Author Archives: Catherine Audette

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There's nothing quite like watching Ravens in flight. In my neighborhood, these avian masters take their role on the hill quite seriously, commandeering their landscape with agility.
On a recent day, I spied them overhead, in the task of learning graceful new tricks of exceptional daring.

I was so entranced that I forgot to take a photo, though I watched for over a half hour.
Maybe the sight captivates me, because I remember having those wings myself, in some other time, in some other form. Or maybe I watch in awe because I remember the physical sensation of the breeze under my wings, the joy of multi-dimensional planes of movement, the ability to simply rise in freedom. In this form, transfering from land dweller to the sky happened without thought, and with simply an exhale. Maybe this remembrance of flying returns to us, to a time past, when we flew with the Angels.

The path I took that day echoed with the freshly fallen snow. The day blew windy and cold from a new arctic front; the trees stood stark and dark against the deep blue sky. When I saw this wild blue sky day, I felt called to explore the snowy paths in the woods. The Ravens, when they saw this same blue-sky day, they felt the call to take flight. And fly they did, rising effortlessly to greet the elements of the wind, sun, and trees.

While flying, they called to each other loudly, demonstrating their skills of twirling, and tumbling through the air. Twisting, turning, and tango-ing with and over each other in glee. The chatty ravens shared the air ecumenically. Not letting anyone leader speak louder than the other. They are experienced collaborators on this hill. Not competitors. Laughing in the wind, to the wind, to me, to each other. They rise, float, and shift easily in the wind that gusted up to 40 mph. To them, a windy winter day came as a gift of from heaven. I always feel pure awe while watching flying lessons in progress.

At first, I spied them between the tree limbs, when I only saw three in flight, floating effortlessly. Soon, another group came in view, and a total of seven calling ravens rose and fell in patterns that suited their heart's joy of the moment. They appeared to be practicing skills that maybe they had learned in lighter winds. At times, they flew wing to wing. At other times, without notice, one or two would gracefully branch off to some unknown point of interest, only to quickly rejoin overhead, making new configurations and matching in new spirals of infinity. They laughed as they played with one another. Today, the ravens clearly loved the flying conditions, as though the gusting winds offer a special challenge for their balance, prowess and sentience.

My spectatorship was active in the woods, as I had to move from left to right and back to be able to see their antics as they climbed up, down and over the trees.

I wonder if these are the siblings born a few years ago, who once moved through the woods like restless teenagers. I wonder if the ones I see are teaching younger cousins their daring antics. Or maybe they are parents teaching new fledglings the tricks of the hill. Whoever they be, they have become congenial, graceful, gentle flying coaches modeling perfect harmony in flight.

Incidentally, they knew I was there. Whenever I returned to walk forward on my path, they chortled, making make ever wider circles, to include me in their view. I laughed to hear them discuss matters of such altitude. Concerns of the higher realms, while I remained grounded beneath the leafless landscape, with the trees who bent and bowed in the wings of the wind. My path led to the hill top where, maybe I could see a new vista from a relatively higher altitude. Their vistas must have been tremendous. Their joy was infectious. I felt intimacy with their joy.

If I could, I would continue this conversation, and share in their joy. So, I offer a prayer to them here:

Dear Dear Raven, I promise to remember flying with joy, and to sing with laughter,
I promise to imagine the views from higher perspective.
And I promise to you, to keep communicating with you as a neighbor on this hill,
and to keep my heart open to the winds that blow strong and clear even on cold winter days.

The winds do blow stronger now, reasserting themselves and the sense of winter, after the brief reprieve. And yet... And yet, I feel something has shifted. I feel a new spark in the air.
The sense of wind working hard to reassert control, the sense the sun, which is both a tad higher in the sky and lingers a little longer with us each day bring with it a greater sense of light. I also sense the waters rising in the earth to feed the creeks below the snow's surface. I hear the sounds of the gentle birds tentatively try out their new mating songs. A new day is dawning.

