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Sparklers of Light

July 7, 2019 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

As I explained in last week’s post, I was making a bee-line for the bog when we hiked the ‘Touch the Earth’ trail at Mille Lacs Kathio State Park. It was what I was anticipating in my head and needing for my spirit. But with camera in hand, I was stopped almost immediately on the trail by the presence of a Large-flowered Trillium. Trillium literally means ‘three-parted lily’ as the three white flower petals rise from a whorl of three deeply-veined leaves. It is a spring ephemeral woodland flower that blooms while sunlight still reaches the woodland floor. It is an interesting flower, protected from picking in the state of Minnesota, but unfortunately not protected from herds of white-tailed deer that can kill a colony of the fragile plants by browsing. Ants are the major source of seed dispersal, taking the fruits to their underground homes for eating then leaving the seeds. It can be several years from seed germination to flowering for these long-lived, slow-maturing perennials.

After pollination and as the flower ages, it turns a rosy pink color. Like many of the Spring Ephemerals, the foliage often dies back in the heat of summer.

Another tri-leaved flowering plant blended in with the surrounding greenery—the unusually-flowered Jack-in-the-Pulpit.

The Starflower plant has 6-8 petals and a whorl of 5-9 leaves, most commonly 7 for both.

The adaptable Columbine seem extravagant and showy in color and form as the nodding flower heads brighten the trail.

After such a rainy Spring, the bog wasn’t the only soggy place in the woods. Ferns and other plants who like wet feet were tall and vibrant with the abundant moisture.

Lavender-pink Wild Geraniums spread little carpets of color along the trail and deep into the woods.

A young Meadow Rue plant caught my attention—no flowers, no bright colors or extravagant form, but a green, flat table-top of foliage in the dappled sunshine.

A toad, still using his camouflage coat to hide from sight, was one of the few critters we saw on our hike.

A bright, white line of light shone on a meadow of grass that had gone to seed.

After our meander of the bog boardwalk and the treasures that presented themselves, I felt myself shift and settle down a bit. The landscape shifted some, too. One of the most interesting ferns was the Cinnamon Fern. The thick spikes of green fruit dots—the fertile fronds—will turn to a rich, cinnamon brown color as the sterile fronds surround them in a vase-like shape.

In a sunny area around the bog was a stand of Willows that had flowered and gone to seed. The cottony seedheads were like sparklers of light.

Gooseberry bushes were setting fruit—green striped berries that will ripen to reddish-purple.

We walked through a section of soothing Pine forest where the path is covered in fragrant, brown needles. The ‘Touch the Earth’ trail offered a sampling of many types of ecosystems.

We saw many Dragonflies on the after-bog trail. They were gently, quietly flying from one branch or stem to the next. Their iridescent wings and large eyes make them look like little sprites flitting through the greenery.

There is something that happens when we have our eyes and hearts set on a certain destination, when we single-mindedly want what we want. We often are rewarded with ‘the good stuff’ that we have anticipated. But sometimes, we are not. We get to our ‘destination,’ and the thing we desire is not there for us or circumstances have changed in such a way that our original plan is now defunct. Now what?! Often we despair, get stuck, don’t know which way to go from there. One mistake we tend to make during that bee-line journey is not paying attention to the details on the pathway to our destination. We overlook plants, people, intuitions, time, warning signs, and/or experiences that potentially have meaning for us and that could have made a difference in the trajectory of our journey. We can learn from the Dragonfly.

The Dragonfly symbolizes change, adaptability, light (joy and lightness of being), transformation, and emotions. They can move in all six directions, changing their flight pattern in their search for food or rest. They spend most of their life cycle in the water, which symbolizes emotions and the unconscious. But they also transform and adapt to land and air. Their iridescent wings can display different colors depending on the angles and polarization of the light striking them. Their large eyes represent clear vision of reality, removal of self-created illusions, and wariness of deceit. All in all, they represent mental and emotional maturity—what we all need in order to make the changes to reach our full potential as human beings. In our three-parted lives of mind, body, and spirit, we have the opportunity to grow and learn to move along with the ease of a Dragonfly. It takes time and maturity, but we can become sparklers of Light!

Paring Down to Bare

October 21, 2018 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

“Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities of life.”

by Phil Harris and Bruce Reitherman from the Jungle Book

We are a fickle bunch. We all have our own ideas of what the seasons should and shouldn’t be—Fall’s too short, Winter’s too long, Summer’s too hot, did we even have Spring this year?! We love the Hallmark renditions of the seasons and wish for three perfect months of that. The last two weeks have been a pretty perfect Fall here in Central Minnesota—even with the caveat that an early hard freeze took away the slow ripening of the yellows, oranges, and reds and muted them all.

