In his Canticle of Creation, St. Francis of Assisi addressed the sun, moon, and other creatures as his very own siblings: Brother Sun, Sister Moon, and so forth. This makes sense to me. Cypress trees can be either brothers or sisters. It depends on their location, size, and “presence.” This one is the largest and oldest growing in Lake Martin near Breaux Bridge, La. (aka Lake la Pointe). To me, from the first encounter, she is not just a sister, but a wise old woman, a crone if you will. So when I needed a title for this photo, I…
Category: #AdventWord
#AdventWord #Begin
Trillium (Trillium ludoviciana) blooms in Louisiana in late February. One of its common names is “Wakerobin,” in keeping with its role as herald of spring. The trinitarian leaves appear first, low to the ground on sunny morning slopes. Then come the dark reddish-purple trinitarian sepals and petals. But don’t tarry. To see them, be in the woods as February turns into March. They will disappear without a trace, leaves and all, no later than the first of April. The shortness of their days in the dappled woodland light does not discourage them. Go back to the same spot next year….
#AdventWord #Hasten
Hurry up and wait. Anticipation tinged with dread. Something old must die. What is it? What familiar thing needs to go? What will be the cost of letting it go? Something new is coming. Will it be a gift or a curse? A challenge or a reward? What stretching of the heart, mind or soul will it require? Could the Star of Bethlehem have been a comet?
#AdventWord #Patience
Patience (excerpt)I used to hurry everywhere,and leaped over the running creeks.There wasn’ttime enough for all the wonderful thingsI could think of to doin a single day. Patiencecomes to the bonesbefore it takes root in the heartas another good idea.I say thisas I stand in the woodsand study the patternsof the moon shadows,or stroll down into the watersthat now, late summer, have alsocaught the fever, and hardly movefrom one eternity to another.~Mary Oliver .
#AdventWord #Truth
The spots on a butterfly’s wings are called “false eyes.” Nevertheless, every butterfly–indeed, all creatures, all creation–is truth. Guile belongs to humans alone.