~*~

A postscript: This morning, after writing the above piece, I saw a special gift. When I went out early to feed the birds, dawn was just growing. I do this often, and it is quite peaceful. As I finished spreading the seed, I heard the whoosh-whoosh, whoosh of large wings overhead. I looked up to discover, not a few, not 12, but 22 ravens flying directly overhead! They flew strong and clear, directly East.
Twenty-two of these masters in flight! Together in company of each other as family. Twenty-two, a number associated with both mastery, and with Avatar consciousness. These are not small synchronicities, or coincidences. But momentous signs. The woods are waking, the year arriving with mastery.
Blessings to you

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The rains brought a blanket of warmth, relaxing our nervous systems, inviting the soft animal within to receive waters of nourishment. After a season of unusual bitter cold, this warmth and moisture brought similar to a feeling of annointing. This annointment comes from the stars of old bringing in new light to see in the dark

The clouds brought in this song of water, sprinkling it here and there, left and right, spraying us as if from an censor or aspergil spreading the rites of extra new moon darkness.

In this new moon baptism, the old stories, wounds, and paths are washed away. Hushing our fears, quieting our nerves, nourishing our souls in time for the coming day of December Solstice.

Now, Solstice arrives, the time when the sun stands still and the light is reborn, our souls give birth to new miracles of gentleness, possibility. What miracle are you birthing this season? What is your heart dreaming?

Let the light that is returning now, fill you with hope and expectation of joy. Let it lift you. Let the rains from the cosmos nourish you.

Feel into the winds that blow in the change, feel into the clouds that cover us with grace, feel into the waves that tickle you, feel into your now. Be one with yourself. And simply let what is left here now, Be

Much love

Blessings on your solstice emerging light

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The leaves linger high on the trees, mostly on the oak trees. Even after a grand wind storm, like the one we had recently, I can still spy a few leaves up high here and there. In their gentle rustlings, I hear them laughing as they discuss the latest news with the passing season's breezes. They call to me to be outside with them, to enjoy the passing of this time, and not to shrink away from the deepening cold.

The colors that were once gold and red, with hints of green, under a canopy of burnished gold have subdued into the browns of late Fall. Earlier this year, the greens low, mixing with the gold and red high in the canopy created an impression of glowing light. A Glow that suffused the forest. Now, the eye finds burnished reds, coppers and browns below, all layering the earth with a cozy blanket of remembering for winter dreams. The ground is a mosaic of conversations, ones that were once held high above our heads.

The winter birds have moved in too. They are robust, courageous, fast, flying in for food on frosty mornings and chatty. Chirping happily, as they glean from the late summer windfalls, diving in and around the larger birds who voraciously, gulp down their seeds. No one but the squirrel lingers long.

Today, I have found a window of spaciousness, letting me sit quietly with the birds. Together, we revel in the afternoon sun. My seat, in the sun, is removed enough from activities to provide the space they need.

I have brought two chairs out with me to share in the luxury. open for possible guests from Spirit. They may like to sit and marvel with us in the magic of a warm afternoon. Elementals, angels and other beloved ones may join as they please. These are seats of honor in the garden of Fall warmth. I share in the company of gratitude and beauty. Grateful for this magic, I thank the breeze; I share my love with the trees, and wish the birds good health.

The wind moves through from time to time, jostling the trees in the forest, and chiming the notes of rustling leaves, who rustle, sigh and surrasate nearby.

Soon, the bold colors of browns that linger, will also lay down and rest. Soon, the beeches and oaks will relinquish their remaining leaves, offering them like gifts to the breeze, golden notes fluttering to the sky, released before the winter rains, and snows. Guides of the season. For we too have gifts to release. Experiences that have had their story told, and can return to the earth. Stories that made sense for a season and now, seem no longer needed.

I want to create from this abundant beauty that surrounds me in magic today. Trusting the flow of life and the angels that carry me. Blow through me, breeze of magic, like the winds in the trees. Release the old unneeded rhymes, release the old stories of pain and disharmony. Let the spirit grow gentle and peaceful in the coming quiet that winter brings. Quiet as the trees in the deepening night, and the browning of earth.

I hope that you too, dear readers, find moments of quiet and stillness to listen to the breeze, listen to the stars, and listen to the deepening this season brings.

So much love

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The yurt appears to have a new resident. I do like the idea of a house mate, yet the situation is likely to be seasonal.

Living this close to the outdoors, a wide variety of denizens arrive for a visit : spiders (much too big for my comfort, but I am learning,) snakes, skunks, raccoons, bears, and now, this newcomer.