Yet Mother Nature does what she does. The leaves have been losing their ability to use chlorophyll for energy, their colors are emerging, they are falling from the trees, and gathering like a circle skirt in the grass below the branches.

Then Mother Nature sends in the wind! Our idyllic Autumn speeds up, and in one day whips most of the leaves to the ground. Wait! That was too fast! Once again, our perception of what is happening is not the same as reality. The Maple tree above is the last of our big three Maples to change color and drop its leaves. The Maple tree below is the first to change—it has been changing color for over a month. The wind won’t take down the leaves until they’re ready to let go. The paring down process proceeds in the prescribed time, even while influenced by hard freezes and stiff winds.

Our little Larch trees turned a rich amber-gold this year instead of bright yellow, adapting to the conditions.

The Crabapple leaves browned and curled with the freeze, and when the tree is bare of leaves, it will still hold on to the fruit.

The tall, columnar Poplars dropped their leaves while still mostly green, making fragrant, messy piles in the street. Even though the branches seem bare without the leaves, the swollen buds for next year’s leaves are already there!

While the Ash trees have lost their leaves weeks ago—the first to turn yellow, even before official Autumn arrives—this little beauty of a Maple waits until late October, its shimmering red-orange leaves take center stage.

Most trees are identified by their leaves—those of us who really know trees see the differences in shape, in bark, in seeds, in color and can name them by name without the leaves. But losing the identity of the leaves complicates things, makes it harder to tell who is who. However, a Kentucky Coffee Tree is still a Kentucky Coffee Tree even when the leaflets are gone.

Most of the White Oaks are bare—their non-spectacular brown leaves have fallen to the ground along with this year’s prolific crop of acorns.

But the Red Oaks are just coming into their sensational color and often hold on to their leaves into or through the Winter.

The varied Viburnum shrubs run the gamut from glossy green to yellow to freeze-induced brown—all on their own time schedule.

Fall is a miraculous time of year—the programmed shut-down of the growing season—the short and sweet growing season of Minnesota (reality or my perception? Or a little bit of both?) September brings the beginnings of the paring-down time, and by this time in October, the paring down cannot be denied as the bare branches let the sky show through. Grief is a paring-down time, too. It strips away the unnecessary parts of our lives like a whirlwind, and we are left with the bareness. We are raw and vulnerable. Often we feel like the structure of our world has collapsed. The Hallmark rendition of our lives has been crushed. Something precious has been taken from us. We sit in the bare pain, the bare unfairness of it all, the bare loss. What really matters? What are the bare necessities of my life? Who am I without this person, this job, this dream, this pet? With time and introspection, we realize we are still holding on to the fruit, the buds are there for the next growing season, and the seeds have already been planted. We look at ourselves and recognize the shape of our being and the texture of our character. We hold on until we’re ready to let go. And the Light shines through.

Down the Road With Me

August 12, 2018 by Denise Brake 4 Comments

“An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.” –Henry David Thoreau

These past days have been the epitome of Summer—very warm, slightly humid, and sunny. But we are past full-on Summer; when we roll the calendar over to August, we see changes. The Ash trees have a tinge of yellow in places, Sumac and Poison Ivy leaves are turning red, Goldenrod is blooming gold, Crabgrass grows and goes to seed, and the noisy chatter of the House Wren no longer interrupts the sounds of the day. The mornings have been still—in movement and in sound. Into that stillness I walk with my pal Tamba—she limps now, groans when she lays down, has lumps and bumps, so I know that our twice-daily walks are numbered. Yet every morning she pulls herself up and eagerly heads down the road with me. I hear the low, melodic call of Mourning Doves, and instantly my mind transports me back to my Grandma and Grandpa’s farm. What amazing brains we have that we can time-travel when we hear or smell something! The stillness and humidity allow dew to form on everything during the cool night, and the morning sun freely transforms all into a treasure of shining gems.

The intense sunlight soon dries the dew, but the late summer flowers—Gray-headed Coneflower, Liatris, Sunflower, Purple Coneflower, and Allium—shine on in all their glory.

On the other end of the day, when dusk was settling around us, it was still quiet and calm. Tamba lay in the grass. We sat on the patio as the smokey sky turned the sun red. The setting sun streaked through the trees and shone on the rose-colored Joe Pye Weed and etched burning embers onto the live Oak trees.

