At dusk, I picked all the pears that I could reach.
Last night, the first hard frost.
Today, the air is crisp, the sky cool blue, paled by wispy clouds.
Yesterday, white, blue, and steel grey swirled,
animating the sky, hurrying, destination uncertain.
From across the valley, lumpy snow squalled from the mix,
sifting through cloud gaps like a sheer curtain
eased through an open kitchen window
by a bland summer breeze.
And I remember Eli telling me that an old timer told him:
“In these parts, you have to have as much as you need done for winter by mid-October
…after then, anything can happen “
The cool wet spring turned to Summer on 21 June. Since then, the days have been warm and dry, with very little rain.
The weather for the Fourth of July was stereotypically seasonable; hazy hot, and humid – the hottest spell of the year so far.
Many of us passed the days with music, friends and family.
Agreeable weather also obliges portions of days be spent in fields.
Winter started on schedule this year, settled in comfortably, and kept it’s grip. And now, again as if on schedule, the three foot snowpack diminished, making it’s own way to swell streams.
The geese fly overhead, and the first tremblings of Spring growth reveal themselves.
The incarnation of the Hill Dog transits our lives.
In her wake we are,
Kinder to each other,
Richer in love,
Stronger in faith,
Brighter in spirit.
It’s a beautiful first day of May and the 10th Anniversary of Hill View. As we reflect on the first 10 years and gaze into the future, we send our thanks and appreciation to the clients and friends who have placed their trust in us.
Joy, Peace, Love, Respect
Live it… everyday
A dry, pale, season it seemed at first.
Subtle colors seeped slowly to a vibrant burst.
Evidenced today, this peak,
Autumns’ climax lasts a week.
Harvest Time Joy
Mother Nature and her merry makers’ moon shadows play across water and sand.
Mating with the wind, the ancient common fire spirals loosely, dancing starward.
Rising close, the harvest moon, swollen and bright, watches all from beyond the nearby pines.
On the shore, backs to the dark, eyes roll back, necks lengthen, mouths posture.
Hill Dog’s chorused howl travels the night.
Tom’s horses are in the back yard again,
anxiously awaiting him and Sheila
to come and feed them apples.