Old age is like a bank account.

You withdraw in later life what you have deposited along the way!

The best advice is to deposit all the happiness you can

in your bank account of memories!

Always remember the simple ingredients for life,
Free your heart from hate,
Free your mind from worry.
Live simply and give more than you get!
You will have the greatest wealth,

Your account will never end!

Following an evening enjoying the fall woods on the eve of a heavy weather front, I left my perch after watching a subdued sunset. As I traveled the dirt road from the woods, I had a sense that this sunset was going to be special.

The sun had dropped below the treetops but was not content on going quietly. As if the approaching clouds were props on a stage, the waning sun cast a magnificent up lighting effect.

Rolling waves of billowing clouds absorbed the final rays of the day and cast a panoramic view as I continued homeward. At this moment it was only fitting that I was approaching the crest of the hill when what I thought I saw was the true face of God highlighted in the sea of light.

I am sure it was God also enjoying this stunning landscape painting and hoping someone would admire his efforts.

We are all familiar with the brilliant sky paintings we see during the fall season. When one event can make you stop your daily travels, you must appreciate the measure of power and grandeur it takes to provide you this view.

 For me personally, it concluded an evening where I had front row seat to a seasonal play and opportunity to participate and applaud an astounding performance.

A life removed from the living is always remembered for the deeds it creates.

The gifts of lessons left behind are the fuel for future endeavors.

A true hero lived among us teaching all the rights and wrongs of life’s lessons.

Handing down lessons carved by experience was the job of this wonderful man.

He loved life, his family and friends could always relish in his company.

Respect was written in his face and the faces of those he touched.

His hallmark was a teacher, a teacher of life.

He gave back all that was given to him ten-fold.

A simple soul, he assumed the responsibility to be the best to his children.

His children now have the job of living their lives out of respect for a job well done.

They must extend themselves thru the lessons he taught.

They must remain true to his words.

The ultimate respect for him will be their allegiance to his memory and the warm gift this gives them in their own lives.

His passion to work in wood gave us all something to cherish and a piece of him to hold.

He knew by crafting in wood it would be strong, warm and hold a piece of his heart deep in the stained fibers.

The varnish sealed his gift from damage and his memory would be fresh in the feel of the finished wood.

I made a promise to him and to myself to continue his legacy to preserve his spirit in all that I do. If I faulter, I will have his courage to change the things I can and help improve those I cannot. Above this I owe him many thanks for the lessons,

The good times I carry in my heart, striving to become one with the Greatest of Men.

If you have ever baited a hook, tied a fly or jigged a jig, the pure excitement of casting a fishing line cannot be denied, no matter your age.

There is a whole new world at the other end of the line as it settles on the surface and depth is not important. Experience is not necessary because the expectations are the same for novice or pro.

The all-important tug on the line is connected to your heart and no doubt will bring a smile every time. Bobbers-bob, lines go taut and the fun begins. Maybe it is small, maybe a new world record, but your bait has been recognized and the signal has been sent and you go to work.

Anticipation is rampant as your eyes go wide and thoughts go wild. What treasure awaits as you reel the line back to the spool.

No doubt that these creatures with fins and gills provide happiness and joy by just existing below the surface.

Try wetting a line and feel a true connection to Mother Nature. You will just have to smile!

Take a moment to listen to the language of the woods,

it is pure and ever changing with the wind.

Each directional flow provides notes which inspire the soul and warms the heart.

A whisper of wind as it caresses each pine needle provides a tone like strings on a violin.

The silent sound of leaves returning to the forest floor,

provides a crescendo of music which softens their return to Mother Nature.

As you walk the path of this newly laid fall carpet,

your senses are cleansed and absorbed by the smells and signs of nature’s finest air freshener. 

Gratefulness fills your heart that you have immersed your being into a simpler way of life.

It is this connection with nature that allows us to understand the language of the wind, which sustains our life.

As we traverse the years given to us, our memories, good or bad, provide the essence of who we are or yet to become. Thoughts flood through the catalogue of my memory bank and one experience makes me smile.

            I remember summers growing up on the Gunpowder River, at the head waters of the Chesapeake Bay, where I shared a homemade rowboat and a crabbing adventure with one very special person. My maternal grandmother, endearingly known as Minnie, was a jovial, loving soul, full of adventure and love with nothing expected in return.

            Excitement filled the pre-dawn morning when we were scheduled to caste off the pier laden with bait and hemp string in search of the tasty Chesapeake Blue Crab. Grandma would have prepared fried bologna sandwiches as I loaded the boat with dip nets and baskets. Unless the weather was blowing a gale, my Grandmother would not be deterred from going “chicken necking”.

To the many readers who grew up along the shores of the Chesapeake or other coastal towns the terminology in this story may be familiar. Chicken-neckin’ as it is known, involves attaching a piece of fresh chicken neck to a weighted string line, which were known as handlines.