Soon we heard noises in the woods—a Blue Jay was tapping on a branch with an occasional squawk. Then bigger noises—was it squirrels? It seemed too loud for squirrels. Then I saw a big tail in an Oak tree—a big, feathered tail. It was a turkey! Two mama Wild Turkeys and their chicks were flying from tree to tree. Wild Turkeys love acorns, and we wondered if they were eating the acorns from the trees since few have fallen to the ground yet. Like chickens, Wild Turkeys have a crop for storage of food and a gizzard where grinding of nuts and seeds occurs. When the mama flew to another tree, she and the chicks would cluck and chirp to one another and soon the little ones followed. At dusk, Turkeys fly up into trees to roost for the night for protection from predators like coyotes, foxes, skunks, and raccoons. Soon the turkeys in our trees settled down for the night. At dawn, they will fly down to the ground again to begin another day.

The sounds and sights of August, despite the heat and humidity, allude to the waning Summer and the upcoming Autumn. Summer in the North is indeed short and sweet. But Nature prepares us always for the transition. We are gathered up in the progression of time, seasons, and lives whether we are aware of it or not. Just as an early morning walk can tune us in to the blessings of a day, silent stillness can hone us in on those things in our lives that matter, that are important, that are the shining gems in our treasure box. One of those gems for me is a big, Black Lab dog who has walked with me for ten years now. Her transition time, our transition time, is nigh. Dusk is settling around us. And each day I am so very grateful to walk down the road with her, as we are, where we are, in all our glory.

Where is Your Winter Dwelling Place?

December 10, 2017 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

“For each new morning with its light, For rest and shelter of the night, For health and food, for love and friends, For everything Thy goodness sends.”

This prayer of thanks is attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson whose family celebrated an extended Thanksgiving with family, friends, feasting, and fun. Shelter and sustenance. Protection and nourishment. Dwelling place and daily bread.

When Winter comes, the importance of shelter and sustenance is magnified, not only for humans but for all creatures. Where are their dwelling places, and how do they get enough food to sustain them during the sometimes harsh conditions of snow-covered land and frigid temperatures? On our Thanksgiving trek to Warner Lake County Park, we passed a corn field with a flock of Trumpeter Swans grazing on left-over corn kernels. Their aquatic home is the Mississippi River, just miles north, where the warmth of a power plant keeps the River free from ice. Some swans and geese stay here for the winter, while most migrate to warmer places in the south. Do you migrate to a warm winter climate or hunker down in the frosty North in your toasty house? Do you have a preferred ‘winter’ food?

Animal homes come in all forms. We wondered what lived in these holes on the bank of a creek near Warner Lake. The burrowed home among cedar tree roots gave the resident critter quick access to the water. Where is your refuge from the elements? What environment gives you security and happiness?

Pileated Woodpecker holes in trees provide protection and nourishment for these hard-hitting birds as they search for insects and construct (destruct) nest holes. The holes they make in dead trees are often used for shelter by owls, bats, and pine martens. What is the source of your livelihood? How do you stay healthy?

As we walked through the pine forest on our trail, we saw little pathways of trampled-down pine needles diverging through the woods. What paths do you travel in your daily life?

In the sandy mud by the creek, we spotted a Raccoon track. Many of their meals are acquired in the water—crayfish, frogs, and insects. Raccoons store fat through summer and fall and spend much of their winter asleep in a den made in a tree or fallen log. How do you spend your winter? What do you do in this season of rest?

How do animals find their winter dwelling places? This tree probably had a small hole at its base, and some little creature has been working hard to make a home for itself. Sawdust and wood shavings line the floor of the tiny cavern at the foot of the large, moss-covered tree. Where is your dwelling place?

Life and nourishment are a little easier for the birds and squirrels who live close to our home. This Black Squirrel and his friends come for a meal of black-oil sunflower seeds on a near-daily basis. How do you ask for and receive your daily bread?

Our literal dwelling place may change completely in Winter, but most often the home we live in during the Summer is also our Winter home. But there is a change—we are boarded up, bound up, and bundled up. There is a quiet security in the dark evening with the fireplace crackling and throwing out heat, while a pot of soup on the stove sends out delicious smells of onions and herbs. Rest and sleep seem to come easier with the longer night, and the morning light is welcomed and appreciated. Nourishment is extended from food for our bodies to food for our souls. Time for reading, meditation, prayers, and self-care is available if we make the decision and commitment to ourselves. Time with friends is more about being than doing—tell me about your struggles, your joys, your sweet memories, and the dark burdens that may re-surface with the long, dark nights. We can wrap it all up in a bundle of understanding, compassion, and forgiveness. Our dwelling place can be Love.

