“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature – trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence… We need silence to be able to touch souls.”
(Mother Teresa)
There are those who seek their god inside a building each Sunday morning; sharing pomp, circumstance, and ritual with those of like mind. Me? I prefer to go straight to the source for my spiritual solace, and of late it’s been a visit to a local nature preserve.
Being out in open, wild space as the day dawns, with a bit of old forest wrapping around like a cloak soon to be opened by the growing light to reveal secrets both feathered and furred, is a deeply satisfying experience. Even if it’s hard to tear my Self away from the warm bed and much-needed sleep, and even, like this past Sunday morning, if the temperature hovers near the freezing point.
Most such mornings bring a plethora of joys to my eyes and camera. Nature’s alarm clock rings with the cries of the geese as they lift off loudly in concert with the first rays of the sun, and we often see the deer as they cautiously make their way to bed down away from the prying eyes of other, disrespectful humans and their barking, running-loose dogs. There are the occasional mornings, though, when all remains strangely silent. This time there was only one lone and enormous owl that glided silently past the meadow-edge trees and headed into the deep woods; it appeared and then disappeared so fast there was no time to aim the camera and shoot, only to marvel at such a first-ever sight.
We soon ended up in our favorite spot, at the top of the meadow near the edge of the woods, marked by one enormous, old fallen tree. It is a favorite resting spot for most of the preserve’s feathered denizens and affords a clear view of the deer paths. On quiet summer mornings, it is enough to just be there; the smells and sounds are a soothing comfort that bring balance back to this city-weary soul. At mid-fall, however, there isn’t enough long underwear or warm enough boots to make up for a lack of activity and after only an hour I was quite ready to call it quits and head back to our cozy home in the ‘hood.
And though I tried mightily, I was able to come up with only one shot:
It didn’t seem fair, especially since our last visit found us smack in the middle of a whole flock of cedar waxwings taking advantage of the final fall feast of berries:
As is par for the course, shortly after arriving back home the usual suspects in fur coats were all over the backyard and I took advantage of it to capture a portrait of Titan, one of the orphans raised here last spring, now on his own:
Oh gads, PJ…if I could take photographs as well as you do, I would have no problem decorating the barren walls of this house.