“My book waits for me, a patient but not passive
presence. We are intimates – this book and I.”
“…the thinly shaved, holey bark of a eucalyptus. the hairy skin of a
redwood. furrowed, coarse covering of a Douglas fir. the sacred white of a
paper birch. a wide hand of a maple leaf…I
might go on and on like that.”
“Strange to feel
how alive everything is even when it looks so inert in the breezeless air.”
“Just in front of the pine tree with that huge dead
brown limb that I wish I could reach with pruners is a twig upon which just sat
a twittery little bird. This parched and hungry land reminds me to be grateful
for verdancy, where it lives, and for the harvests of food to nourish living
beings.”
“Writing about that delicious moment of nature’s
abiding beauty and glory is a great reminder as I head out to my hospice
patient today: the preciousness of this one life.”
“I delight in trees, in sunshine and rain, in
wind, and in the incredibly rich bounty of nature’s colors, textures, fissures,
and power.”
(Unedited journal excerpts from this month)
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| paper I made several years ago from junk mail |
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2015 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
