My Dear Brave Knight

Bravely He set out to play

A questing Knight on a summer’s day

With rope he tied his wagon to the brightest daytime star

A rolled up map to guide him on his journey far

There were dots and dashes and so much more

X marked the spot of buried gems galore

The wagon was empty

The Knight hadn’t a care

Only to wander and to search

All that was out there

He discovered a stone from the castle of Arthur

An arrow from Robin Hood’s bow

Even the Captain’s hook that Peter took

When he was young and bold

And so many more besides them

At the very least forty and four times four

He marked the map with this and that

Each time to the wagon he added a prize

That very first X…

The one that marked the pirate’s private spot…

Soon it was hidden amongst so many others

And his wagon was heavy

With all he had collected along the way

And the Knight was lost

Surrounded by forest

In the heat of the summer

And nary a breeze

Only the hum of cicadas stirring the trees

With weary arms and downcast eyes

He paused for a spell

In the dragons shadow that long ago fell

Silence descended

What would He do

Dwarves and giants

Threatened his quest

The great unknown would never let him rest

A lone leaf from overhead

Drifted through the air

Coming to rest upon the ground

And with it a notion he discovered

A plan did now appear

His eyes burned with excitement

The fire he did not fear

He must climb the mountain

Search the horizon far and wide

And know the way that called to him

From somewhere deep inside

The map with all its marks was useless to him now

The wagon laden with objects of the past

Was nothing but a burden on this new journey that He faced

Each thing must be left behind like an X upon the parchment

If He would reach the pinnacle

And begin to find his truth

So, bravely He set out to play

A questing Knight on a summer’s day

One step at a time

His tired legs did climb

Leaving the map and the path…

Letting go…

Of the castle stone

…the mighty staff

…the protective cloak

And oh so very much more…

Until, at last he reached the very top

Looking over all the way that He had come

His wagon long empty now

Light as a feather in the fading sun…

Yet his heart was overflowing

Eyes open and searching below

As a smoky mist curled up high

Marking an X in the evening sky

There was the treasure!

So true and so prized

Heart racing wildly

He jumped in the wagon

Pushed off with his feet

He steered with great care

Down the face of the mountain

Quickly he sped….

As It all flew passed him

Every great moment

That lead to this one here and now

The darkest forest

…raging seas

….wisdom of silence

……..knowing breeze

Then…

His wagon slowed and stopped

Before the waiting door

Wide and joyfully it opened

To He…so brave…

And there waited She….

She who gathered him to herself

As the treasure that He was

In a sweet embrace

And a gentle kiss to his dirt smudged face

How I’ve missed you So

My dear brave knight

While you have been so long away

Tell me…

Wherever did you go

Whatever did you see

On this fine fine summer’s day

And He began to tell the tales

Of the beastly and magical moments won

As She listened and loved

And loved and listened

Well beyond the setting of the summer sun…

****

ellie894 December 18, 2018

koko

Last evening I walked the circle of sorts that I so often do. You know the one…dogs by my side… into the depth of the woods, across the gentle creek, careful not to catch on the barbed wire, meadow to my right, pond awaiting me…I wonder if it misses me when I am away as I do it…

I tucked my feet up under me to rest for a time upon the pier. I love that I can be away from sturdy ground for a while and yet so safe. The breeze was elsewhere and I was embraced instead by the stillness of dusk. The mirrored water was broken only once by the beaver swimming across to a new shore. Does he think of it that way – as a new shore. He was barely visible. Only the hint of his head could I see and the rippling V trailing behind him as he cut forth on his determined way.

His journey seemed smallish to me. From where I watched I could see the whole of it at once. He would easily manage it and something very good awaited him on the other side. To him though, it must have felt endless and without view. I know that place…unable to see, nevertheless…keeping on keeping on…

A bevy of doves kept close company, leaving no one behind. I looked that up so I would get it right for you. Doves in a group are called a bevy. I didn’t know. Come along now. Their ebony silhouettes searched for a nightly sanctuary as they cooed gracefully to one another…

Watching them brought to mind a tender moment from another day…

Above me a solitary hawk landed in the topmost branches of a tree. As he left the sky, he dropped a single feather. I stood mesmerized as it drifted softly through the air and I wondered at his letting go of it. I could not find it even though I searched. It disappeared before it came to ground. The gift was not in the having of the feather. The gift was in the being there. I needn’t hold the feather to cherish the lovely memory.

Real gifts are like that. They never reside in a box. They live and breathe in your heart.

Back at the lake sunset played with the clouds until they drifted on and left clear skies in places. I knew it was time for me to go. If I didn’t leave soon, I would lose the light. The woods are darkening then and all of the sounds sound just a little menacing…what was that…probably a squirrel settling in for the night but what if it wasn’t…

Once more the well trod path delivered me to the grassy expanse that I know so well. The sun was fading faster all the time. I love that hushed moment when day is stepping aside for night in quiet anticipation.

