In the moonlit glade, a lynx appears, Fur-tipped ears, green-gold eyes quelling fears, A guardian wise, like an androsphinx’s grace, Yet, ponder, do we anthropomorphize his face?
All-knowing aura, mystique in his stare, Yet, does he ponder life with a thoughtful air? Do we project our musings, a human reflection, Onto the lynx, seeking a shared connection?
In the silent forests, mysteries untold, Does the lynx ponder more than hunger bold? Hissing and yowling and screams in the night, A startling assertion of nature’s might.
In winter’s embrace, a lonely man found cheer, A red fox came, a friend so dear.
Exquisite fur, eyes of blue-green grace, Shared scraps, forming a bond in that quiet space.
Yet, in reaching out, a truth unfolds, Wild and untamed, as nature holds.
Teeth bared, a lesson swiftly learned, A cunning companion, loyalty unearned.
I found it difficult to teach my children to be wary of wild animals when so many children’s books, cartoons, and movies – especially Disney movies, portrayed them as cute and cuddly creatures.
In a quiet wood where leaves gently spread, A hedgehog dwelled, his own path he’d tread. Alone he preferred, in solitude’s embrace, Away from his prickle, a solitary grace.
In rustling leaves, he found delight, Playing alone, a lone hedge’s right. Curling in a ball, he’d peacefully sleep, In solitude’s company, his secrets to keep.
One morn, a snowy blanket covered the land, The woods adorned in an arctic strand. Under the sun’s gaze, a serene tableau, Yet, no fellow creatures, no friend or foe.
As he played in the snow, a shadow drew near, Unseen by the hedgehog, it whispered in his ear. In his longing for solace, he returned to his den, Curled up in a ball once more, in dreams to transcend.
Little hedgehog, in the quiet of his rest, Unaware of the shadow, a mysterious guest. Alone, he slumbers, in his dream’s reprieve, In the snowy woods, where secrets weave.
I first learned about hedgehogs from TheTale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, a delightful little children’s book written and illustrated by Beatrix Potter. Although the protagonist hedgehog interacted with other animals in the story, hedgehogs are known to be solitary creatures – save for mating. I know at least one person who is very much a loner, like the hedgehog, and he seems very content. :)
In the peaks where snow doth lie, A creature graced with silent stride, Snow leopard roams beneath the sky, In the realm where frost abides.
With fur of silver, spots of night, Its gaze, ice blue, a mystic sight, Amongst snow-capped mountains high, A guardian beneath the moonlight.
Once a child of that mountain air, A woman now, distant and fair, From the village, she did part, Leaving behind a heavy heart.
In dreams, she hears the snow’s soft call, A longing echoes through the hall, Her spirit yearns for frozen grace, To wander in that wild embrace.
The snow leopard, a silent guide, Through peaks where memories abide, Its eyes like crystals, piercing cold, A tale of nature’s beauty told.
The woman, haunted by the past, Desires the mountains, free at last, To return to where her soul belongs, Amidst the snow, where it prolongs.
Through valleys deep and rivers wide, Her heart retraces steps beside, Towards the peaks, she yearns to climb, Reconnect with frozen time.
Oh, snow leopard with eyes so bright, Guide her through the frigid night, To find her way, to nature’s lore, To the mountains she adored once more.
The northern landscapes that shaped my early years now seem like distant dreams. I wish for a winter’s day, especially in the late afternoon as the sun is setting, when the snow is infused with soft shades of white, blue, lavender, and rose.
No Christmas Goose! Papa, please don’t make Gilbert the Christmas goose! I love him so. How about ham? from All Poetry
Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas! Fowl, but not goose, will be at our dinner table this year. Looking forward to merriment with family and friends. Be well!
Mischievous Shiba lives for those moments when you tell him he can’t do something. “No” means a very interesting challenge, and he will devise all sorts of strategies to subvert you.from Shibashake.com
Christmas arrived early in the form of a delightful Shiba Inu named Yumi. She is our second rescue dog and now a devoted companion to her bigger, but not older sister, Kimmie. This sweet dog was initially very anxious, trembling in the corner of her cage, and not making eye contact. But my daughter, Lauren, was very patient and loving with her, and now this 16 pound bundle of joy has become a playful and charmingly naughty member of the family.
Yumi is not a lap dog, and never will be – cuddling is not in her nature. She has an independent spirit and an innate respect for her caregiver’s space. She has lots of energy and loves to hide toys and then find them with great prancing and tail wagging. She makes you appreciate how animals (and humans, too) can blossom with kindness and understanding.
Purple (or violet) symbolizes repentance and penance. Vestments of purple or violet are used during the seasons of Advent and Lent. The color reminds us of the violet flower that bows its head and is a symbol of humility.
I saw a magnificent Golden Eagle soaring above me yesterday on my hike. What captured my attention was not its wingspan or plumage but its dark purple beak! It made me reflect on the color purple – one that has been associated with royalty and spirituality for centuries. In the context of Christmas, it carries a rich symbolism in the Nativity – one of the three Wise Men, Balthazar, wore a purple cloak and later Jesus was draped in a purple robe as King of Kings.
My last post celebrated the color red and a more secular vision of Christmas. But the color purple drew me into the real meaning of Christmas, the celebration of Christ’s birth, the liturgies, a deep reverence for the omnipresent spirit and ways of the Lord, and a profound connection with my fellow human beings.
In a snowy realm where moonlight gleams, A Husky roams, Luna, in nightly dreams. Coat of silver, a shimmering tide, Her blue-eyed gaze, where secrets hide.
Paws dance softly on frost-kissed ground, Whispers of tales in each howl’s sound. Majestic Luna, a spirit untamed, In her eyes, the starry skies framed.
Fur like shadows, midnight’s embrace, Chasing echoes in the moonlit space. Her presence, a symphony of silent grace, A Husky’s charm, in the moon’s soft trace. Luna poem by Joan Currie
Huskies are a unique breed of dogs. Their striking appearance, with piercing blue eyes and a thick double coat, is often the first thing people notice. But their beauty is not just skin deep; Huskies are known for their incredible personalities. They are intelligent, independent, and, at times, a little mischievous. Our neighbor’s dog, “Luna”, is all these things and more – her loyalty and companionship are unparalleled. You will never be lonely or bored with a Husky in your life!
Now the blue heron wades the cold ponds of November.
In the gray light his hunched shoulders are also gray.
He finds scant food – a few numbed breathers under a rind of mud.
When the water he walks in begins turning to fire, clutching itself to itself like dark flames, hardening, he remembers.
Winter. From A Poem for the Blue Heron by Mary Oliver
I watched a blue heron as it stood in quiet contemplation – its long, sinuous neck curved like an ornate candelabrum. In the language of the poets, this elegant creature embodied a dignified grace, a symbol of refinement and grandeur. Its slate-blue plumage, reminiscent of fine silk, caught the light, creating an ethereal aura that stirred my senses. I had to paint it.
He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
From The Eagle by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Until recently, I have not been a fan of eagles. I think I associated them with my father’s emphatic mantra, “You can’t fly with the eagles if you hoot with the owls.”
I wasn’t sure I even wanted to fly with the eagles – their sharp, hooked beaks and talons looked very scary! Rather, I loved the reassuring sound of owls hooting in the stillness of the night (even though they are birds of prey, like eagles, but I didn’t know that then). I wanted to hoot, too, but alas, that was not permitted as long as I lived under my father’s roof.
P.S. I finally finished the watercolor of our Akita, Kimmie. Please see my August 26th updated post.
Satin & Sand 