Posts Tagged With: sky

Where the point lies

Searching for a particular picture last week, I noticed a pattern in my photos: horizon shots.  Loads and loads of them.  The sky, usually blue, the horizon, winding.

I could never live in the woods or the mountains – one word:  claustrophobic.  As a prairie girl, the horizon is grounding to me.  Only see up? Not a chance. I need to see out.

Getting out of the city and rolling through hills, farms and fields … cathartic.  So, when life piles up on me, I go.  Tunes, coffee, road trip, gone.

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Lake Diefenbaker, lake of my childhood

Deck view from Crosswinds in Whitehall, MI ... ahh

Deck view from Crosswinds in Whitehall, MI … ahh

 

Lake Huron .. from inside my car, way too cold to get out and stand!

Lake Huron .. from inside my car, way too cold to stand outside!

Stevie the dog and the road to home. An Emjayandthem (C) photo

Stevie the dog and the road to home. An Emjayandthem (C) photo

Just had to stop here and take in the view, Pure Michigan

Just had to stop here and take in the view, Pure Michigan

:: loved riding around with Dad on land like this :: And Emjayandthem (C) photo

Loved riding around with Dad on farm land like this.  And Emjayandthem (C) photo

“Why does every road eventually narrow into a point at the horizon? Because that’s where the point lies.”  Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

 

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Is there a pattern in the photos you’ve taken? What is it?

Categories: Attitude, Beauty, Faith, Life, Personal, Quotes | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

And a slow healing began

Something I love about traveling is meandering around in a new environment.  Going home to the family farm in Saskatchewan is no different. No, it’s not new, but it’s new to my soul in a way that says, “C’mere kid-in-the-city  … breathe this, relax a minute and for goodness sakes, touch home base already.”

Because I live in the Eastern Time zone, my bio-clock is hours ahead of the prairies which, by the way, don’t change their clocks for anyone.  There’s no particular reason that I know of, just didn’t see the need to I suppose.

But, because of that, I found myself up hours earlier than Mom. Fine with me; I’d start the coffee and quietly slip outside into that sweet morning air.

What a gentle and lovely way to wake.

Mom’s flowers

I’d walk around and listen for the songs of the songbirds, embrace the wind and the sounds of my shoes crunching on the gravel below. And then I’d stop and hear not a thing more.  Ahh.

Old & new and bright red, too!

I’d stop by the old barn and make a few new friends.

too scared… not coming closer

this one was braver than most.

2 – count ’em – 2 babies to feed

I’d meander on over to Dad’s workshop and stand for a moment, feeling like he could walk in humming a tune at any time now.

… right where he left things

I’d marvel at the original family homestead and wonder about how cold those Saskatchewan winters must have been in this house.

imagine wintering in this?

Later, after supper was done and I had Mom tucked into her favorite chair, sometimes, sometimes I’d slip out once more and find myself in the golden hour. (And yes, I thought of you, Dianna ),

.. we used to pretend-drive in this

and play “Cops & Indians” out here .. on horseback ..

and then, then I’d make my way back to the farmyard, winding East, and notice how a golden sun happened to bathe a golden horse.

.. heavenly

Quickly, the sky would change and a shiver would sneak up my arms.  I’d take one last peek West and say “so long” to the sun.

one of God’s many paintings

And the next day, I’d get up and do it all over again.

“Then I discovered the prairie, and a slow healing began.” – Stephen R. Jones, The Last Prairie

Categories: Attitude, Beauty, Home, Joy, Life, Personal, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 50 Comments

Hope rising

Land of living skies; an emjayandthem photo

Have you ever noticed that while everything around you changes and churns, our sky is always there?

Oh yes, it’s ever moving, especially those prairie skies I remember from days of old.

I found this photo by accident; digging through photos of our soon-to-be-graduate, this one appeared.

It gave me pause.

I stopped what I was doing and, for a time, I was transported.

