Saturday, September 12, 2009

SIMPLE SATURDAY MORNING

Saturday morning along the river. On the hill above the cottage, the rising sun is climbing through my neighbor’s towering sycamore. The air is cool and damp, sweet.

Moon the dog and I amble up the drive to the road so I can look in the mailbox, because I can’t remember checking it last evening. Nope, nothing inside. Which still doesn’t tell me whether I retrieved whatever there was yesterday, or forgot and the box is empty simply because nothing was delivered.

Either way, I’m probably losing my mind.

The grass wears a silver sheen of dew. It is still a deep, luscious green. Here and there tiny water droplets sparkle like diamonds on velvet.

In a shadowy corner along the fenceline, a few tattered leaves hang suspended in a bit of sun, illuminated as if by a spotlight. Without the dramatic lighting those leaves wouldn’t merit a second glance. And yet now, momentarily, they’re quite captivating—made special by the light.

Isn’t that so often the case with us? Aren’t we all sometimes uplifted, transformed, made special by a certain setting and the power of an outside source? Love, for example—when it is good—brightens and inspires, raises us up, restores, empowers.

We can all always become so much more than the plain old mundane us when transfigured by an outside light.

Back at the cottage, I stand on the bank and watch the river’s moving mirrored surface scatter and swirl the pinkish morning sunlight. I never tire of seeing the interplay of light and current.

Moving water has always captivated me in a way that water stilled never manages. Not that a lake or pond can’t be astonishingly lovely. But they don’t speak to me the way moving water does; streams are alive, fellow travelers. Creeks and rivers, brooks and rills seem possessed of their own restless spirit…a feeling I know well.

Seasonal change is afoot here along the river—though there’s not yet much to see other than a few clumps of yellow-brown leaves distributed here and there amongst the otherwise still-green foliage of the sycamores.

The tiny quick hummingbirds are still hanging around. I keep expecting them to vanish any day—and they will, eventually, when whatever embedded bit of ruby-throat wisdom stirs and whispers its annual message—informing them the time to head south has arrived.

Not, however, on this sunny, blue-sky Saturday morning. The only thing moving onward today is the river….

21 comments:

The Weaver of Grass said...

Yesterday, Scribe, I had a lovely journey through my dale in glorious sunshine and said on my blog that it was food for my soul. Today you have given me another helping of soul-food - isn't it wonderful how we can feel so uplifted by our surroundings? I love that first picture of the sun thro' the sycamore - in fact I love all the pictures. Wonderful stuff. Thank you for a lovely read.

TheChicGeek said...

Ahhhh, that was a beautiful way to wake up today. Thank you, for this. Not only have you put a smile on my face and given me a giggle with the mailbox, you've inspired me with your words and photographs.

You describe your surroundings in such a beautiful way, "silver sheen of dew, tiny water droplets sparkle like diamonds on velvet"...so lovely.

And these words, "Aren’t we all sometimes uplifted, transformed, made special by a certain setting and the power of an outside source? Love, for example—when it is good—brightens and inspires, raises us up, restores, empowers. We can all always become so much more than the plain old mundane us when transfigured by an outside light."...words of truth and light.

Thank you for this! May your weekend be a beautiful one filled with the light and love of which you speak. :D

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Weaver…

There is more truth than we likely care to admit to that line…perception is reality.

What we're doing, who we're with—and especially where we're at and what the weather/season/time-of-day is like can all alter our mood, revive our soul, depress us, fill us with hope or perhaps despair, make us joyful.

Places and weather matter. They can be the best medicine.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

ChicGeek…

Aw, shucks, ma'am…t'warn't nothin' but li'l ol' me takin' a walk. Glad to have you along.

(How's that for a 1940s Candyman-style "thank you"? Yeah, probably a little too much Dean Martin and not enough John Wayne.)

Seriously, thank you. I'm glad you giggled and smiled and felt good afterwards. May you have an equally delightful and lovely weekend. BTW—love your blog and the music and the photos…and soooo many awards! Oh my!

Bernie said...

What a beautiful start to your day Grizz.....you always amaze me how the simple bounties of nature brings you so much contentment. If only more had your sight for beauty. Happy Saturday....:-) Hugs

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Bernie…

All I know how to do is use what I have—to enjoy, examine, and write about. I try to relate the natural world to who I am and what I think and feel because I believe, bottom line, I'm pretty elemental…not special or insightful or talented, just occasionally illuminated by a natural light.

Happy Saturday, as well. Take care.

Gail said...