The Things Our Eyes Can’t See

October 8, 2017 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

When I was in graduate school, I could get lost for hours looking into a microscope—looking at things our eyes can’t see—red and white blood cells, chromosomes, uric acid crystals in urine, sperm cells, and so many other incredible structures. It was a whole other fascinating world that we carry with us, that is us!

Our woodland Cooper’s Hawk flew to an Oak tree branch when I happened to be looking out the window. I know he saw me looking at him—in other words, he watched me like a hawk. He wasn’t too perturbed, as he sat there for quite a while, fluffed up his feathers, and continued watching.

Hawks and other raptors have excellent vision—they can see 4 to 5 times farther than humans, have superior color vision, and deeper foveas that allow their eyes to act like a telephoto lens. They need this acute vision to focus in on their prey from a great distance, then accurately capture it.

With our much more limited eyesight, we get a bigger picture of the world by moving our eyes and heads. We are capable of seeing the big picture and the details of things that are close by but often overlooked. The big picture of Autumn is the changing colors of the landscape, but I thought I would focus in on a more detailed look at Fall through the camera’s telephoto lens. The needle-like leaves of the Larch tree are changing to a golden yellow and will drop to the ground like a carpet.

Spiny seeds of Queen Anne’s Lace have begun their dispersal by wind or clinging to the fur, feather, or pantleg of a passerby.

Scarlet cones of Sumac berries top the equally beautiful crimson foliage and will remain as a food source for dozens of birds throughout the winter, long after the leaves have fallen.

Huge white puffs of ‘Annabelle’ Hydrangea flowers gradually dry to a rich, toasted brown color and can be brought indoors for a beautiful Fall decoration.

Individual seeds on the Purple Coneflower light up like pegs on a Lite-Brite screen.

Fast growing fungi popped up all over the yard after days of rain. Isn’t it incredible that such a strange structure, complete with unique colors and shapes, can grow so quickly then melt away to nothing?

Like a huge bouquet of tiny rosebuds, each ‘Autumn Joy’ Sedum flower spreads its namesake to all who see them.

Behold the first leaf to change from green to wine on one of the many ‘Nannyberry’ Vibernums we have planted in the woods.

Dried Fern fronds remind me of the racks of drying tobacco I remember from my childhood, that hung in Pennsylvania barns.

The lace cap flowers of ‘Quick Fire’ Hydrangea bloom a pure white and gradually turn pink as Summer wanes and Fall arrives.

Joe Pye Weed seedheads look like pink sheaves of wheat blowing in the breeze.

A tangle of plumy seedheads from a Purple Smoke tree is rarely noticed at this time of year.

The landscape of Fall is beautiful; the details of Autumn are intriguing, just as the landscape and microscopic details of our bodies are amazing. Though we don’t have the keen distance sight of a hawk, we do have the marvelous ability to see the big picture and the details, both literally and figuratively. But what happens when we are only focused on one certain thing?

The other objects in sight are rarely noticed or are distorted beyond reality. At times like this, a person’s world and vision gets small—when the focus of his sight and mind is singular and obsessive. It happens when a person is fighting for her life. It happens when despair covers a person like a cloak, and she seems to melt away to nothing. It happens when one is lost for hours, days, years in addiction. It happens when suffering people are unimportant compared to money. It happens every day. It is rare that a person in this situation can correct his vision on his own, let alone have the inner and outer resources to change his world. That’s where the rest of us come in, for if you think you live your life as an island, you are either a fool or delusional. We are our brothers’ keepers. Before that seems overwhelming or raises the hackles of defense, know that we are hard-wired as social creatures. We are meant to look out for one another. It starts with taking good care of ourselves, our partners and families, then our friends and community, our country, our Earth. Like a hawk, we can watch for despair or addiction, for suffering and injustice, and though we cannot do the inner work for the people affected, we can stand by their side and do what we can to assist them. We need to be able to help them see the big picture, yet work diligently with the details. And then there are the things our eyes can’t see—love, faith, hope, resiliency—that sustain us even when the material world has dried up and fallen away or been washed away in a flood. Behold!

