Tickled Pink

Hoping for rainbows....after the showers..

Mt Baker,Snow Geese, Daffodil Fields

I live in an extraordinary place, where I am surrounded with beauty so breathtaking, that I seem unable to bear it at times, aware, I guess they might say in Japan. ( The feeling)

 Every direction I  look, or take is beautiful, has diversity, and so much to offer, and I can't get around to it all, and won't be able to take it all in in this one lifetime alone.

Each season is cloaked in such beauty I cannot explain my feelings, or contain my desire to be present everywhere at once ......almost, mountains beckon, and each season is a new adventure.

 Winter is for snow, skiing, snowshoeing.

Summer, primarily July/August is good for hiking mountains previously under snow, like Chain Lakes at Mt Baker, and a million other hikes I will never get around to in a lifetime of forevers.

Fall is good for visits to the ocean, camping at Rialto, Oregon Beaches..

Spring , flowers bloom in profusion everywhere.

Seattle is 30 minutes form me, Canada is about 1.5 hours away, and The Ocean is a few hours, The Sound  is a block away, Whidbey Island can be seen from my window.

Tulip and Daffodil fields north about 45 minutes each spring...

I feel I am soaked in beauty .. even the fog is a delight in winter time, and I love the cool drizzle all year round.

Islands, Whales, bear, deer, elk........

How will I ever leave here to go elsewhere, Morocco, France, Italy, etc.?

 I may never leave paradise...

there is no place like Home.

Happy Mother's Day!

Life in the PNW

One Years Hiatus from Cloud Hidden...

One Years Hiatus from Cloud Hidden...via my daily City photo blog

But I can't seem to stay away long from this online journal of my  ♥  heart.

But I confess to have taken up with facebook, and love it.. Stop by..

Nothing Real Could Change

Times pass 

nothing changes

 nothing stays the same

Only what is, never changes

the river runs over it's  banks and makes a new bed

 the water  remains 

Years pass by

 don't see your eyes 

 hear your voice

smell your scent

Calendars my memory flips through

  days and weeks months, years

no word, yet, I think of you 

doesn't change

Countless times  wanting to hear your 

voice

near my ear

saying  best friends again

always

silence is all

 nothing else

 never changes

silence speaks

 given up I guess

we've parted ways I see

it must be

so

decades pass by

 life seems to be nearing the end 

 at times

letting go

 I'll just let go

Then you're looking for me

 calling my name

wanting me

again

still

nothing has changed

heart whispers it's secrets 

(I already know) 

into my ear

wordlessly

a message so simple

be my friend

the universe spins off it's axis

words mean nothing

never have

One soul is  all there is

Mine and yours 

One.

Your neurons mingled with mine 

we were twins 

on the Scottish highlands perchance?

or enemies fighting over shirts?

before time 

the beginning 

we were One, 

for sure, and never parted

took strange forms

pretended to be separate

leaves from a tree

to see how it would feel

 strangers

What could be stranger?

(part of the plan?)

 nothing changed

it's all the same old familiar story

everything changed, but nothing could

love, love love

So, I haven't been around for awhile. I have a few new blogs, and been ignoring them too..

 Oh well, I found my log in for this , my first and oldest blog, Cloudhidden

My current blog is a daily city photo blog, and it's called:

 Mukilteo Daily Photo, and you can get there with this link:

http://mukilteodailyphoto.blogspot.com/

Delivers itself in Slivers

Stars stud black heaven,
a milky way,

slip off shoes
sit quietly listening,
observing

Your face shines
your eyes ,
I fall in to you

Grace
Grace, a pool of grace

Imagine grace, it is what you are, what I Am.
Sit in this minute moment, again
and again as it delivers itself in slivers

and watch as each sliver, a key so small,
defies time, the cosmos opens itself
there in a pool of grace at your feetless feet.

recognize.. when you dissolve from illusion into reality.

Were you, like me,
the last to know
you'd have to be

when awakened, It's seen
there is no other.

I AM the Bougainvillea, and the Butterfly

Still shivering, the cuffs of my sweater wet from impromptu gardening in the rain this evening just before dusk.

Teeth chattering, yet almost too busy reflecting upon the sensualities of nature to pay much mind to getting warmed up. There are some things that are more appealing than climbing into a warm old robe and being comfortable.

Yesterday, too hot, today, too cold and it’s wet, I had thought I lived in Washington, but surely not..these extremes too radical.

The cold and wet leftover from my excursion in the dirt and rain, as I was armed with water hose (myself the target apparently) thrills me enough to revel in the cold just now, with dirt still under my fingernails. [I think of Alan Watts in Cloud Hidden Whereabouts Unknown saying how the hippies had dirt underneath their fingernails. The connotation of that so filling, it’s a wonder all that conjures up..]

Yes, I have dirt under my fingernails and all that is conjured up in that phrase, I AM. I Am light at heart; and playful, I am experimental, and delightful, I am the explorer, the leader, and the follower I lead, the gifted, and gift as well.

I am the entrepreneur, and I am the mystic, the creator, and the created.. I AM.

I am the bougainvillea, and the butterfly , the pink rhododendron, and pink azalea, too. I am the dirt I dig, as I dig the dirt.

The smell of earth has caught me, I remember it’s first early scent as I sat upon the grass as a little baby girl so close to earth, she was one of my best friends, and still…..is.

The grasses and colors of flowers, and smells of scents that traveled by my nose, puppy smells, and tiny palms sweaty with dirt in the creases. I had mud pies in my stars; still in my stars, mud pies in my dreams, waking and sleeping.

Old hands now as I stop to look, as the cold wears off and I forget I AM, this eternal child for a moment, and remember time has a place in my dream, and age, too, along with age spots from too much sunshine. Surely that isn’t possible; too much sunshine, or too much fog, too much play or imagination?

I Am the remember-er; and maker of stardust, the molten core of earth and the waves upon the shore. I Am the cosmos, and laughter. I Am the divine, bougainvillea, and the butterfly.