Hi Grizz-

this view of flowing water, morning light, sparkling dew, the hint of color change, the possibility of the newness of the day was all so beautiful and inspiring. I loved tagging along with you as you pointed out what was worthy of notice this day. I enjoy seeing what you see, hearing what you hear, learning what you know. I can easily get lost in the stillness of the ponds out front - the reflections and movement of all that lives there is so wondrous to notice. ANd the sounds are endless. But the brook at its peak force is so powerful to watch - and when I step in, as I often do, I am ravished like a victim of it's assault as it surrounds me, holds me, wraps it's force before me and after me so I am at it's command. It is the most lovely surrender - breaking all barriers of the other meanings I could associate with such a feeling - and I become one with it - we bond naturally - and I can see it's design and direction, damage and redefining it's path - and the sound? I am of such lesser force..

Love to you
Enjoy your weekend
Love Gail

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Gail…

Glad you came along and enjoyed the morning amble.

I'm not sure what the ducks would have made of it if I'd just ambled on into the river…as you mention sometimes doing with your brook. Moon the Dog would have taken in any such urge to become one with the river from the dry security of the stone steps—no wetting of the fur for that ol' gal; Moon has never been a water dog. And my recently awakened, under-caffeined body might have gone into immediate shock from the cold water. (Well, perhaps not cold, but cool, seeing as how it been down into the 50s several nights in a row.)

I do understand your meaning, though, and the desire to immerse yourself in experience. I've never been a man of moderation; I always want the full experience, all I can get. Life is about living large, not holding back.

Maybe one of these mornings (before genuinely cold water) I need to lay the camera aside, warn the ducks, reassure the dog…and keep ambling.

Have a great weekend!

Jenn Jilks said...

Your blogs are always filled with intersting comments and brilliant photos. I saw the geese land on the lake today. About 30 of them. I had my videocam out and ready, too!

I am ready for the change to fall.

BTW
Ad for my other blog: calling bloggers over age 50.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Jenn…

I'm glad you like the posts, and I always appreciate your nice comments.

I'm not ready for fall—not because I care that fall-which-leads-to-winter comes along (don't mind winter, either) but because I'm really enjoying our cool summer and I hate to see it come to an end...even if it is by equally cool fall. But the color will be nice, and the change of birds, and those great autumnal skies.

KGMom said...

Your cottage by the river continues to have the most breath-taking scenery.
And such scenes are most welcome--we had suffered through two dreary days with a storm coming from the east, off the Atlantic. Two plus inches of rain has certainly dampened my spirits.
I think I like the pink water shot best of all, but that's a hard pick among so many inviting photos.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

KGMom…

No rain here, yet…though sooner or later our luck will run out. But not, I hope, before I get some stuff planted tomorrow.

I might have to agree with you on favorite shots with this post—although I do also like the other one of the river.

When it comes to beauty in variety, it's the river that provides many of my shots in one way or another. But I do believe you can find lots of amazing things to photograph almost anywhere—though some places are easier to "work."

TheChicGeek said...

Awww, shucks, Grizzly, you did it again....LOL :D

Thanks (Blush) :D

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

ChicGeek…

Good thing I didn't opt for Mickey Spillane, huh?

Gail said...

Hi Grizz-

Yes, I think an amble or saunter, or wade in to the cool river water is in order before it gets too cold.

And yes, I felt that you live large and in full expression and involvement in all you do. :-) My references about my brook are deep rooted and powerful forces that consume and surround me. It is abuse recreated to empower through surrender at nature's command. Does this make sense? I thought you tip-toed around my intent - which is so understandable given the context. It is an important experience for me and it felt worthy of more explanation to you. I trust this is okay, okay?

Love you
Gail
peace......

Hildred and Charles said...

Gorgeous pictures, - nice philosophy.

C Hummel Kornell a/k/a C Hummel Wilson said...

Lovely wake up reading. Thanks!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Gail…

I did understand what you were saying, your intent and reasoning behind the remarks…but you are right, I chose the oblique rather than the direct in my return comments. Not from lack of empathy, but because I understand human fragility and the tenuous nature of strength and recovery—how even a single word thoughtlessly written or misunderstood can cause disappointment or pain.

I don't want to ever do this intentionally—but I have to be especially careful because I tend to quip and kid around. Being quick-witted and smart-mouthed is, at best, a two-edged sword...but a sword that can, nevertheless, wound.

That's why I edge around some matters. It's not the situation but myself I fear. One of the things about living large and full-bore is that if you're not really careful, you leave a lot of roadkill in your wake....

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Hildred & Charles…

I do believe this—in fact, the older I get, the more I realize how much I owe others for what I heretofore thought of as purely my own.

Thank you for your kind words.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

C Hummel…

Hey, good morning! Glad to you made it up! :-)

And, you're quite welcome.

Gail said...

Hi Grizz-

Your kind and sensitive considerations are such a precious quality you have and gift of self you share that I SO appreciate.

Love to you
Gail
peace.....