Once again, I smelled wild sage and marveled at the scars prairie schooners had left in the hillside.  Mica crumbled between my fingertips and I gasped remembering the feeling of ancient arrowheads scratching my skin as I stuffed them into my Levis.

When you find yourself overwhelmed or stressed, do what I do:  Look up.

Look up at our shared sky and dare yourself not to be filled with wonder.

Dare yourself not to be transported.

Dare yourself not to feel hope rising.

Categories: Beauty, Home, Life, Personal, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 39 Comments

My love affair with the sky

image from canada-maps.org

Growing up with the Northern Lights dancing over us, I assumed everyone carried on a love affair with the sky.

I soon learned that not every place I’d live would afford an easy view of the horizon.

I soon learned that not everyone’s sky was painted like mine.

When my father died, and I was on a plane headed home, I remember the pilot announcing how we’d just crossed into Canadian airspace.  I leaned into my window and spotted something in the distance.  A smile touched my lips when I realized what was with me: the Northern lights … twinkling and a-winkin’, as if to say, “Welcome home, girl.”

It was that very moment – when my emotions were the most raw – that I was given another example of how we are never really …  all alone.

image from apod.nasa.gov

Categories: Beauty, Faith, Family, Life, Personal, Thoughts | Tags: , , , | 18 Comments

Who has seen the wind?

Grandpa F's old red barn; a Lisa Birch photo

I love the wind. It reminds me of my childhood home, our family farm on the Saskatchewan prairie.

I could never, ever live in the woods; I get claustrophobic when I can’t see the horizon.

I delight in a summer breeze drifting lazily across my skin and embrace it when it fiercely pushes my hair straight back from my face.

Even on wintry days when the wind is more a foe than a friend, I respect it. I step back as it blasts snow back at us, whips leaves through the yard, and howls above me in the cold, starless sky.

There’s a book I adore and I’m sharing here: “If you’re not from the prairie ….” by David Bouchard

“…My hair’s mostly wind,
My eyes filled with grit

My skin’s white then brown
My lips chapped and split

I’ve lain on the prairie and heard grasses sigh
I’ve stared at the vast open bowl of the sky

I’ve seen all the castles and faces in clouds
My home is the prairie and for that I am proud…

If You’re not from the Prairie, you can’t know my soul
You don’t know our blizzards; you’ve not fought our cold

You can’t know my mind, nor ever my heart
Unless deep within you there’s somehow a part…

A part of these things that I’ve said that I know,
The wind, sky and earth, the storms and the snow.

Best say that you have – and then we’ll be one,
For we will have shared that same blazing sun.

for more please visit: http://www.davidbouchard.com/titles/prairie.htm

Categories: Beauty, Family, Gratitude, Home, Life, Opinion, Personal, Share, Thoughts, Travel, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | 8 Comments

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Better Days Blog

Learning from yesterday, living for today

Another Stir of the Spoon

Food, Art, Books, Birds and whatever...

Connie Rosser Riddle

Connecting with People in My Path

Atypical 60

A Typical Blog. A Typical Woman. A Typical Take On Life. With An Atypical Twist!

Life Write Here

“I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say.”

Virginia Views

Country Living for Beginners

Views and Mews by Coffee Kat

Kate's views on life edited by four opinionated cats

Renee Johnson Writes

Novelist, Traveler, and More

Life Is A Journey... Not A Guided Tour

My Journey From Merchant Mariner to Mother, and Spiritual Being.

notquiteold

Nancy Roman

She's A Maineiac

just another plaid-wearin' java-sippin' girl

I also live on a farm

Just another WordPress.com weblog

Wordsmith's Desk

some thoughts along the way

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

music, poetry, musings, photography and philosophy from a woman who found her way back home and wants you to come over for a hike and a cocktail.

these days of mine

Stop in and see what's happening during these days of mine

When I Ride...

How life coaches me as I ride...

RICH RIPLEY

EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS...