Yes, these rocky parallels are just as I found them, with no staging on my part.
Hmmmm, that has the ring of a little life parallel. Sometimes the “why is this happening to me?” incidences enter carefully into a conversation, and we find the redemption factor in these rough experiences: being able to encourage another sojourner with empathy along lines of, “I know a little bit of what you are going through - just hang on through this dark time.“
Love Letter by D.G. Vacha
At the end of winter daylight
when lemon passion glows
with the ardor of periwinkle,
at unexpected moments
I remember
a melody long forgotten,
jubilant as a nightingale’s song,...
Read on at lilies, sparrows and grass.
Click in the website name, "lilies, sparrows and grass", at the end of the above verse to continue reading D. G. Vacha's recently posted sunset poem.
Her imagery evokes so much beyond the poignant wonder I felt looking at this end-of-day scene in Livingston, Montana.
Sacajawea Park’s riverside trail includes several strategically placed benches from which to pause and ponder the lovely views, as demonstrated here by my lovely sibling.
(Given the light beaming portentously upon her, this photo could be subtitled “My Sainted Sister”.)
This winter wetland area along the meadow path at Missouri Headwaters State Park brought to mind childhood winter rambles. In our quest for a sledding hill on Grandpa’s farm, we trekked across acres of pastureland, skirting sloughs much like the one pictured, always careful to step on thick hillocks of grass and avoid the iffy ice. There was plenty of snow, and the cold had us bundled to leave only our eyes showing. Talk about a golden era of childhood freedoms - it still amazes me when I consider the leeway given be gone all day, on our own, with no cell phone tether and no neighbors for miles. Perhaps therein lies a clue to my craving for the balance of "alone time" and also views of unfettered terrain.
Bundled up as I was - in big boots and toque - for an evening stroll, I was astonished at how many bicycles were parked downtown in Missoula. Even after this weekend’s prolific snowfall, I saw cycling commuters in this morning’s traffic. Brave or desperate, one can only hope a good story is behind such a transport decision, particularly as we actually have a public transit system.
The walking path in Livingston’s Sacajawea Park meanders parallel with the Yellowstone River. However, to view this shore-level perspective, you have to clamber down a safe spot along the bank. And while you are out of view, it is advisable to sing a loud, happy song to ensure your big sister knows you haven’t come to some dreadful end, lest she start loudly calling your name after the fashion of a champion hogcaller. Sisters - gotta love ‘em, gotta humour them.
“Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun…”.
It takes a lot more than a couple day’s of snow to keep Montanans home from church.
Let there be some gathering together - and perhaps a snowball fight!
(And if you’re interested, Jeremiah may take you up the narrow corner stairwell up to see the bell.)
