“Child of trees, when your father taught you to smell the pines  so that you could name them, you learned to breathe in a knowing beyond words.  Hold the sweet aroma a little longer;
let it soften the landscape of your heart.  Amen to the long breath.”—Author unknown

Opening reflection chosen and read by Amy W.

Photos by Sue J.

This chilly morning, I sought only places in the meadow offering the sun’s direct warmth.  I stood near live oaks, a cypress, a fir.  Just putting myself in pause mode, noticing, I became aware of the presence of those sharing the places with me.  Red-tailed hawk circled overhead, red-headed woodpecker hopped from possibility to possibility, red-breasted robin flew back and forth from ground to limb.  Others arrived from away: blue jay, finch, chickadee, blackbird, towhee, titmouse. Crow broke the silence for a bit.  I walked on toward a wooden fence, welcoming the cold freshness that stung my nostrils.  At first I only heard bluebird’s song, then he streaked in front of me, landing atop one of the fenceposts.  In seconds, two, three more bluebirds each found a sunny perch on the top rail.  I could barely breathe before this bounty!  I stayed until they all flew off to far branches.  

And as I walked back to our gathering, I couldn’t help smiling.  And I couldn’t help thinking:

they didn’t know my name, wonder what they’d call me?  “Sister,” I said aloud, hopefully.

Photos and reflection by Amy W.

The reading encouraged us to close our eyes and breathe in deeply- our sense of smell is the most primitive of our senses and the last to go when we are dying. Smell- it can attract or repel- fragrance or odor- the gardens were alive with smells on Saturday. I enjoyed standing and inhaling deeply…loved the cypress root shaped like a bird! I would have missed that if I hadn’t paused to breathe in deeply and wait…

Photos and reflection by Bonnie L.