by Lindsay McLaughlin | Apr 12, 2016 | Contemplations
Recently, Scot brought to my attention a poem by May Sarton called April in Maine: The days are cold and brown, Brown fields, no sign of green, Brown twigs, not even swelling, And dirty snow in the woods. But as the dark flows in The tree frogs begin Their shrill...
by Linda DeGraf | Mar 12, 2016 | Contemplations
“All that is ripest and fairest in the wilderness is preserved and transmitted to us in the strain of the wood thrush. This is the only bird whose note affects me like music, affects the flow and tenor of my thought, my fancy and imagination. It lifts and...
by Lindsay McLaughlin | Mar 2, 2016 | Contemplations
We are in an ephemeral time here at Rolling Ridge, an indefinable season between winter and spring. Our friend Cheryl is repairing her bluebird boxes while patches of crusty snow line the side of the gravel road. Days ago, a bitter wind chilled faces and bones....
by Linda DeGraf | Feb 10, 2016 | Contemplations
The greatness of a community is most accurately measured by the compassionate actions of its members, a heart of grace, and a soul generated by love. ~ Coretta Scott King In February...
by Lindsay McLaughlin | Jan 28, 2016 | Contemplations
Snow began falling Friday afternoon, lazily, drifting effortlessly from a soft gray sky. Within hours the mood had changed; it became swift and determined, tiny particles careening downward, as Mary Oliver says, “…irrepressibly” into a world...
by Lindsay McLaughlin | Jan 17, 2016 | Contemplations
It was a wind-whipped, changeable afternoon. Clouds and rain gave way to sun, then swept in to shower some more and left again on another breath. The swirling duet of rainfall and sunlight fit my mood as I looked over the winter-ready garden and the...
