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Hernando’s Oath

Whitewashing may be

the great breach of Light and Truth.

Just be still and know.

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Presidents Day ’26 Sunset

Everyday people

                  must stand and live together

                                                      or perish as fools.

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An Eternal October Saturday

I walk through this park,

accompanied, yet alone.

Reluctant leaves bid me farewell.

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Blank Truths

Lily, fragrant white,

captures the promise of day,

not to be defined.

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Blending Well

20 July 2025

I often remember the sweeping backyard garden that my grandparents tended. It covered much of the cleared quarter-acre area before untouched woodland. Those early years left me with a respect and love of Nature that has carried me through these older years of change, moving, turbulence, and gratitude.

Today, even though the periphery garden in a tiny backyard is of no match to my grandparents’ bounty, the attempt to recall the second-nature backyard farming of the past with the conveniences of the present seem to set a particular stage, especially in these times.

I may be misguided, but these days seem fraught with information that is less than reliable. Recalls dot the news as people sometimes opt for quick, cheap products…as marketers’ profits increase in both price and risk. And then there’s the tariffs on the global economy, in which All of God’s creation, of whom “we” are truly just a part, has Her stake.

My grandmother tended a frilly deep green plant with fuzzy leaves and bright blue flowers in her section of the garden. In her Italian, I remember it was borragine, in English, borage.

As a bit of basic available research shows, borage flowers [https://www.nutrition-and-you.com/borage.html] contain an incredible amount of nutrients: Vitamins A, C, GLA – an essential fatty acid containing iron (41% of RDA), calcium, potassium, manganese, copper, zinc, and magnesium. This, apparently was understood by “a nonna” who reached almost 90 years of age, still tending her garden.

Often, the wisdom of the past can collaborate with the ease and advantages of the future, but we still have to be humanly wise, engage, and balance the two into the points of human life, trust, knowledge and work that are within our access today.

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Bees on the Buttonbush

June 29, 2025

Insanity reigns

while moral compass ruptures,

as bees gift us hope.

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Just Let Go…

June 10, 2025

Approximately two years ago, I learned about the wispy anemone flower, the “Grecian windflower” and purchased a mixture of bulbs, unsure about their colors. I recall planting them in a large, gray container and despite some green leaves, there was nothing noticeable…until this year.

Maybe it’s the coolness of this 2025 spring, or the gentle rain again today as the Heavens weep for human ignorance, arrogance minus repentance…yet.

Yesterday morning, already late, I locked the front door and moved towards the car…a butter-yellow flash interrupted my rush. Moving towards the planter, I found three full, forgotten anemone blooms who seemed to greet me with smiles and project a message.

Their butter-yellow color suggests cheer, optimism, good fortune while the mythology reflects the long love of Aphrodite and Adonis, who was killed by a wild boar during a hunt. With several explanations for the meaningful story, Adonis dying in Aphrodite’s arms, covered with her tears, is said to represent death & rebirth. To echo Thomas Berry, Earth is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects, and exists, survives only in Her integral functioning. Earth must be the primary concern of every human institution, profession, program and activity. In economics, for instance, the first law of economics must be the preservation of the Earth economy. A rising Gross National Product with a declining Gross Earth Product reveals the absurdity of our present economy. It should be clear, in the medical profession, that we cannot have healthy people on a sick planet. (Thomas Berry, The Dream of the Earth)

This messaging has been given consistently over mammoth stretches of time and throughout all cultures. Take a moment to stop from the rush, the noise and negativity to select your moment of letting go of predictable schedules. Impose an intentional silence and let your attention drift to listening well, feeling a moment, discerning communication, connecting with mutual appreciation and comprehending the messages transforming into your consequential action. This is how Spirit speaks.

(Find the symbolism & meaning through Nature or traditions of all cultures – https://padrepioministry.org/prayers-information/surrender-novena/ – access is infinite.)

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Sunday Revelations

May 25, 2025

French Rose-Pink faces

as I stroll through this Sunday

greet me with each step.

Memorial Day weekend brings memories. Sun is fading now behind clouds uneasy to say goodbye. This spring is cool, with so far just enough rain, yet each breath for tomorrow is unknown. Roses speak.

The more we allow the Silence of our surroundings to speak, the more our hearts can listen to the truths they beg to tell. All is a part of them as they are a part of us all. We share their time, space, beauty, life. When this becomes the gift fully comprehended…all things will transform. For this moment, we await.

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Mother’s Day Morning

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Blooms Before Sunset

26 May 2024

Yesterday afternoon spring flowers grinned in their silence. These neighborhood suburban streets remained abandoned, much like the beginnings of 2020 when more crucial questions let Nature breathe. Maybe people were boardwalking the beaches, cheering military air shows, or swaying from one unbeatable faithful store sale to the next that most holidays bring.

I reached across the quiet to imagine the garden plants’ thoughts. This year the sage sprouts full, pale lavender flowers on every stem, guaranteeing a bouquet of savory leaves for summer dishes of garlic sage butter for pasta to offer me memories lasting through winter risottos.

A childhood woodland past shadows my path as the small Mountain Laurel displays bright red buds, ready to spring into bright pink spring flowers. An occasional yellow leaf with blight reminds me this woodland plant needs special care in an unpredictable suburban neighborhood like this one. Apparently, we aren’t much different in that respect.

A newly purchased groundcover, Saponaria ocymoides (Rock Soapwort) reaches across barren, rocky dirt bringing pale pink flowers of prolific blooms that one can only pray will multiply and spread. Isn’t that the ultimate hope for all the goodness we try to accomplish?

And finally, after three years of questioning, the roses return with vibrancy and love, as if to guarantee that despite their absence, our directives as misfits that many learn to discover, we still grow among them, and are Loved.

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