sensation from my nose to my toes, literally, smiling. 


Like autumn's confetti, falling leaves join. It's easily becoming an actual celebration. Inviting September's presence could not be a more festive occasion, short of me having a cup of hot cider in tow. 


The critters are joyfully gathering goodies in preparation of the approaching, cooler temperatures. I know they are smiling, because they have an extra bounce or two in their trips up, down, and around the tree trunks.  


My husband and I walk, talk, and feel comfortable here. Typically averaging four miles, several times weekly, you could say we are regular with visiting the woods. 


Short of stopping just long enough to gather the you-know-what, we are minutes away from home.


These days, Ms. Woodibee A. Bird is perfectly happy living in the old greenhouse. She is even quite photogenic, as you can tell. 


I spent some time in the greenhouse, this morning, with my trusty camera and Ms. Woodibee A. Bird. Sometimes and more often than not, I laugh aloud when I see the outtakes on the camera. There are blurry results, misplaced hands, messy hairdos, and all sorts of differing options for a mishap. Today, I share these with you because it feels right. Hopefully, the outtakes, photography, and writing, bring you a few minutes of relaxation and repose.


All my love and friendship,



August 29, 2017  •  Leave a Comment


It's early.


I'm awake.


Mornings bring the kind of quiet that delivers an extra portion of mindful moments. There's a hush surrounding me. 


The universe is listening. 


More subtle, but most pleasing is the reverberation of absolutely nothing. This is when I hear the less obvious; my arm passing the fabric of the sofa's arm as I reach for a sup of coffee, the gentle hum of the refrigerator, the lonesome cricket that must need an invitation to my quiet-time because he's obviously asking, and my finger taps upon the keyboard as the words join bringing us together. 


These are my companions this morning; shy sounds that I discover, more often than not, and typically in perfect attendance. 


Glancing to the left, I see the old greenhouse. It attaches to the house, much like a visual muse, and inviting me to come inside. 


I go. 


My hands find a bloom, from a generous hosta plant. The tired wooden chair offers her back for support. It is peaceful in here this morning. 



What does today have in store for us? 


I have absolutely no idea, but the gentle entrance of these morning hours can't hurt.



All my love and kindness,


Be Bigger

August 21, 2017  •  2 Comments

Be Bigger



Be bigger than you think you can. 

Why not?

Amidst creating a home studio, my daughter and I are unpacking and sorting old boxes. Considering this lil' guy has not seen the light of day in nearly twenty years, he looks pretty good. The memories are galloping between a mother and daughter as though the gates are open and all the horses are free.


We smile.

We sigh.

We relish those times and these moments.

"He seems smaller than I recall," she says.

"Childhood is like that, Sweetie."

"Lets keep him out, free from storage, at least for a time," I lean in and whisper. 

She giggles. "Really, Mom?"

I weave through the scraps of cardboard and squish the packing papers between my hands. The trash bag swallows the offerings, bulges, and reflects a fullness that doesn't require dessert. 

I bring him to the greenhouse. What else could I do? He's adorable. 

Funny how something so small is a bottomless well of childhood memories. 


He reminds me of the way in which anything can be bigger.


We can be bigger, without limitations to our happiness, creativity, or anything for that matter. 



Be bigger than you believe you are.

Be bigger because you have endless potential to magnify your dreams.



Be bigger because you can. 

Like this lil' guy, when you least expect it, someone will see you for all the glorious gifts you stow. And when this happens, life gets bigger and better. You get bigger and better.


It's just a little something to consider. 



I'm returning to the studio work. 

Wish me luck, smiling.



Summer's Spell

June 27, 2017  •  2 Comments

I suppose it's the fervor of summer that brings romance to the air. The sun warms everything from cocoons to blossoms, revealing eager butterflies and colorful flowers. 


I come home from vacation to find much progress in the gardens. As a stunt, played by a jealous jester, I swear the weeds grew in generous proportions to the time away.

I must admit. June is bounteous.


Longer days. Warmer temperatures. Enticing color palates. Not to lack mention of the bountiful floral fragrances because to do so would seem an obvious omission.


You get it. The list is long.


It appears this plot to seduce me to the outside works.


How can I resist?


Like romance, it's alluring.

I gather the camera and slip into sandals.


Before I even consider what is happening, I fall prey to summer's spell. He knew I would. The bright ones are continually cultivating plots. All the while, tending their seeds.


The warm sun is not shy either; provoking me to linger longer and longer. 

With proof that I overstay, I eventually return to the house with twenty-three images.


It's funny the way this happens, time-and-time again.


Like an adolescent lost in the trance of her first love affair, I am unable to explain why or how it takes longer than it should. On the other hand, what is the hurry anyway? 

The flowers do return each year; perhaps in varying shapes, sizes, and positions but I can accept this.


In likeness, love returns, as well.


The motivation for this happy life never ceases to amaze.

It's official.


I choose to remain a girl servant to this ever-evolving, never-uninteresting life. Because it is true, amidst quiet patience and genuine intentions, all things are possible. 


Returning To Dear Friends

May 31, 2017  •  2 Comments

It is chilly and rainy. However, in more ways than one, the cozy, stillness of days like this one feels entirely natural. It attracts me, even. 


My daughter, Kandice, married the love of her life, Tim, on Sunday.


Our hearts are full.


As does any well-adjusted Mother of the bride following her daughter's wedding celebration, I welcome the comforts of a little solitude this morning. 


Oh, how I have missed sharing not only photography but words, as well.


I greatly value not only the quietness of this recently returning free time but also our visits, sharings, and friendships. I need our time together; it feels like one of those tender bonds that fall right back into the well-friended space between two people that can't do anything less than feel just right. 


I charge the camera this morning, make coffee, and walk through the house. I offer up a little giggle to the family room floor, as I remove my sandals. Why not return to the comfort of bare feet? All houseguests left already, and my toenails are a sparkly, silver shade offering more proof of a recent wedding. 


It's obvious the time quickly passes because the camera is ready to enjoy; full battery and shutter button under an eager finger. I'm smiling through my eyes and out the lens. 


Click, click, and click.


Even if I only get a few feet from where I start, it doesn't matter. The enjoyment is monumental. 


I pause, move a little closer and to the right just a smidge.




This image is the one. I can tell. 


The coffee table grouping is ordinary, on the one hand, but extraordinary on the other at this moment. Does that make sense? I hope so. To me, it does. I love noticing the beauty in simplicity. 


The dried rosemary aroma wafts through the air just long enough to remind me that it still has an offering to share.


The tiny bird atop the candle snuffer reminds me of the gentle love that brings a daughter to gift something special to her mom on Mother's Day. Kandice is thoughtful like this; noticing heartfelt details that matter to others. 


I press the keyboard and finish up my message to you this morning, all the while feeling appreciative for this opportunity in which we come together across the cosmos. 


I'm thankful for you and your offerings. 


I feel humbled, by the inspiration that erupts, from living fully alive. 





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