Magical Monday

Misty sunrise

When we are alone on a starlit night, when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children, when we know love in our hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet, Basho, we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash — at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the “newness,” the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, all these provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance.

~ Thomas Merton

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Spun gold

Draped in gold

This was not a good morning to sleep in.  If I had slept in, I would have missed the fog and the early morning sunlight shining on the dew in the meadows, turning the spider webs into spun gold.  Even Rumplestiltskin couldn’t have done it better.

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Scenes from a foggy morning

The ladder-trellis (we’re using to grow hops) at sunrise.

The photos I’m using in this post were taken last Friday around sunrise.  Fog was drifting over and around the pond, and the light was simply wonderful.

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364: Misty morning

I was up and out early this morning, taking another barefoot walk through the dewy grass.  Although it is still technically summer, the autumn mists seem to have settled in as our morning greeter.

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