Shifting Gears

September 24, 2017 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

We were still newlyweds when Chris taught me to drive a vehicle with a manual transmission. We had just bought a used 1981 Chevy C-10 1/2 ton pick-up truck. It was a bold red color—the only choice for a truck, according to Chris. The single cab and long bed (the standard back then) looked sleek and utilitarian and housed a ‘three on the tree’—a manual three-speed shifter on the steering wheel column! He drove us to a way-out-yonder gravel road north of Bates City where no extraneous traffic would interfere with my concentration, and then we switched places. He was a patient, methodical teacher, and I tried to be the good student that had carried me through all my years of schooling. But studying books and operating clutches are two different things! I don’t care to remember how many times I killed the engine before I even got going. There was gear grinding, bucking action, nervous laughter, and many “I’m sorrys” when I thought I was wrecking it. Trying to get the hand-foot timing down—letting off the gas, pushing in the clutch, moving the gear shift to the right position, then letting out the clutch slowly and giving it gas—was hard and frustrating. And how do you even get braking in there, too?

Fall is a time for shifting gears—luckily Mother Nature has done it more times than we know and does it smoothly and seamlessly. The growing, producing season is in decline; the fruits of that season are gathered or hanging heavily on the vine, ready for harvest. Internal systems in trees take their cues from the external world—length of daylight and temperature—to stop production of chlorophyll, which unmasks the carotenoids and anthocyanins that give leaves their fall colors and eventually causes the leaves to drop off.

Fall flowers provide needed nectar to insects that may be migrating, hibernating, or laying eggs for the last cycle before winter. One last hurrah of the repeat bloomer Stella D’Oro Lily entices a Monarch butterfly to linger and feed.

The beautiful ‘Fireworks’ Goldenrod attracts bees and wasps of all kinds.

Showy purple Asters bloom vibrantly as one of the late season stars of the perennial world.

A shift happens with the bird population. The summer birds have mostly migrated away—we no longer see the graceful swoops of the bluebirds or hear the incessant chatter of the house wrens. It is rather quiet on the bird front, though we heard a flock of geese just this morning. A quiet little guy visited the bird bath recently and seemed to be wondering where everybody else was also!

Spring fawns are losing their spots to a winter coat and are almost as big as their mothers. They are the reason we must be so diligent in guarding young trees and shrubs.

The male spotted fawn shifts to a ‘button buck’ as the pedicels form into small hair-covered bumps at 4-5 months of age that will grow into antlers next April or May.

With the patient tutelage of Chris and lots of practice, shifting gears with a manual transmission was soon second nature to me. The old ’81 Chevy was a stalwart worker for us for many years.

Fall not only shifts gears for plants and animals, but for us also. Some of us harvest and preserve food for winter. We start craving hot soups, pumpkin anything, and apple pie. We slowly and effortlessly morph from outside evening activities to reading or tv watching. Daylight and temperature influence our internal systems and our external choices, showing that we are an integral part of Nature that is often overlooked. Yet we also have a huge cortical brain that can override the more animal aspects of our existence. We can choose to shift gears! We can choose to migrate to a new place, choose to live in the way-out-yonder quietness or the busy bee metropolis. We can choose to be bold, choose our schooling, linger in darkness or seamlessly let our Light shine.

I Accept This Gift

August 7, 2016 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

I live with a person who finds it very difficult to accept the gift of a compliment. He will downplay his role in the experience or banter about the stars being aligned or me needing new glasses. I see the same tendencies at times in his brothers. I know their mama told them not to be prideful, for nobody likes a boastful person. Pride is at the top of the list of the seven deadly sins and is synonymous with conceit, egotism, and vanity. C. S. Lewis called pride ‘the spiritual cancer’ which blocks love, contentment, and even common sense. Yet pride has many definitions–from ‘a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority’ to ‘pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself’ or ‘the most flourishing state or period.’ The later two definitions sound like a good thing!

I took this photograph of a Dragonfly at the beginning of July. He rested on the Perennial Pink Salvia long enough for me to run back into the house for the camera. There are so many things I love about this picture–the see-through stained glass of his wings, the one brown patch near the tip of each wing, the long segmented tail, his huge, multifaceted eyes, and how he is holding the opening flower blossom with his legs. Dragonflies are carnivorous, eating their own body weight of gnats, flies, and mosquitoes in just thirty minutes! They fly forty-five miles per hour, can move in all six directions, can hover like a helicopter, and only flap their wings thirty times per minute (compared to 1000 times a minute for a housefly.) These acrobatic flyers need to keep their flight muscles warm, so will bask in the sun to warm up.