I would navigate the boat by oar to set up several hundred yards offshore into deeper water and drop anchor. Handlines were pre-loaded for quick deployment and the nets and baskets were at the ready. Then, the wait began for the all-important “tug” on the string from below which indicated the crabs were aware. At that moment this was all that meant anything in the world to me. To see the excitement in Grandma’s eyes and having her give the command to “man the net” was pure heaven. Although excited, I do admit I was scared to death if I was not able to land dinner!

Grandma would position herself on the mid-ship bench and tend eight or ten handlines. As a seasoned pro she would handle each line like a virtuoso violinist. I believed that she could tell if a crab had taken the bait even before the crab would. Her patience was both a way to catch more blue crab as well as a lesson for me. Once a sizeable catch had been retrieved and loaded into the basket, we would weigh anchor and head for shore to prepare to steam the feast. It would be an afternoon of anticipation until we sat at the picnic table with a mound of crustaceans ready to be enjoyed.

Many similar adventures from my memory could be written and fill countless pages but usually one single adventure provided the life lesson which to recall. Patience, humility and love were displayed that day and have lasted a lifetime for me. Hold on to the simple pleasures in life for they end up meaning the most.

This morning strong westerly winds lifted the spirit of the freshly fallen snow across my path of travel.

Wisps of blowing snow like a fine cotton veil moved in random directions on the wind. I was in the presence of greatness and power from the almighty creator.

Like many I was preparing for the rebirth of spring, but winter crossed seasons and delivered one more appearance.

I observed trees and bushes swelling under the burden of new life as they witness yet another surprise but stand ready and undeterred.

The roar of March is once again present and the persistence of Mother Nature has to be admired.

Two seasons competing for my attention, both causing blessings and consternation at the same time.

I ponder how long winter will linger but with great patience comes great reward. Nature’s sense of humor is once again front page and the result is that I have a great appreciation when warm winds return to claim the skies and the sun will heal my winter’s journey.

 The miracle of blooms and blossoms will replace barren limbs and stalks and greenery will abound.

Warm sunrises will replace icy winds and winter will have done its job bringing grateful thanks to my soul and spirit.

I am reminded to hold steady the ways and wonder of nature for its ways are many and reasons are few. I am grateful!

There are times in the night,

Before light of dawn,

I dream of you at my side

I smile in the darkness,

With you snuggled so close,

At my feelings of longing deep inside

Your presence in my life,

Has jump-started my heart.

A heart which has lived in complacency,

Being the norm, not the exception.

Now excitement and wonder are fuel to move

In a new direction.

Love cannot survive in a static heart, rendered helpless,

Torn apart.

Grateful to the woman with vision to see      

Giving meaning to life, a chance to be

Long is the road to lay ahead.

To be welcomed as an audience member in nature’s daily play is a blessing. To have a seat in the front row of the performance is a truly a treasured opportunity. I give thanks to the great creator for I am truly humbled by the beauty of the day.

Today a warming front brings steady rain, falling on frozen earth, which creates a ghostly fog to hide the approaching dawn. A light easterly wind choreographs the morning shroud across the cut corn. It has a spiritual presence and movement, lingering above the earth with no apparent sense of direction. It is just there!

      Suddenly, in the mist, movement is captured from the corner of my eye. Any movement on the hunt gives race to the pulse. A flock of hen turkeys soars from the roost and lands with authority in the field. They have but one purpose or so I think.  They approach my position not ten yards away, some seventeen in all. They leisurely walk the barren field, constantly in search of a good meal.

It is amazing how truly attentive they are to their surroundings while tending to their task of searching for food. After a short time, they meld into the haze and disappear into the security of the woodlot. Moment later, they can be seen running like troops in formation across the corn field, amazingly quick as they approach the fence row, crossing in single file, just feet from my location. I can count the feathers and the sound of tripod feet.  As I turn to watch their purpose for such haste, I see their reason to hurry. Stationed in the middle of the adjacent field are some twenty additional strutting brethren. They assemble, a communal gathering with one purpose, to scratch the corn fodder, to search for corn manna left behind from the harvest.

The rain remains steady which seems to provide an orchestral background to the duties of the moment, but they pay no mind to the falling moisture. I believe this is force in numbers to work in unity for all to feed.

       From the confines of my home I cannot pen the subject of this scene. For inspiration I must rise and don the cloak of nature and proceed to a woodlot playhouse where every scene is free range and not rehearsed.

Their only rehearsal is driven by survival. The players are true feathered spirits working for one reason, one goal, oblivious to my need to attend. I am grateful and thankful for this performance.

A “Pine Wind” is a masterful force as it moves through the needles producing a melodic tune of strength and power.

These sentinel trees, high above the terrestrial floor, accepts the wind as a life force of the planet.

The needles play the chords of change and dutifully create a symphony which, if one takes a moment, can truly enjoy the song of spirit on the wind.

As the breeze ushers in the morning the sunrise creates a sparkling array of diamonds shards on the surface of the tide.

This crystalline display holds our attention and creates a subtle emotion of calm repose and thought.

 A panoramic awakening comes alive in our consciousness and we who witness are given a gift of mystic greatness, power and direction.

 We realize that we are listening to spirit, traveling in time and space and flowing in our existence as we commune with the pines and accept the movement of spirit through their needles.