It started sometime around July, when I heard little pattering of feet scampering across the rooftop. It would wake me in the night. Maybe, I thought, a mouse, who had crawled up the walls, has gotten itself stuck, and can't crawl back down. Of course, then, I attempted to be helpful to this small neighbor by placing a long hophornbeam limb (light, and thin,) against the roof. I hoped the mouse would use this beam as a bridge to escape the roof. I envisioned that this creature would go to the edge, then run along down the beam to reach the ground, and then be free. My motives were both altruistic from concern for the health of the mouse, and selfish, from a desire to sleep through the night. But no, around midnight and then again at dawn, the pitter patter of feet would start back up. The escape route was not effective and the running continued.

I felt that a mouse, or a flying squirrel, two animals that frequent the yurt, would surely be able to navigate the impromptu bridge. Perhaps this animal is a baby, and too afraid to climb? I wondered many nights about my visitor/resident.

Eventually, the sound, over the course of a few weeks began to shift from galloping of feet to softer fluttering sounds across the roof top. It began to remind me of the whirr a dragonfly makes when trapped under a plastic tarp. It fluttered across the roof, paused, rested then resumed. Did I hear a high pitch shrill with it too? Could it be.... could this four-legged animal, be a bat?

I began, when I woke, to listen carefully to the sounds from the roof in an attempt to discern its source. It became a mystery that I wished to unlock. The sounds were my only clues. A mystery that still is unsolved.

It sounded to me, as if something was trying to take off from the roof. The sounds came only at night, and one of the waking times was always just before dawn. Scrape, patter, patter, brush brush. Eventually, the sounds did not wake me, nor did I hear them anymore when I awoke early before dawn to check. The mysterious source just disappeared. Did this creature succeed in the undertaking? Did they find freedom and the ability to take flight?

I won't ever know for sure. I will say though, soon after the quieting of my night time sounds, I did happen to notice a family of bats flying overhead. Maybe pure coincidence, and yet Here is what my imagination suggests ... Here is the story I created, one that suits my fancy and sensibility ~ perhaps the yurt has become a host for a family of bats that live on the roof edge. They linger there to raise their babies. I imagine, at dawn they find an edge, on the northside, under the whispering birch and grape vines that hang over the roof, to sleep, until dusk calls them out to hunt once again.

Perhaps the regular sounds corresponded initially, to the regular feeding of babies by a mother. Perhaps all the rustling occurred around or even just after feeding time. Then later when running and rustling, the new one was attempting a running take off. Practicing and practicing and practicing until it actually happened, and flight was accomplished.

I like this story so I researched bats and learned that Mothers continue to suckle babies through July and into August. (That was when I was hearing the scrapping and patterings.) At about 3 weeks, bats are very small and learning to fly. The source said that they can be found "on the ground learning to fly." I guess the yurt roof was the ground where this baby learned to take off.

I frequently see three bats above my head at dusk now. I also read that September through October is mating season. That would explain why I also see one chasing another and chirping at her... The cycle starts over and life continues.

I could stop this post there. Yet, I am clear, that cohabitation is a challenge for all of us humans. We like our "creature comforts." We like our set ways, patterns, habits. The unknown, and the unfamiliar is difficult to accept. When something interferes with our comforts, or infringes on a sense of safety, then we seek change, justice, and for some people sadly, retribution. It is difficult to sit in not knowing, and remain in curiosity. That choice was easy enough for me when the visitor was a bat above me, but I have my limits too. Ones that push my inner knowing to the edge of discomfort.

For example, I certainly feel rather grumpy to the point of inflexibility with the mama mouse who has made a home in my vacuum for her babies. Mice housemates feel one step too close. Perhaps I could learn to co-exist with them though... The sight of the small creatures helps me feel compassion for her hard work. I will pause before deciding to relocate them. I will breathe into my discomfort and allow the challenge. Maybe I can learn to discuss my needs with mama mouse.

Horror, discomfort and sheer revulsion are interesting responses to another being that lives on planet earth. The sheer discomfort we feel at the idea of living together is an opportunity for my self-reflection.

A wise person, once said to me, that it is important to understand the difference between discomfort, and danger. When in danger, take a course of action that creates safety for all. Action that allows us to mutually blossom in the beauty of the garden of Earth.

For now, I pause and breathe into my discomfort and ask for help to find the right path forward that is mutually respectful to their and my needs. This way, we can learn from the mysteries of life and learn to live more peacefully in a world where we will thrive together.