I’ve sat with this photograph for over a month now. It didn’t seem to fit in with anything else I was writing about–not even the Gleanings post. Then it came to me: this photo, this Dragonfly, was a gift! And my next thought was: I accept this gift! With great gratitude I contemplated capturing the images of deer, birds, the little fox, insects, flowers, trees, water, and all of Nature’s beauty as a gift to me that I can pass on to you.

Dragonflies symbolize change in the perspective of self-realization, change that has its source in the understanding of a deeper meaning of life. I’m glad Chris is not boastful or egotistic, as that kind of pride is destructive to relationships and prevents us from knowing the truth about ourselves. Yet I urge my humble husband to accept the gift of my compliments with a simple thank you, to feel the satisfaction and pleasure of it. How many gifts are all around us that we don’t perceive, receive, and accept? Whether it is a Dragonfly, Grace, a beautiful Lily, Mercy, a spotted Fawn, or Love, let us accept the gifts of our lives so that we may live in a most flourishing state of being.

The Middle

November 9, 2015 by Denise Brake 4 Comments

I’m not very good at beginnings–or endings for that matter–but I’m pretty dang good at the middle stuff. I think it’s because the beginnings and endings mean Change–with the capital C–and that just makes me nervous. Maybe it’s my perfectionist tendencies, my dread of loss–no matter what good thing is on the other side, or being a middle child…who knows? All I know is the middle part of our trip to Austin was wonderful!

Feeling my way through the darkness
Guided by a beating heart
I can’t tell where the journey will end
But I know where to start

We got settled in to a cute little casa we found on Airbnb. It was our first experience using Airbnb for a place to stay, and I was really happy we did it. We had room for the three generations of us, a kitchen for breakfast, and a backyard and patio for early morning tea and coffee. And then things got busy! We visited The Great Outdoors nursery that was tucked under huge Live Oak trees. It was crazy to see a nursery full of bedding plants in late October! We chose a cart full of flowering annuals and potted them up into hand-painted clay pots to decorate the wedding tables. A few more crafting projects were finished. People needed to be picked up from the airport. Two big boxes of cut flowers were snipped and put into buckets of water. Wedding party manicures, drinks, and supper. A run to Target and the craft store. Watching the Royals in the playoffs while sitting at an outdoor patio. An evening walk down the lively and strange downtown 6th Street.

They tell me I’m too young to understand
They say I’m caught up in a dream
Well life will pass me by if I don’t open up my eyes
Well that’s fine by me

Saturday was rehearsal at the venue, where we met our dear friend and former pastor who had traveled from South Dakota to perform the wedding ceremony. Afterwards we attended a delicious and beautiful luncheon hosted by the bride’s aunt and cousin at Green Pastures Restaurant–an amazing Victorian estate under old Live Oaks, enclosed by a fence of Bamboo hedges, complete with wandering peacocks.

After the luncheon it was back to the house to make bouquets. G-Lo, the bridesmaids, and I watched a Youtube video describing how to make a bridal bouquet, then got to work. Respect for the florist in the video grew as we clutched our handfuls of flowers and constructed our bouquets. I worked on the bride’s bouquet–weaving the flowers and grasses from each of her States with pink astilbe, wax flowers and dahlias, white stock, blush spray roses, burgundy leucodendron, upright amaranth, and hypericum, and blue forget-me-nots. It was a labor of love for my Love–just like the motherly duties I did every day of her and her siblings’ growing-up time. The bridesmaids impressed me with their willingness to tackle this task of love, to construct the fleeting symbols of beauty, abundance, and everlasting love. I appreciated their artistry, concentration, laughter, and support–not only in this effort, but in everything they did for their friend, the bride.

I tried carrying the weight of the world
But I only have two hands
I hope I get the chance to travel the world
But I don’t have any plans

After bouquets, we gathered at the Driskill Hotel, an elegant, old downtown hotel and bar built in the late 1800’s by cattle baron Jesse Driskill. Surrounded by western decor and with live music in the background, we greeted some of the guests who had arrived for the wedding. My plan to not-stay-late-because-we-all-have-to-get-up-early-for-the-big-day didn’t quite work out as intended, especially since I did not take into account the very long time it took to navigate downtown Saturday night traffic!