A lone bat skittered above me hunting for his breakfast while my own day was already beyond dinner. He moved quickly and was gone almost before I even knew he was there. How much of life flutters passed as I am busy with other living.

And just then…in the tallest pines behind the gentle oak…at the edge of field and night…owls…not one, not two…but three. Three! I have never heard three owls at once. A nearby screech stopped me in my tracks. It refused to give up as it shattered the silence, imploring me to hear. Certainly a nest and a very hungry baby were up there somewhere. There was nothing to see, but the air was brimming with the soulful sounds of the three of them. Who…echoed the parents…soon young hunger was satisfied. It only took their listening to know the answer.

It was enchanting to be there…another gift. It would never need shelf space or repair or dusting. Darkness overcame the moment. My footsteps lightly on the pine straw transported me closer to the safety of home all the time. The wise feathered keepers of the night followed me in gentle protection…and I am grateful…for the real of them…for the goodness of all I cannot see…for the gift of love that surrounds us all…for the magic that is once and always…everywhere…

****

ellie894 November 28, 2018

It’s always something…

Dogs do not sneak quietly into my life with built in good manners.

Misbehavior! Gasp! Say it isn’t so… First they are overly generous with their friendly greetings and not one of them is under 50 pounds. Then there’s jumping. Mostly they reserve that for me. It is no fun to have your feet swept out from under you so that one lands on unmentionable places with a dull thud. Last but not least there’s rough housing…with each other. That wouldn’t be so bad. I admit it does use up some of their endless energy. The dilemma is that they do it within inches of me. My smallish self becomes an unwilling participant in their romping games. Remember that dull thud I mentioned before. Yep, there we are again…

Yesterday afternoon I set out on a walk with Dobby on a leash – we are diligently working on good manners. Miss Ellie came too, not on a leash – she already has good manners. We three musketeers headed to the pond, as we do everyday. Ah, a lone mower was at work in the field. The dogs were content by my side but definitely curious about these happenings in what they consider “their” space. I could see their thoughts ticking away at the idea of a new friend!

He was preparing for this afternoon. There will be a couple hours of skeet shooting for out of town guests. Miss Ellie will be frightened by the sounds of the gunshots. She would never have made a hunting dog which is fine with me. Ellie will stay under my feet until the shooting stops. She likes it best when I take her to a large closet and turn on a loud fan to drown out the noise. I sit on the floor with her, crisscross applesauce and pet her gently until she calms and falls asleep.

It hurts me to see Ellie so afraid. She doesn’t understand. It’s a helpless feeling for both of us and all I can really do is be near so that she knows I’m there with her.

So, I veered from our usual walk on the north side. We reversed our footsteps and took the path to the south instead. Across the creek, through the young pines, onward and upward. At the top of the hill rests a very small very old cemetery…

I looked once….I looked twice…I looked three times… no doubt about it; there was a young bull inside of the cemetery!

My first thought was that there must be a break somewhere in the fence – I explored carefully. The chain link fence was completely in tact and the gate was quite closed. Hmm… He stared at us. We stared at him. All of us were perplexed at such a strange occurrence.

My second thought was to simply open the gate and let him out. I wasn’t afraid of him. But, after all he is not my bull. Perhaps he was separated from the herd temporarily for a reason that I didn’t know. You never know…

Meanwhile, a lovely milk chocolate brown cow wandered up to give us a verbal “what for”. She must be his mother. Now, whether she was admonishing us to go away or to open the gate and set her son free, I can’t be sure. There we all were locked in some sort of weird time warp event. No one in any danger. No one knowing quite what to do next.

Now came the phone call which began like this – hello, this is suzanne. I have rather an odd question… I heard light laughter on the other end and the phrase – it’s always something! The friendly lady said – thank you samantha, I’ll be right over to let him out. Yes, samantha. I guess on the phone on Wednesday afternoons suzanne sounds a lot like samantha. I’m good with that. It makes me think of Bewitched and what girl doesn’t want just a hint of magic in her days.

My musketeers and I continued on our walk content that help was on its way. Yet, I was left wondering of the young bull. However did he get in there. How long had he been trapped. I’ll say this much, the cemetery does Not need to be mowed. How long would it take a bull his size to clean up a grassy area that way. It’s a riddle I’ll probably never have an answer to…

I could have stubbornly kept on to the pond as I usually do and not ventured to the south. But, you know that feeling when something changes. You can’t quite explain it but, there it is. And you change with it… Maybe you ease into the changes or maybe you fight them. Either way, you find yourself on a hill next to a cemetery staring at a bull who needs you. Only five minutes ago you didn’t even know he existed. Now, he’s touched your heart and you are forever different for it…

I know…forever is a long time…but sometimes the biggest changes happen in the smallest moments…

I could write all day about what brought me to this one place in time. Every moment is that way though, built upon others before it; a single step on the winding way to an unknowable future. To be honest, there were storms on this path that I would have gladly done without. Nevertheless, there I am… learning from All of it…not just the good stuff.