I made a collage, as seen in the top photo, in honor of the beautiful things that the mouse loves to use to make her nest. She is quite sensitive to beauty too.

Information and image on bats from https://www.bats.org.uk/about-bats/a-year-in-the-life-of-a-bat

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Dusk arrives earlier now.
Birds prepare for migration.
My body senses the change.

One night, on my return home, I saw Night Hawks flying overhead. It was a chance moment. I was standing on my doorstep and simply happened to glance up. There they were, in the small window of sky above my garden. Their outline blurring, their colors deepening in the darkening time. There they were, right when the dusk arrived.

What a surprise, and how serendipitous, I thought ~ that I should look up just as they passed over this tiny window of time and space! Yes, maybe, in quantum physics, they were always hovering over my head all along. For me, tonight, their silent flight, made visible by the smallest of chance, felt like a benediction, like the way one feels when one spots a shooting star.

They moved silently and smoothly in a small flock, to the east-northeast. Not south. Not yet. Perhaps they were moving toward the great river, where from there, they can make greater speed South. To that mysterious other home that birds find in our winter.

This moment is an in-between time, the dusk, the almost Autumn. I often wonder where the birds go. Where do they sleep in the winter? Wherever you go, I wish you safe travels, safe rest in your winter homes, and swift return to us, to the abundance of warm summer homes.

I note that until the excitement of a new season stirs my fires, I find myself more easily fearful about change. I find that my belly rumbles and roars, grumbles and grimaces, until some subtle shift occurs. Overnight, I begin to remember the path forward Can be exciting. I find that am almost ready to greet this change in the wind with anticipation of adventure; I am almost ready to embrace the briskness in the air, and the warm coziness of the fire, almost.

I know I am not alone. Change appears to frighten many people, making them roar and grumble. I hope we, as a species can shift our perspective about change, to anticipation of possibility. I hope we can ponder and embrace the energies that are pouring in from the galaxies. Until then, until we evolve, humanity will likely continue to bellow, burp, stumble and stutter.

Before us is a blank slate of possibility. How will I, or you, paint on this new slate? I will ponder about how can I purr with a lovely song through this change

This is A reverent time
A time, filled with light drifting in, sometimes on wooded paths, sometimes through stormy clouds, or at times, through foggy unseen trails. I have been thinking, that the light that helps us for our next step, arrives from within This light shines out like a beacon, helping us make steps that will become the path forward.
While the birds are hearing a call to fly south, I am hearing a deep gong rising from the earth's core, calling us home to ourselves.

Soon wisps of horsetail clouds will spread across the skies, ahead of the winds of early fall. I saw some the other day. They trail behind the animal called Autumn, this animal flies with the hawks, on the winds of change.

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The Sunflower bends to greet the morning sun. From where I sit, she faces away from me this morning, leaning a little as if in anticipation. The companion plant, the mullein, who grew next to her, both volunteers in a garden of onions, remains upright and solid. They await illumination.

There is a young hummingbird at the feeder now. She feeds with gusto and is clearly not sure of the protocols. Sometimes, another female shoos her away. The other adult is frankly very half-hearted about the scolding, not making much fuss about sharing this feeder. Perhaps this is a game for them. Or maybe the somersaults are a training of sorts. Mostly, they have a truce and share the feeder easily - I also think one of them is sitting on eggs. The older one only visits me in the beginning and the end of the day.

In between, I have a wide assortment of other visitors. Many of whom, have not often visited my feeder this summer. Maybe they visited at other times, when I am normally at work. Today, I have devoted the day to sitting on my front doorstep to watch the comings and goings of life in my garden. Here is the log ~

Mourning doves arrive, and who by sheer size, these shy creatures actually subdue the resident chipmunks - no small feat to convince them to share the abundance.

Baby Juncos also fly in, accompanied by parent. Hello, sweet Junco!!! I have not seen you fly here since Spring!

Mama Cardinal also swings by for a quick snack, chirping loudly, as they do.

And Goldfinches too.. But, they did Not scare the chipmunks and therefore, did not dally long. Nor do the chickadees.

I woke early in hopes of hearing the catbird and thrush who have serenaded the forest in the dawn hours until a few weeks ago. Maybe they are quiet now because they sit on nests. I hope so. I listen diligently for the thrush, knowing they will migrate soon, and have heard them in the deep woods. I hope their nests have been successful and their progeny and those of the other birds here in the forest thrive and multiply.
With their presence I feel abundant.

