Today

On such a day as this,

when the air is drenched with honeysuckle breath...

when daisies gather sunny-side-up...

and the sun smiles on Barley...

while a rabbit watches from the weeds...

when purple coneflowers toss their hair in the breeze...

Would it be possible to touch a cloud...

to lend a hand...

to forgive a wrong?

Would it be possible on a rainy day?

Would it be possible today?






Linking with Tuesday Muse

Snow!

Now that it's finally spring, the snow that held back all winter fell Thursday afternoon,

texturing everything with a swirling annimation of large flakes.  

We woke Friday morning to a new vista, pristine and white.

Barley, though eager for his walk, was content to wait while I took a few pictures. 

 Snow whitewashed the tree trunks...

capped the fence posts...

and bowed the limbs to form a canopy over our path through the woods.

At the pond, all was quiet...

 and on the hillside...

there was one very happy dog.

Linking with Rurality Blog Hop
and Camera Critters

Hopeful

One small hyacinth is blooming in our yard.

Barley's not the only one who hopes that means Spring is on the way.

Linking with Camera Critters

Metamorphosis

When Barley came to us at the age of four, he wore the internal scars of neglect and abuse. The first time we walked in the woods together, he hung close to my side.  Where the path turned, I stopped, supposing that he would want to explore, but instead he sat down and watched me, waiting for the next move.  The concept of freedom can take a while to get ahold of.

In the weeks and months that followed, little by little, Barley's confidence increased, and now he owns the woods.  He examines the new scents along the way, marks the area to establish his dominance, drags back disgusting bones, and rolls in things that stink.  Now he's almost eight, and he knows he's a real dog.    

We heard Barley bark for the first time 83 days after he came to us, and now he does it when a stranger comes to visit, just a few deep, loud, protective barks, until he's sure we have the situation in hand.

One thing hasn't changed on our walks--he's always glad to head back to the house.
The only difference is, now, when he gets there... he knows he's home.

For the moving pictures, I referred to this excellent tutorial by Georgia B.

Linking with Weekly Top Shot
Communal Global
and Camera Critters

Barley's Bliss

On this balmy day,

bright and breezy,

Barley has a new bone.

What bliss!



Linking with Camera Critters

Barley Gets His Bounce Back

There's something nice about late fall. 

The landscape, exhausted from the exuberance of spring, 

and the productivity of summer,

 has donned its tawny nightgown, and lounges on the couch.

 Oak leaves, despite their tatters, still cling tenaciously to the trees...

and mullein leaves, tired of supporting tall flower stalks,

crumple like wrung out dishrags on the ground.

Barley loves this time of year;

the cooler air puts a new spring in his feet,

and makes him eager to explore.

Winterberry trees brings a touch of color to the earth.

The birds eat the berries, 

posing as living Christmas cards, 

and remind us that it won't be fall for long.

"As long as the earth endures,

seedtime and harvest,

cold and heat,

summer and winter,

day and night will never cease."

Genesis 8:22

Thanks to Leslie Nicole for the texture, Opaline.

Linking with Weekly Top Shot
and Camera Critters

Barley's Bone

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Guest Post by Barley Smiley

I got a new bone last week. 

I have no idea where I put my last one, 

but it's been lost for longer than I can remember.

Don and Connie noticed that I was a little blue about it, so they got me a new one.

I moved to this place when I was four, and I'd never had a bone of my own before,

so when I got my first one, it was a pretty big deal. 

I carried it around with me for about a year, until it was just right, 

and then, one day, I ate it.  

I don't want to lose this one, even if I have to guard it in my sleep.

As long as it's left alone, nobody gets hurt.

Don feeds me early in the morning, and then I go to wake Connie up. 

 She reaches out in the dark to stroke my silky ears, 

and then she feels down to my mouth, 

and there, sure enough, is my bone.  

Now really, where else would it be?

Linking with Little Things Thursdays,
 Camera Critters
and Your Sunday Best

A Walk with Barley

Won't you walk with us this morning?  Connie and I would like your company. 

We head down the driveway, and a wild turkey scrambles into the brush.  

