Tuesday, December 8, 2009


Bare feet feel the crunching cold , my weight bending and crushing as they chase the dog around the yard.

The bones of our street greet my sigh into coffee steam.

The promise of what will be. The hanging onto . The never want to leave.

A just barely first snow teases out damp shivering. The columnar oak hums a delicate rustling, and I wonder if I could rub and crush it's copper brown leaves. It's a conical dried evergreen that 's not of course. Unless you see what could be. What stays with whispering seemingly impossible.

I think of prancing back out there, squinting eyes against the sharp spray. I think of stripping off quivering leaves , rubbing and crumbling a powder of fine life is beautiful essence.

What blustery blackness ahead might need a pinch of the gifts we can't see magic?

** this post is shared at Chatting at the Sky , for the Tuesdays Unwrapped series. It is always a good thing to learn to see. To receive the seemingly impossible.


and if you aren't aware of my other blog, might I prompt a visit. I 'd like to share my Hope for Advent series, and encourage you to think a little differently about the meaning of the Christmas season, or let me know how you approach it with true intention.

As my Day 2 post of community , I'd like to give a huge hug to Claire . Her blog, my memoir of you, was one of the first I ever visited. I've continually been awed and quieted and inspired by not only her photography, writing, thoughts, and heart, but by the authentic beautiful joy she radiates from herself, finds in others, in all that is around her , and all that is sacred and mysterious. Thank you, Claire .



  1. I wait for your garden poetry like people wait for rain. Today I'm putting "A columnar oak hums a delicate rustling" on my bulletin board.

    And I love the idea of storing up beauty against the dark days.

  2. I love Claire's place too. It feels like that sometimes, yes? Like we are visiting places, real, very.

  3. Deb this made me cry. There were moments in today when I felt truly insignificant and finding this in my inbox was a gift from you and also from Him.

    Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

    Your words have never failed to stir thoughts and new ideas in my heart...

  4. What a beautiful post! Just after I finished berating the darkness in the house. Thank you!


  5. i've missed you, deb. as i clicked on "green acres" i got giddy and nestled in all at the same time. i knew i was in for a treat as i read, "bare feet feel the crunching cold" and on and on. what a gift it is for us to be listeners who take in the eloquence of your words. tell me you are published somewhere...right?!?

  6. Beautiful verse for this time of year, right before winter settles in.

  7. Kathleen ~ I can't tell you how much that means to me... seriously.

    Claire ~ you are very very welcome

    Deborah ~ thank you, I was so glad for this, as today everything has suffered from heavy slush and freezing rain.

    Melissa ~ I'm published by Kathleen above :) You encourage me so much. Thank you. And I'm happy for you and your new business. Doing what we love is such a privilege.

    Joanne ~ thank you, I prefer outdoors to in any time .

    Bethany ~ you're welcome.

  8. Thank-you for stopping by my blog, Deb and for you warm comment. Through your profile, I read you feel very connected to your grandmother as well?

    Do you walk around the yard with your coffee cup in hand? It sounds as if you do. I do the same thing with a cup of tea. I like your garden poem.

  9. Oh , I walk and stare and relish. I get to work in other peoples gardens, so that is a blessing as well.
    I do feel connected to my grandmother , but in the way that we wish to have gotten to know someone before they passed away. Older , wiser, and realizing I could have had my own relationship with someone who I've come to learn was very similar to me. But family is complicated.
    I'm looking forward to the hectic season giving me more time to read so many new blogs... yours included. I have 2, and it is confusing.