The dragonflies manage the mosquitoes, mostly. The butterflies flock to the flowers. This range of color and diversity feeds me. Together we comprise an ecosystem, of which I am a singular part. And together we flourish and thrive. Together we build abundance.

I hear rains may come tomorrow ~
to cool the earth and put out mental fires.
To drench us in balms of ease
Our skin, like the earth's needs this soothing coolness.
We welcome the rain's calming influence.

Until then, watching the birds stills me. Allowing my tight nervous system to relax and flow. The birds bring me ease, wonder and beauty. I find, that Watching them commingle, in their paths, and on their flyways, helps me lean into trust, to trust in the paths in my own life, seen and unseen. Their blissful presence reminds me in this moment, that sometimes, it is better to simply trust, dive in and sing. I'll lean into this good wisdom today.

Notice the pink queen's anne lace in the above photo. I think pink, that comes in to welcome the day and night is a miracle

Love you all so much. Thank you for reading and supporting this blog. More to come soon

Namaste

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the mist lifts, the quiet fills the air.
the day lingers,
the grasses commune
the birds buzz
the gardens green

I linger with them, sitting on my stoop, early in the morning, pondering the day, watching the world around me imbue themselves with the gentleness of June.

A red-eye vireo has been insistent for love, singing increasingly loudly behind the yurt. I pause my pen to listen, just now. As I did so, I caught the path of his trail flying overhead, to a new location. The song he sings is fainter now, coming from the deer yard. I hope this shift in perspective helps him find his mate.

The days approach solstice and most birds are quiet now, already sitting on their nests.

All of us, in our winter emergings, have been dreaming of sunny days, and gentle breezes moving gently across our skin. Maybe today is the day.
A day to stand still with the sun.
To pause and listen to the heartbeat of the cosmos.
To feel tender whispers against our skin.

Quiet ~

Whether it is summer or winter where we are, where ever we are,
perhaps we can all pause and welcome the peace of the day, letting it flow through us, welcoming the peace as a blessing designed just for you, receiving the rare gifts of Sophia, gentleness, quiet and stillness

This gift pours on us as light and plasma, color and wave. It flows into our pores, cells and soul, filling us with the beat of the our soul. From moment to moment, in this space of liminal non-time, receive.

~ Solstice ~

♥

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Spring unfurls in layers of expressive green and astonishing blossoms. The abundant herbs who I collect for teas, thrive well after the generously rainy month. I present a photo montage to demonstrate the unveiling of this Flourishing Spring, illuminating life.

Spring Beauty ~

quiet wood violet ~

trout lily ~

"The dandelion will grow through tarmac, through concrete and I have even seen a Dandelion growing in the vent on a car bonnet!! "
My days collection ~

Painted trillium hiding deep in mysterious woods ~

Some plants grow at speed of sound at times, and multiply with ease. They gather, congregate, share, forgive and grow some more.

A beautiful quote from Danu ~ "The plants that grow on the edges, on the wild side of things, are the toughest and sassiest plants we have. They have tenacity, courage, determination and a “I’ll do it my way” kind of attitude. They cannot be confined, they cannot be erased, they cannot be put down."

The unfurling fiddlehead emerging with grace from deep spidery webs.

May their legacy thrive and multiply.

The lady slipper who's habitat was subject to clear cutting - I spotted this queen a few weeks ago, robustly returning after resting in the soil to wait for better times. These are better times.

one week later ~

Flowers in the sky ~

Blessings for your late Spring and early summer. May you find the medicine from the earth, and reciprocate with gratitude. "Flourishing is mutual."

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I had begun to suspect that the very existence of this flower was a dream, created as a figment of my imagination, which can be quite vivid. I had steeped in the idea of searching for this trailing beauty during the dark of winter, when green and flowers are only a vision, offering warm hope. I planned to start the search early, before the cold could even leave the crevices of the earth in order to assure a glimpse of this truly rare and ephemeral flower.

I had asked other flower enthusiasts, "Have have seen it?, Do you know it?" They invariably answered, "never heard of it." My quest for the knowledge of this flower's existence began to feel like the trail of Don Quixote persevering against the doubts of his readers. Despite my own doubt, on the first warm day, when skies were clear of the drenching rains, I went on my pilgrimage in search of the mysterious Trailing Arbutus. I embarked with my fanciful Rocinante and sneakers battered and worn from the wear of a long mud season.

