Birds sing. Spell songs and listen. Quiet pause. Takes a fresh breath. Receives a reply. So much to say on a winter’s day. No time to be sad, but glad that there is someone that understands love.
Yes, I agree. Readers have their own grief, their own hope. The details of mine might be redundant. Thanks, Mark, for phinding time to read phrom the notebook at 🌿LEAVES.
"Our mingled breath is visible in the frosted air" - I really like that, Sharron. I wonder what has happened. The birds echo our sentiments. A perfect read for this overcast and still winter morning.
The pale sun allows us to grieve. The cold dark season holds such feelings in the light of day. The summer sun is too full of itself to allow sadness. "There's work to be done. Get up!"
I enjoyed your reading of this tone poem. And thank you for the songbirds. Every now and then, I hear the hermit thrush ring its metalic voice across the land.
My three favorite bird songs. I often have a gold-crowned sparrow in my myrtle tree. I walk down to the arroyo to hear the doves. I've never seen or heard the hermit thrush anywhere close by -- only in the forests where they are invisible but heard.
If I recall correctly, the first time I heard a Hermit Thrush was up in Boulder Creek. It was the strangest sound I've ever heard a bird make. Like scraping a nail down a metal pipe. And I think red-winged black birds make a similar sound. Birds are amazing.
Also, I'm reading Amy Tan's wonderful book, The Backyard Bird Chronicles, these days. (I read slow, so it's going to take awhile). She drew the birds who visited her feeders and wrote descriptions of their appearances, behavior, and social interactions. Quite a fun tome to read in comfortable little bits between the chores and Substacks.
Sun is bright here. About to be below 0 tonight and all week. Not being sad about it but rmembering to leave the kitchen sink running. I'm at the end of one water run (1,2&3), Trina on the other (10 to 4). She knows about frozen pipes but works nights so can forget. Waterfall over the bed would be a sharp reminder that sad does have a place.
Sadness over loss can't be shared. It just prolongs it. There's enough coming up that it'd just be one long sad. Have at it and be done.
I love the image of the 'mingled breath'...'visible in the frosted air' - very atmospheric setting Sharron, which reflects well the emotional undertones - spellbound.
I wonder what it is that they grieve yet at the same time I realize that this is a private moment. I love the imagery in this one and what is left unsaid. Wonderful, Sharron.
Yes, this may be one of those fill-in-the-blanks stories. I wager most of us have grieved and been saved by love at sometime in our lives. Nice to. hear from you, Jim. I hope you are all well. Is hurricane season over for another year?
Birds sing. Spell songs and listen. Quiet pause. Takes a fresh breath. Receives a reply. So much to say on a winter’s day. No time to be sad, but glad that there is someone that understands love.
Thank you, Richard. For everything, there is a season.
Especially sweet. You sure captured the moment exquisitely.
Thank you, my friend.
Really love this. Hit just the right spot this morning. Thank you.
Thank you, sir! Melancholy and hope. A common combination at the beginning of a new year.
Sharron, you said a lot in those 100 words. Loved this little snapshot of a story and 'broomy trees' is a keeper. Thanks for sharing. - Jim
Thank for reading, Jim. I am always honored when you stop by 🌿LEAVES.
How poignant - and hopeful, perhaps - that there is that someone.
The beginning of a new year -- a good time to acknowledge both our sadness and our optimism. Thank you, Janice
Beautiful. There is obviously more to this story and sometimes it is wise to leave it unsaid.
Yes, I agree. Readers have their own grief, their own hope. The details of mine might be redundant. Thanks, Mark, for phinding time to read phrom the notebook at 🌿LEAVES.
"Our mingled breath is visible in the frosted air" - I really like that, Sharron. I wonder what has happened. The birds echo our sentiments. A perfect read for this overcast and still winter morning.
It is a glorious Saturday morning here on the Monterey Bay and all is well. I am glad you liked my little bird-full story, my friend.
Thank you Sharron for this gorgeous meditation! I am so, so honored ❤️
A beautifully evocative photo. You have such an eye. If I saw a display of 10 photos, I would recognize immediately which one was by Sheila Moeschen.
Awww!! Sharron!! You’re making it REAL DUSTY up in here!! I’m so grateful for all your encouragement and inspiration ✌🏼💗
The pale sun allows us to grieve. The cold dark season holds such feelings in the light of day. The summer sun is too full of itself to allow sadness. "There's work to be done. Get up!"
I enjoyed your reading of this tone poem. And thank you for the songbirds. Every now and then, I hear the hermit thrush ring its metalic voice across the land.
My three favorite bird songs. I often have a gold-crowned sparrow in my myrtle tree. I walk down to the arroyo to hear the doves. I've never seen or heard the hermit thrush anywhere close by -- only in the forests where they are invisible but heard.
If I recall correctly, the first time I heard a Hermit Thrush was up in Boulder Creek. It was the strangest sound I've ever heard a bird make. Like scraping a nail down a metal pipe. And I think red-winged black birds make a similar sound. Birds are amazing.
Also, I'm reading Amy Tan's wonderful book, The Backyard Bird Chronicles, these days. (I read slow, so it's going to take awhile). She drew the birds who visited her feeders and wrote descriptions of their appearances, behavior, and social interactions. Quite a fun tome to read in comfortable little bits between the chores and Substacks.
Sounds beautiful.
Sun is bright here. About to be below 0 tonight and all week. Not being sad about it but rmembering to leave the kitchen sink running. I'm at the end of one water run (1,2&3), Trina on the other (10 to 4). She knows about frozen pipes but works nights so can forget. Waterfall over the bed would be a sharp reminder that sad does have a place.
Sadness over loss can't be shared. It just prolongs it. There's enough coming up that it'd just be one long sad. Have at it and be done.
Thank you Kate. You have put a lot of thought into this. I always look forward to your comments, girl.
Classes typed out get lots of thought and edits. Opinions just fall off my fingers.
Hugses on ya Lady. Keep that pencil sharp. ))
Caught in that spell, right there. Beautiful, Sharron
Winter doldrums. Thanks, Barrie, for sitting on the bench with me.
I had my scarf and hat on 🥶
How wonderful to find beauty and joy in the midst of sorrow. I particularly liked this original description of the trees: "the bare and broomy trees".
Thank you. KC. Call me a dreamer, but I like to think that love wins.
I love the image of the 'mingled breath'...'visible in the frosted air' - very atmospheric setting Sharron, which reflects well the emotional undertones - spellbound.
Thank you, Conor. Your writing this week, "Lies", was brilliant. There are always several layers in your stories.
Thanks Sharron - I was just following the muse!
Such a beautiful story with a sweet sentiment, Sharron. It’s lovely!
Thank you, Justin
I wonder what it is that they grieve yet at the same time I realize that this is a private moment. I love the imagery in this one and what is left unsaid. Wonderful, Sharron.
Yes, this may be one of those fill-in-the-blanks stories. I wager most of us have grieved and been saved by love at sometime in our lives. Nice to. hear from you, Jim. I hope you are all well. Is hurricane season over for another year?
I really loved the tone and the mood of it. All is well here. I will send you an email tomorrow or Tuesday. Need your opinion if you're willing.
Always willing!
Winter has many moods you have elicited a poetic one touching my heart.
Brrrr! Thank you!