I wish that I could stay forever this young
Not afraid to close my eyes
Life’s a game made for everyone
And love is the prize

And then the Big Day! We were up early to make the couple of trips necessary to get all the flowers, people, games, beer kegs, decorations, etc. to the venue. Cedar Bend Events is about fifteen miles east of Austin in the countryside called the Lost Pines region. This thirteen mile strip of Loblolly Pine forest contains the Colorado River and is separated by one hundred miles from the related East Texas Piney Woods.

I was dressed and ready for the second transport to the venue. The busy days and late nights were beginning to catch up with me–my eyes stung a bit from my much-less-than-eight hours of sleep that I was used to, and my energy level was low, despite my morning cup of black tea and the excitement of the day ahead. And then Aloe Blacc came on the radio singing “Wake Me Up” from his album ‘Lift Your Spirit.’ If you know the song, it’s energizing–and I have liked it since I first heard it a couple of years ago. So I turned up the radio, sang along, and got energized and ready to enjoy every moment of the day!

Cedar Bend was beautiful! Colorful lanterns hung over the outdoor patio where the barnwood bar and cedar-log band shelter flanked the dance floor. The painted clay pots of flowers sat at the center of the round tables that were adorned with ivory tablecloths and burlap runners. Two colorful pinatas hung from a large tree branch, and yard games were scattered about in the large lawn, ready for after-wedding fun. By noon our beautiful bride and her handsome groom were married, the wedding guests were served chips and queso, breakfast tacos, fruit, and delicious wedding cupcakes. The bluegrass band played as everyone visited, laughed, drank Texas Shiner Cheer Beer and fruity mimosas, played games, took silly pictures at the photo booth, and celebrated Love!

The sweet beginnings of married life together! The dreamy honeymoon period! The wonderful fun of doing things with our partner! And soon enough we settle into the long middle part of our relationships. We really learn how to communicate with our partners, and often we learn the hard way. We may have children that will keep our lives busier and crazier than we ever suspected. We do our jobs–at home and away from home. We make friends and lose friends. We build our homes, plant our gardens, craft our creativity, go back to school, and serve our communities. We learn about betrayal, loss, death, and heartbreak. We experience creating a life, nurturing a life, and losing a life. We watch our love grow for our partners, and some of us watch our love wane. We become fierce in our protection of our children and of the world they will live in once we’re gone. Aloe Blacc scripts our human tendency to close our eyes to the tough things in life that present themselves to us in the middle part of our lives.

So wake me up when it’s all over
When I’m wiser and I’m older
All this time I was finding myself
And I didn’t know I was lost

But he also offers us the key to this long middle time of life–we are all lost–in one way or another–and all this time we are finding ourselves! So lay down the weight of the world, open your eyes, accept support, and bask in grace. We’re all in this game of life together–come play for Love!

To get energized, listen to ‘Wake Me Up’ written by Aloe Blacc, Tim Bergling, and Mike Einziger.

Photos by Emily Brake (Austin skyline, flowers), LAn (peacock, bouquets) and Jackie June.

Welcome to the Season of Preparation

September 23, 2015 by Denise Brake 2 Comments

Moving a household of five people after nine or twelve years in one spot takes some preparation. Even more so if one does not easily get rid of things from the past–“But I love this picture she did when she was four–remember how early she held a pencil just right?” or “This showcased her musical talent–she played it so easily when she was little” or ” These plastic snakes were his favorite things when he was three–we should keep them for grandkids.” So, we did this twice in our lives–and we still have the picture, the instrument, and the snakes. I was fairly good at the preparation–I loved the neat stacks of boxes that accumulated against the wall as the closets and cupboards emptied, and I even felt a swift satisfaction with the large give-away and throw-away piles. But as moving day was in sight, I would hit a wall. Like a stubborn horse who will not move forward, I would find myself sitting back on my haunches and stiffening my neck–all of a sudden, I didn’t want this to happen! My mental preparation hadn’t kept up with my physical preparation.

Of the four seasons, Fall is the season for preparation. Spring brings many changes as it tumbles into Summer, but it seems joyful and effortless. Autumn slowly, methodically prepares us for Winter. And with that preparation comes paradox. Harvest of apples, pumpkins, potatoes, carrots, beets, and squash showers us with abundance and food for the coming months while drying and dying vines and grasshopper-eaten leaves wither and eventually freeze.

Brilliant beautiful leaves inspire us and make us breathe deeply of the clear, crisp air–before they fall from the trees leaving bare branches and emptiness.