Through the trees, we catch a glimpse of a large bird in full retreat.  

A squirrel hustles away, and we are left with the flowers.  

At least they don't run.

The morning air is heavy with the fragrance of honeysuckle, 

which grows wild on the roadside.

Patches of sunlight shift through the ox-eye daisies.

Please excuse me while I drink some dew from the grass. 

It's so good that way.

Why don't humans ever do that?

We meet up with my cousin dog, Sparky.

Isn't she cute?

Well, we'd better get back.

I've got some serious napping to do.

Thanks for joining us.





Linking with Rural Thursday
and Camera Critters.

Wet Weather Creek

It's been a rainy week, 

culminating last night in lightning and bowling ball thunder, 

and rivers of rain rolling from the sky.

In the middle of the night, I reached down to the side of the bed, 

and sure enough, there was Barley, tucked close, in his place of shelter,

This morning we walked to the hollow, and before we were half way down,

 we could hear the sound of water.  

Trickles along the path flowed into small streams and waterfalls, 

dripping off mossy rocks, and singing as they went.  

They gathered in the bottom for a chorus of praise.

In a calm pool in the bend of the creek, 

Barley lowered himself slowly into the chilly water and took a drink.

Rue Amemone

On the way back, we passed wildflowers, those jewels of the woods, 

rue anemone, wild sweet William, violet wood sorrel.

Violet Wood Sorrel

All of this is fleeting--the wet weather creek, the fading flowers--

even Barley's shelter in the storm.

  

But today I'm grateful for something permanent--

the shelter that is always available in Jesus, 

and His living water, that never fails to flow.

For He will conceal me in His shelter in the day of adversity;

He will hide me under the cover of His tent;

He will set me high on a rock.

Psalm 27:5

Whoever is thirsty, let him come;

and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.

Revelation 22:17

Heaven and the Ice Storm

2009

2012

On a recent frosty morning, Barley and I set out on our usual morning walk through the woods, Barley with his stick, me with my Nikon.  Barley is always searching for bones as I look for beauty, but on that particular morning, it was hard to look past the effects of the ice storm of January 27, 2009.  Beginning that night, three years ago, a large swath of country, from Missouri and Arkansas east, was gripped by its effects, with downed trees and power outages, which lasted in some places for as long as a month.  

2012

Before that time, I had never thought of ice as being devastating, but all that night, with over 3/4 inch of ice coating everything, large branches and trees fell to the ground, shattering with a sound like gunshots.

2009

The view from our windows the next morning was chilling, and the ground around the house was a maze of broken trees and branches.  It took months to get our grounds cleaned up. Since that time we've reclaimed a few trails through the woods, but we won't live long enough to clean up all the woods on this acreage.

Now, after all this time, the devastation in the woods is not too obvious in the summer, when leaves cover some of the damage, or at least draw the attention away, but in the winter, it can look pretty stark.  I usually point my camera away from this rubble, or crop it out, because there is always some beauty to be found.

I'm not saying this to elicit sympathy, but rather to inject a dose of reality into my sometimes rosy look at the world.  After all, we all see ugliness, in one form or another, and we deal with it in various ways.

Along with the ground nesting wildlife, and, of course, the termites and spiders, I'm growing to appreciate this old, battered woods, because it reminds me that ultimately, my hope doesn't lie in this world.  Those broken trees waken that longing in me for the place Jesus promised to those who love Him, where:

...there will be no more death, or mourning, or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.  Rev. 21:4

Your eyes will see the King in His beauty, and view a land that stretches afar. There the Lord will be our Mighty One; it will be a place of broad rivers and streams.  Isaiah 33:17, 20

 "I am going to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." John 14:2, 3

Back down to earth on that particular day, we followed the trail to a quiet, grassy opening in the woods, rimmed by cedars.  There, the ground is rocky; no trees have found a foothold. But Barley found a bone.

You could say that I found beauty that day, too, but not just the kind we see with our eyes.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,

but on what is unseen.

For what is seen is temporary,

but what is unseen is eternal.

2 Corinthians 4:18 

Linking with Deep Roots at Home
and This or That Thursday