A Day Bathed in Sunlight


May your love be firm,
and may your dream of life together
be a river between two shores—
by day bathed in sunlight, and by night
illuminated from within. May the heron
carry news of you to the heavens, and the salmon bring
the sea’s blue grace. May your twin thoughts
spiral upward like leafy vines,
like fiddle strings in the wind,
and be as noble as the Douglas fir.
May you never find yourselves back to back
without love pulling you around
into each other’s arms.
~James Bertolino “Wedding Toast” from Ravenous Bliss

photo by Karen Mullen
photo by Karen Mullen

It was a late June day predicted to be bathed in sunlight with a few clouds, and it ended up a day bathed solely in God’s own light, with cloudy skies, scant sun and a few showers, some from the sky and some from the eyes who witnessed your promised covenant to one another.

May you journey together on a road that reaches to infinity, with no bridges out, or deep ditches to fall into, or trees fallen, barring the path. There may be rough patches, and a fair amount of mud along the way, but always keep the horizon in focus.

May you find each other’s arms when you need them and give yourselves in service to the world when you are able.

And may you always remember your beginnings, next to the noble Douglas fir on a hill, where God in heaven smiled His Light down upon you through teary clouds.

photo by Karen Mullen
photo by Karen Mullen

The Alleviation of Dawn

foggymorning927173

 

For what human ill does not dawn seem to be an alleviation?
~Thornton Wilder

 

foggymorning927171

 

Early fall mornings often begin obscured – the low fog clings to the moist ground,  creating a muted reality of muffled sound and distorted distance.

My head feels just like this when I first wake.  I struggle to shake loose of cloudiness and clear my vision so I can take on the day.

Clarity doesn’t come from within.

The dawn burns off the fog, renders and refines landscape colors, separates light from shadow.  I too must become part of the solution instead of clouded with precipitate.

 

foggymorning927175

 

sunrisesnowcap

 

Financial Support for the Barnstorming Blog from our Readers

Your financial support helps to keep this blog an ad-free daily offering. Your contribution of any amount is encouragement to me and deeply appreciated.

$10.00

 

 

 

 

Long and Wondrous Journey

cloudy9172

cloudy9173

Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,
what joy
to come falling
out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again
in a new way
on the earth!
That’s what it said
as it dropped,
smelling of iron,
and vanished
like a dream of the ocean
into the branches
and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing
under a tree.
The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,
and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment
my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars
and the soft rain –
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.
~Mary Oliver

sunset831141

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

Reckless Blooming

“Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.”
Rainer Maria Rilke

A rainy summer yields abundant shade-loving blossoms.   Continuous cloud cover and plenty of moisture may subdue a summer mood but not in the case of begonias, fuchsia, and impatiens.  Their vivid colors are happily chanting playground rhymes, when not singing arias, reciting epic poetry, and laughing uproariously while partying hardy into the night.

If they were fragrance instead of colors, they would be a perfume shop full of perfectly coiffed matrons who trail scents behind them.  If they were tactile instead of colors, they would be plush velveteen cushions topped with purring cats with switching tails.   If they were taste instead of colors, they would be spice and pepper-hot to the point of tears.

Their reckless blooming abandon is enough in itself to make me weep, without noisy parties,  chilis, heavy scents, or ruffled cat fur needed.

No sun required.  No tropical temperatures.  No promise of 18 hours of daylight.

They simply have enough of what they need to give all they’ve got.   All I need to do is show up, open my eyes and believe.