Simple really… I walked a different way, saw a bull, made a phone call, the end. And yet, it stays with me. I still see him alone and helpless with no way out looking into my eyes…the key to his freedom as simple as a hand upon a gate.

At times in my life I am Ellie shivering with fear of what I don’t understand. Other times I am the bull alone and helpless…not seeing the gate…not knowing how to open it for myself. I am even the cow unable to communicate my heart’s desire. I hold all of these moments until I need them again, the lessons of them. I need reminding often.

When something lands softly before me or crashes, as something always does…to remember how it feels to be on the other side of the fence or to shiver in the unknown…to give from my heart with compassion and my hand in gentle kindness. I’m never only on one side or the other.

There will always be something and the answer will always be love.

****

ellie894 October 11, 2018

Trucks and Stuff

Nothin’ quite like an old red truck

To let the miles and the minutes slip away

Miss Foxy doesn’t have any seat belts

They weren’t a thing back then

And she doesn’t drive as fast as she used to

But there’s no hurry

We’ll get there when we do

Where is there?

Why, there is just there

Any old where!

As long as it’s just us two…

It’ll give me plenty of time to sing

As the wind lets loose my hair

And think the thoughts

The gentle ones about which I truly care…

Taught myself to drive standard in this very truck

And That, brings me Joy!

But…Miss Daisy is an altogether different tale.

There’s room in the front for me

Plus one more

Will it be the Juice Box or Dear Dobby do?

George Bilbo Bumpus got to go last time

Climb in

Scootch over now

More than that

No, you may not sit in my lap while I drive

Yes, I know my window is down

Here, let me get yours too

See, I knew it

You just wanted to hang your head out

Pretending you can fly

Your ears look funny when they flap like that

Don’t slobber on the other cars passing by

It’s not polite

The bed is empty now

as we venture forth into the day

We’ll fill it soon enough

With treasured memories that we make along the way

Or…if you get very very wet and dirty at the lake

I’ll put You back there

And not think twice about it

That’s right,

I most certainly would!

Sit still while I open the gate

I’m watching you

Keep your nosey nose out of those snacks

They’re for later

In the shade of that grand oak tree

You know the one,

His branches reach every which way

Gently and strong

Holding those who call him home

I know right?!

The bestest place ever

To drift into the sunset

And let all the warmth and color

Rest upon your face…

What do you mean, why didn’t I say so?

I just did!

Ok, ok, I’m ready too

No, we won’t miss it

We have all the time in the world…

Miss Foxy is warmed up now

Wanna go for a ride?

****

ellie894 September 28, 2018

the sleepy edge of the world

Darkest night waits outside the window. Morning doesn’t look like morning yet. Satie’s piano calls softly to my pen. The feel of it is as easing to my heart as my gray dress is to my skin. In my china cup the tea leaves born in distant lands come to vibrant life and warm me through. A flame licks at the coolness from the confines of the yellow glass scenting the air with wild honey. It intrigues me so… and I wonder…

Where do I belong in this sleepy edge of the world…

Here at the kitchen island…far away across the sea…soaring a vast blue sky…peacefully amongst the stars…

I am in all of those places because they are all within me. It is only that I must remember to visit them. One needn’t go far by foot to be far in thought. You may go to the stars as often as you like, drift and dream and linger.

You may dance upon the crested wave in time with the universe. Sailors will gaze into the dawning light and smile to see you there and catch themselves swaying to the rhythm of your soul.

You may float the sky so that those who journey far below will stop and wonder at how gently you fly. You lift their eye and their heart follows. They take their own next step because they’ve caught the feather of your hope and seen for a moment…joy.

Each time you travel the wild places alone you somehow take others with you, show them something new, whisper in their ear, gift them with hope…

They follow and reach out to touch you because there is a blush of forever upon your cheek and they yearn to feel the warmth of it.

I wish that I could recall my dreams. Perhaps I do when I write of wings and oceans and heartbeats. Perhaps even in not recalling…I remember…

So much happens to you in a lifetime. Where does it all go to wait for you to catch up. Or do you not need to catch up. Are you only called to be here…

I am in a kitchen

Listening to a piano

Watching a flame

Smelling warm honey

Tasting tea leaves

From far off lands

My senses caressed

And my heart beating

One precious note at a time

Into the wildness

Of far away places

That are as close as

My own dear thoughts

I am the music and the dance

I am the ocean and the wing

I am the darkness and the light

Will you soar with me to unknown places

Will you take my hand and kiss my cheek

Will you follow me in the silence of my simple steps

And lay with me among the shining stars

Let now be now

And let always be forever ours…

****

ellie894 September 4, 2018

listening to Once Upon a Time in Paris by Erik Satie

Beauty Between Dreams

In fairy tales and dreams we bestow things with life! The most delicate flower and the most grizzled bear take on a contentment or a sorrow that mirrors our own. We cry and laugh with them, as we see ourselves.

