Nuance

it is the difference in the cry when a baby is irritable, or hungry
the difference in grains of wood,
the difference in textures of green in the forest
the slight shifts in technique, releasing the basketball for a shot
the quality of shade that welcomes or repels the astillbe
   (I have yet to find a place where it will thrive)
the sound of a ferrari as opposed to a ford;
the reality of grace and free gift when compared to my work,
    and my response to that grace
freedom and slavery
grace and expectation
sometimes the difference is only a shade.  only a nuance. 
it catches us by surprise when we were expecting a whole new universe. 
And you only catch the nuance when you live long in that land. 
Listening often to that precious child, you learn the difference between pain and hunger. 
working with wood teaches the difference in grains
   and why one is suited for flooring and another for carving

...listening for grace.

Falling

I love the way this season seeps into my soul. 
I always reject the first sign ... my ornery poplar dropping fully yellow leaves onto my lawn
before August slips into my backyard. 
But the increasing harvest of tomatoes, the gradual sweetening of carrots,
the crispening of the nights,
the warming of our bedroom as the rising sun reflects off the yellows of that same poplar tree,
the sounds of Canada geese practicing their take-offs along the river banks,
the unexpected call of sandhill cranes high above us as we enjoy supper on the deck,
the sights and sounds of students on the sidewalks of our neighborhoods;
they bring a richness of color and texture and flavor to life that makes me want to savor this season of change.

defining ourselves

I prefer to leave footprints in the sand rather than concrete,
   fleeting expressions across the faces of my children,
       a snapshot of my garden ...


experimenting with words,
 struggling to express beauty,
   wrestling with life,
     bearing witness