Daughters

As I look at the website each of my daughters has, I reflect upon them and their work with such pride. Both are making significant, culture-affecting contributions in a society that lends little support to such efforts. I applaud their imagination, courage, compasson, sense of justice, perseverance, and talent. How lucky I have been.

Showing Itself

The red fox has reappeared, visible against the white, white snow. It comes from the woods, cautiously, to the shady pond, then quickly across the open space. It crosses the driveway and then bounds into the woods again.
I welcome the fox.

Montezuma's Castle

We have the power to rethink our existence, our time in earth's embrace, and step forward with compassionate intelligence. If we align ourselves with the spirit of the place, we will find humility infused with joy.
Pieces of White Shell: a journey to Navajoland, Terry Tempest Williams

Sycamore at the Castle

The Path at the Castle

The path at the base of Montezuma's Castle is lined by sycamore trees with their beautiful curving branches.
"Let beauty walk before me. Let beauty walk behind me. Let beauty walk all around me. In beauty it is finished." Navajo

Paine's Creek, Brewster

Out of the tidal world that keeps rushing in and out below our house, out of the clouds in their endless transformations and the trees that hold the wind, come messages that could illuminate my existence.
John Hay, A Beginner's Faith in Things Unseen

The book fell open to this page

The people along the sand
All turn and look one way.
They turn their back on the land.
They look at the sea all day.

As long as it takes to pass
A ship keeps raising its hull;
The wetter ground like glass
Reflects a standing gull!

The land may vary more;
But wherever the truth may be-
The water comes ashore,
And the people look at the sea.

They cannot look out far,
They cannot look in deep,
But when was that ever a bar
To any watch they keep?

Neither Out Far Nor In Deep, Robert Frost

River Tidings, Fall 2006

There is so much I wish I knew, so much of myself that is missing in my cumbersome old age. But all I need is a little visitor like this elegant little plover, dancing along the edge of the iridescent tidewaters, to draw me into another realm that widens my world and deepens my awe over nature's mysteries. Move in, I whisper: I am late in coming.
John Hay
Given to me from Sue Carr, Cape Cod Museum of Natural History