The image of an old trail, one shown to me by Dano years ago, drifted into my mind's eye. In the moment of setting off, the memory surfaced like an emerging ephemeral, appearing as a hopeful guide on the quest. I drove to the remembered trailhead and from there simply, directly, let my heart lead the way. An indistinct path, an infrequently traveled track, led me straight to the trailing beauty's feet.

Nestled on a mossy stony cliff, where feet cannot easily climb or trample, dangled flowers in tiers of luminous beauty and various stages of emergence.

To thrive, these ephemerals require undisturbed forest floor. To dance and bloom, they requires gentle space.
While there, I found a later blooming spring gift ~ the fairy-like dancing goldthread:

How have you remained hidden so long? Treasures un-veiled. Tender vines curling in figures of life.

I inhaled the moment, breathing in its fragrance, and then quickly, gently, tiptoed away, covering my tracks as I left. My trail traveled back through the quietly singing creek and the chorus of peepers from a distant pond.

Maybe the secret remains because everyone imagines them to be a myth. And maybe the secret remains because we must travel through our own disbelief to our own myth first. Then, in trusting the dreams and visions we discover our treasure. Today, I ambled through the threshold of myth, following a hunch and a hope. I landed in the beauty and abundance. I hope you follow your dreams through disbelief to create your own magnificent myth.

Crocuses from my garden that carry a similar glow

PS: I publish this today. The discovery was on Earth day. Namaste

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It's raining. It's raining A Lot. The rivers have swollen from the downpours. The grounds are swollen with the abundance of water. The paths beneath my feet feel soft from the high water table, and are ready to shed the excess into rivulets with every step.

In all this, the birds rejoice.

The trees love the rain. The amphibians love the rain. The birds? The birds Adore the rain. The more it rains, the more the birds sing. The Juncos, the chickadees, the goldfinches all appear giddy. I try to capture their expressions of delight here in the transfusions of rain.

The sweet Juncos sing in syncopated trills, loudest on rainy days, sounding like the burbling of water over smooth pebbles, with harmony and stereo. Their calls seem to come from everywhere in the forest, echoing 360 degrees. The chickadees, they laugh and squeal in joy, flying in loops, while performing general feats of daring in their playful game of courting. The cardinal calls boldly and proudly; and the goldfinches twitter like after-school children in glee. As the rain falls, the songs amplify in direct proportion to the amount of moisture in the air.

They know something about creating their heaven on earth that I am learning. They relish these days of rain that linger and soak, they rejoice in the waters that stream off the land. They are creating a chemistry of delight in the presence of the divine in water.

I heard this quote from the autists of the Telepathy Tapes, as transcribed by Veda Austin,

"water is the expression of the Creator's first love, a being that Creator never wants to separate from.
Therefore, it is everything. It's love." "even after the water leaves, the water still echoes."
*~*

The birds appear to already know this mystery. And when we listen to them, we seem to feel it too, as though the music of birdsong is expressing the love of Spirit to us. And we have only to listen. They have received a memo about the rain, that we are only beginning to understand.

Their message from the universe: on rainy day, sing your love, with purpose and increased joy. Twirl and trill, thrum and hum, twitter and soar, rock and roll. Laugh out loud with glee. Let's try that too.

There is a word in Sanskrit, Bhāvana, meaning, to infuse, or to saturate any powder with fluid; an infusion; a feeling of devotion; and the moral of a fable, (Lorin Roche). Bhāvana is a perfect description for the woods and the birds in the rain, this Spring. From their song and the water, the land has been infused with delight, and with the transmission of joy of the divine. This infusion could change us, could change our chemistry. To teach us to create heaven on earth with our neighbors. Lorin Roche, asks, with what qualities would you like to infuse your day? Gratitude? Awe? Quietessence? What heaven can you create today?

As it rains, I look up, in the attempt to absorb the infusion in the atmosphere, the transmissions from the sky, the codes of delight. I want to sing my song with purpose, delight and clarity.

Welcome rainy day. Welcome clouds. Welcome creator.

Welcome song.

Welcome birds of Spring creating paradise on Earth. I best go outside, observe and listen.

For more musing on the waters and the very wet Spring ~ Venus Muse~