Winter Wings

 The winter woods seem empty but there is feathered movement between the branches. Greys and greens are suddenly broken by a rusty smudge as a chickadee swings close with crackling curiosity.




He is like a lit match in the gloom. So much intensity in one small creature. Winter does not phase the chickadee. Impervious to cold snaps and icy winds, he forages in the same exuberant manner as though on a summer day.


A  bright eye watches me watching and I witness the eternal spark of spirit in an adornment of feathers.


(from my newsletter: Earthshine)

Winter Twilight Blues



Ultramarine, sapphire, indigo, cyan, amethyst, violet.  Velvety and rich, these colours arrive in that magical moment when the rotation of the planet holds light  between the day and the night. It is that moment of the day when we get a chance to be steeped like raw material in this vat of twilight dye...

(Excerpt from the January Newsletter: Earthshine, an inspiring e-letter of nature, art and more.)


Mapping Your Winter Star

Light pollution. It's everywhere. We can no longer see  the stars overhead, from where we came, of what we are made. The stars stretch out across the bowl of the night sky, turning, charting, keeping time and rhythm but we can no longer see them. Fainter and fainter grow the stars and so too our eyes grow dim as we can no longer see our map and we can not remember in what direction to sail our ship.


star lines - watercolourWhen we are outside at night and look to the stars, it allows our own dreams and thoughts to expand, to ignite and to finally coalesce and fall back to Earth. These shooting stars we see are truly our own dreams falling back to us.


So. It is important to look up. Look up when the cold winter air makes the stars shimmer. Look up at the end of day when you get out of your car. Look up when you let the dog out before bed, or look up even if it is just through your window. Pick a star and track it through the month of January. Where in the sky is it? At what time? To reconnect to the movement of the heavens is to reconnect to the eternity of nature and ultimately to reconnect to the eternal nature of self.

(from the newsletter)

On The Teachings of Winter Trees

I promise that if you bundle up this winter and walk your daily walk, the winter trees will teach you more in this season than in any other season.

A winter tree has presence. The eye can not pass over the homogenous blur of summer green. Those of you who walk your winter walk, know this. Gone is the soft green dress of leaves and instead there is the starkness of limb and branch. The winter tree has character. This one, a double trunk, this one, a broken leader, and that one and undulating bend that brushes the ground.

Winter trees draw you closer in an intimate relationship. As your eye gazes at their texture and colour, the winter trees become familiar. Pearly greys, hazy greens, slick and smooth, textured and lichened. We come to know these trees, and we come to a knowing of trees and how they move in this world.

And we come to know where we stand, how we walk, and how we move through our small corner of the Earth. Our daily walk with winter trees rehabilitates us to our sense of place. We become engaged to the world around us.

So before deciding that this winter will be like every winter, a time of curling up and waiting for spring, bundle up and greet your winter trees and walk with them. They have many teachings to share.