Redwoods & Snow

There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature - the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.

— Rachel Carson

"I love your gratitude practice and all that you have shared through it. It has been uplifting and inspiring." — Crystal

"I continue in amazement with each of your daily offerings, they are so wonderful, inspiring and fun. Thank you so very much for sharing so freely and openly. You have such a knack for picking just the right quote and poem — divinely guided and you’re relaxed enough to listen and act. Lovely, just lovely. Thank you again and again." — Peter

"I love your gratitude practice and all that you have shared through it. It has been uplifting and inspiring." — Crystal

 

"I continue in amazement with each of your daily offerings, they are so wonderful, inspiring and fun. Thank you so very much for sharing so freely and openly. You have such a knack for picking just the right quote and poem — divinely guided and you’re relaxed enough to listen and act. Lovely, just lovely. Thank you again and again." — Peter

Redwoods & Snow is a daily practice of gratitude to accompany you through the year.

Receive inspiration and have gratitude every day! A delightful quote, my daily gratitudes, a mindful poem, and a photo from everyday life are included in this members only list. Recipients choose to notice their own grateful hearts in private, share their gratitudes with a trusted person in their lives, or email their gratitudes to me. I happily respond to all gratitudes I receive. In all of these ways, the practice of being grateful is shared throughout the world.

Register for Redwoods & Snow through Patreon. After you become a patron (monthly or one time contributions are available), you will be added to the daily gratitude list. You may begin receiving and participating in gratitude today!

Two purple spring crocuses growing toward the light.

Happy Spring!

Sunday, March 20, 2022

🌲❄️🌲❄️🌲❄️🌲

... isn’t play the way we get limbered up for the work of the world?

- Robin Wall Kimmerer

🌲❄️🌲❄️🌲❄️🌲

Today, I feel grateful for...

1) outdoor time with Todd and Storm in our forest where I became enchanted by a fallen, living tree. All I wanted to do was climb it and explore it. The tree was horizontal, roots upturned, yet it was still alive. Its bark was fresh with the recent rainfall, and I allowed myself to become barefoot and balancing... eventually lying down upon this tree friend and resting. I could feel the back of my heart relax with nature's love.

2) a peaceful family day with good food, games, and re-exploring each other's love languages.

3) continued contact with my friend, Lena, in Ukraine.

Thank you for sharing this practice with me,
💙 Rain

Such Singing in the Wild Branches

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves—
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness—
and that's when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree—
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last

for more than a few moments.
It's one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you've been there,
you're there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

 

~ Mary Oliver