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The morning started with the lovely song of a redwing blackbird.

The fall air was crisp, and the morning mist weighed heavily on the lake, like thick grey wool. Off to the east, the sun was barely beginning to cut through the early morning darkness. I sat outside the tent, sipping my coffee and waiting for enough light to go fishing. No one else in camp was stirring.

My choice of lure irked my fly fishing purist friend, especially when it worked.

Meditations on bleeding hearts and broken hearts

There was a reflection of that light in each place around the lake where there was a light source. The reflections carried out on the ripples well beyond where the illumination ended. At the crest of each ripple, the reflection of the light danced for just a momen

Later this morning, I am meeting a friend at a coffee shop. It will be a treat as it has been more than a month since I could do that. Of late, my morning coffee time has tended to look more like the photo than a coffee shop.

The sand rose, or desert rose, is a wondrous thing to behold. It has a delicate beauty that is hard to imagine. There is no fragrance to the desert rose because while it may look like a flower, it is a mineral concretion. It may crumble into nothing at a touch.

This country road looks perfectly harmless and safe when it is dry, but come the rainy season, watch out.

Life is in many ways like a fleeting shadow—time flies.

Reflections on the coming of Spring and the nature of Giod.

… we acknowledge Him as Saviour, but sometimes we get our back up and will not do what He tells us.