Animals prepare their nests, bodies, and food piles for Winter, and some become food for us.

Three months of waxing and waning, harvest and loss, work and rest, brilliance and decay.

Preparation–a proceeding, measure, or provision by which one prepares for something. Mother Nature prepares us, the animals, and the plants for Winter and all that comes with that in the North of North America. A proceeding, step by step, into the lenten season of dormancy.

My balking when the moves became inevitable illustrates my sudden realization of the losses I was about to incur–the loss of good friendships and family get-togethers, the loss of our home, jam-packed with memories of the kids growing up, the loss of every bit of work we did to make our place better than it was when we got there. My quarter-moon readiness illuminated the boxes and empty rooms, yet the darkened part, the side not seen, was not prepared and was struggling against what was to come. We work hard to prepare ourselves for certain things in our lives…and yet, sometimes, we just don’t get it all done. As my husband reminds me quite often, ‘You can only get ready for so long–pretty soon you have to leave.’ And we did leave–with loaded U-Hauls and vehicles stuffed to the brim, with tears and anticipation, with sadness and joy. The preparation carries us forward to what lies next. The time comes for us to lay our heartaches down (with all due respect to Emmylou), and we walk into the next Season of our Life.

Gleanings from June 2015

July 1, 2015 by Denise Brake Leave a Comment

And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever come perfect days….Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten. James Russell Lowell

The long, light days of June have slipped by, and we really have had some perfect days! The combination late Spring/early Summer brings warm, wonderful weather, incredible plant growth, exquisite flowers, and animals intent on nesting and raising their young. Life murmurs and glistens all around us, subtle yet extravagant, common yet miraculous.

Wild Geranium is a delicate woodland flower that graces the paths through our woods.

False dandelion grows in our woods, though I have also seen it in full sun along the road ditches. A cluster of small, dandelion-like flowers sways atop a two-foot stalk.

Our sun garden displays the glorious Penstemon digitalis ‘Husker Red’. It has dark maroon foliage and shining white flowers on tall stems. You can see why its common name is Beard tongue; the sterile stamen (one of five stamens) is lined with tufts of small hairs.

One of my prairie garden flowers–Amsonia or Bluestar–looks perfect in front of the wispy prairie grasses and the Western South Dakota petrified wood.

One of the critters that walked through our June yard was a Western Painted Turtle. She quickly ambled through the dewy grass until she saw me–then she stopped as I got pictures of her. She was likely on her way to her nesting place where she digs a hole with her hind feet and deposits her clutch of leathery white eggs. Incubation time is 72-80 days, and since we live so far north, the hatchlings stay in the nest until the following spring!

Tiny wild strawberries and our larger cultivated ones turn a shiny red in ripeness–a sweet treat for whoever finds them first.

Outside the screened-in porch, the chive blossoms line up like children at the schoolyard.

And speaking of the screened-in porch, my re-do project is on bird delay! A robin thought the unscreened cross beam would be a perfect place for her grass and mud nest. There are three hungry baby birds in the nest in spite of the sawing and hammering going on below. Staining and re-screening will have to wait until the young ones fly from the nest!

A couple of other creatures seemed to want a glimpse of human life inside the big wooden box with windows. I observe Nature every day–do we ever think about the creatures observing us?

All I can say to the little critters is that I definitely need to wash windows!

I liked this photo of Leopard’s Bane against the Norway Spruce tree. The flower is spent, on its way to decay with petals drying and falling off and with ants crawling on it. It is up against the supple new, green growth of the spruce tree. A study in contrasts.

But there is beauty in the ‘spentness’ of flowers, too. Dried blue blossoms of the pretty variegated Jacob’s Ladder reminds us that the bridge between heaven and earth includes the worn out and expended of us who are just a little farther along on our journey.

Perennial Blue Salvia in its ‘spent’ state provides food for a pair of American Goldfinches. It is in its prime time of nourishment for others, though its peak visual beauty is past.

So June encompasses the fresh, invigorated newness of plants, flowers, and creatures and also those in decline. Like all the seasons of Nature and of Life, change is always happening, whether barely discernible or a drastic metamorphosis.

Perhaps the rarity of a perfect day in June is not so rare after all. Perhaps every common day holds miracles waiting to be seen and heard. Where ever we are on our journey, whether ready to fly from the nest, in the perfect place, or in a spent state, we have gifts to offer the world and one another. As the murmur of angels ascending and descending beside us, escorts us on our journey, it is our faces that glisten on each perfect day.

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