Flowers in the Forest , Wonderful Words of Life...

All our various and sundry ramblings here at Hoot Owl Karma could be interpreted as attempts to express our gratitude for life; 

life, as it exists in the natural world;

life, in all its amazing and wonderful iterations;

life, a mysterious and priceless gift, 

source of beauty and joy and wonder and hope...

Life reasserts itself in the early spring forest, as tender new leaves of freshest green 

suddenly appear among acres of accumulated castaways, all lifeless and brown;

miraculously arising early of a frosty morn,

offshoot of rhizomes no longer latent, 

and joined no less quickly by a bud-bearing stalk, 

eager to expose its single golden blossom.

And not a moment too soon, it blooms,

as the winged pollinator appears right on cue,

flying from shadowy nook to sun-kissed cranny, 

sharing golden grains of pollen among the many members of this lovely forest-dwelling clan.

And we bear witness, 

long-lost children of the forest ourselves;

greeting the morning sun with our old friends Hepatica and Erythronium,
here beneath the towering canopy of the trees;

though our steps so seldom tread these shadowy recesses of our not-too-distant past,

we often find ourselves fumbling for just the right words

to express the emotions these moments evoke...

and when,
or if, 

we find the words,

chances are good they're nothing new or original.

But rather, familiar words for a while forgotten, 

and just now remembered...

Words resurrected from childhood adventures in the neighbor's wood, 

and the marvelous tales they spawned, or

Words, perhaps, from a favorite hymn, residing seldom-sung somewhere near your heart,

"Sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life;
Let me more of their beauty see, wonderful words of life;
Words of life and beauty, teach me faith and duty;
Beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life..."

Wonderful words of life, and our precious place in it,
pondered in the silence of the forest path,
poised on the cusp of another spring...

Winter Plumage

January is feather weather in these parts.

Nature at her most innovative and clever...

insulation, transportation, courtship and camouflage.

Feathers...

so simple,

so sublime.

From Chapel Hill to Mattamuskeet and back home to Sanford, 

January wears winter plumage.

Whether it's winter number one, 

or you've weathered a good many more;

perched neath skies of brightest blue, 

or foraging in beads of glittering cold,

our feathered friends beg us pause

to consider

the glorious gift that is winter...

And a splendid gift it is, 

wrapped in winter plumage.