This night was crystal-clear; so strongly bathed in moonlight; every ripple in the waters of the creek was sharply visible, and every leaf on every tree ... There was no cloud or rising mist to veil any sharp detail ... I couldn't sleep; I couldn't flip a switch to mute the brightness ...

And I couldn't bear to close the drapes against the beauty ...

SUMMER IN A TREE ...

 "A favorite memory of summer from my 

childhood is climbing up into a spread-armed

 maple tree where none could see me hidden

 in the thickness of the leaves.

 And in that coolness, privacy and peace, I 

would read.

An August never passes but what that 

memory revisits me." ~~Rose Moore

HOT JULY MORNING, 2020...

    Good morning! A joyful little wren sits on one of my wind chimes singing his heart out. It's incredibly blue in the sky, with not a bit of cloud or breeze...

    After watering my gardens and doing a bit of work with the hoe, I'm relaxing on the porch with my first morning coffee, enjoying it all before this muggy Monday reaches its prediction for un-breathable air and white-hot temps.

    And that, my friends, will be a good time for an AIR-CONDITIONED SIESTA!

MY BEAUTIFUL JULY OHIO ...

Despite the need for rain, these recent days have loveliness...

Blue skies rise along horizons lined with all the drama of a multiplicity of stacked white clouds that bear the look of mesas, buttes and western rock formations...

Freshening breezes gently sway the trees against the sky, like lazy brooms...
 
Birds of local species soar and sing along our rolling hills and valleys...

Flowers make our homestead gardens festive, and wildflowers add their sturdy colors to the roadsides ant the open pastures...

That and more! My northeast Ohio at its best!

WHEN MY SPIRIT NEEDS RESTORING, I TAKE A LITTLE RIDE THROUGH SUMMERTIME OHIO!

THE CREEK CAN BRING PEACE ...

   Oh the peace of June mornings. I sometimes step onto the broad path at the edge of the woods that lead down to the barn. 
   Here the woodland is greatly softened by a lush understory of greenery, and I can sit on a bench or stand and admire the thickness of tree trunks that rise like dark Druids around me. 
   It's quiet here too at the end of the day, and I remember how my Bob used to like sitting then on a small concrete bench, watching the sunset reflect its colors into the upstream waters of the creek. 
   Nothing brought more peace to his spirit then sitting there for awhile, he would tell me, and I share that feeling.   

    After quiet time at the creek, I stroll back to the house, more than ready for the easy sleep that will prepare me for tomorrow. 
     And so, goodnight to all; I will be rising at dawn, as I usually do, to greet the new day.

REQUIEM FOR A WOOD THRUSH ...

MR. WOOD THRUSH WITH HIS SPRING-TIME NESTLINGS

        This is the first time you have been around my house and woodland. I've loved you since the first I heard your song. It echoed so melodious and rich throughout the valley as I walked to watch the sun rise.

      At first I couldn't spot you, then I realized you sang from the very top of the tall tree I often lean on as I watch the rising sun. Some people have said you have the finest voice among the songbirds; now I say that too.

         You greeted me with song at sunrise and again at sunset, every day. One morning I watched as you and the resident wren---who lives on my porch rent-free---foraged on opposite ends of my porch-side garden. And then you two engaged in your own spirited avian version of "Dueling Voices." I enjoyed that!

         Yesterday you flew so fast down from your tree-top to my porch; you collided hard; and you lay very still, I lifted you to a shady corner of the porch, in case you would come to. But no ...

         I will miss you and your songs. For me, your visit was a rare one, and if I never host another wood thrush, I'll remember and appreciate your visit.