I love this spot, just here, where the meadow gives way to the forest. On a hot summer day it offers the respite of cool shade. In the midst of rain it promises shelter. In moments of despair it is safe to let go of my tears. And, in times of sheer joy…I dance as the faeries do…unseen, unbidden, and all the more brilliant for it…

See the timbers lining either side of the path drawing you forward. They have been waiting in that same spot for a long time now. At least three seasons have come and gone. I don’t recall the first day they came to be here. But I do remember wondering why. I decided they were probably meant for the pier, some freshening up.

Winter covered them in a pristine blanket of snow. Spring burst forth with flowers in every hue darting up between them. Summer days are still upon us, dusty and hot and buzzing with dragonflies. The timbers wait. The pier waits. And so, of course my thoughts turn to waiting.

How much of our life do we spend in waiting…all of it, really. I imagine there are a few dear souls that embrace the now so completely that they are exempt from the waiting that fills my days and nights. I have much to learn from them.

As I think again of the timbers, I giggle. To write that they are waiting somehow gives them character and personality. How often do we do that as well, imbue life and voice to things that cannot speak for themselves. Don’t get me started on Toy Story 3! I will absolutely not go there!

When I was a very little girl I had a beloved Raggedy Ann doll. She had shiny black eyes under triangle lashes and hidden beneath her calico dress was a red heart in just the right place that declared…I love you… I never went to sleep without her tucked securely into the crook of my arm, hugged tightly against me.

I imagined that she waited for me as well. When I was away she rested on my pillow ready to greet me with a smile upon my return. I always did return. I loved her so long and so hard that her face began to wear away. I can still see the blue threads underneath. I grew afraid to hold her…that my love would cause her harm…

My dear Mimi came to the rescue with a gentle and skilled hand. The waiting was awful! But soon enough Raggedy and I were back to our nightly snuggles.

Ellie and Jack, Bo and Dobby watch my every move with eager anticipation. Keys mean that I’m leaving them behind. A resigned sadness seems to descend on them that makes me want to stay. Whereas, phone in my back pocket and earbuds nearly drives them through the roof with excitement! Shoes tied…check. Bag of bread…check. Little white rectangle box…aka phone…check. Long white chord attached to ears…we don’t really get it but…it’s something she seems to like…so…check! Aargh! We’re going walking! Right this second! Jaw in paw waiting…all worth it!

A few weeks ago I dreamed of a time and a place spent in a brilliant pause before what would come next. I was taken ahead not left behind. It was the sort of dream that leaves me wishing that I could photograph the images that light up my own night sky. Perhaps I’ll play with my words until I get it all just so and share it…but for now it isn’t ready…

It’s not a bad thing. A thousand times before it has been written – we live in the waiting.

Some waiting is so much harder than others it seems. Maybe. We fight at it instead of resting in it. I don’t know what it is that you wait for…

the reassuring smile of your beloved…

cookies warm from the oven…

the tiniest egg to hatch with new life…

your train to arrive…

a glass of wine to be shared…

the gate to open wide before your eager paws…

a sigh of grateful relief…

rain to fall or skies to clear…

sweet news from afar…

the melody of song to fill your heart…

your best friend to be repaired…

or simply the next breath to come…

Ever so gently and quietly beauty waits for us as we dance between dreams and responsibilities.

In the brightness of a summer day when the stars have gone to shine elsewhere, will you wait with me in the cool shade of a grand and silent tree…

In the darkness of a winter night when the sun burns far away, will you wait with me in the glow of a warm and crackling fire…

In the heart of waiting there is love…always, there is love…

Will you wait with me…

****

ellie894 August 2018

Thank you to my dear friend G for the photograph of the train station in loving memory of my father.

long lemonade days…

I was awake for a long while in the night, traveling my thoughts…

When I finally fell into sleep I found myself nearly a part of the sky. I swayed with the motion of the air, a vast ocean waiting so very far below to catch me if I should tumble…and rock me amongst the cresting waves…

So it is that I am tired and a little lost in the cool woods this morning. They wrap around me gently, rather like a long hoped for embrace…a well worn path, the sandy spots full of ant lion funnels, and the alcove where the creek begins to form the lake from a spring that truly never ends…

It took me three rounds before Jack and Bo would settle enough to sit and wonder at lakeside. It is cooler than it should be for the first of August in Texas! I will just be grateful. Very grateful… There are at least two more months of heat ahead.

I am ever so sad when the words don’t come…when they float just out of reach so that I cannot quite gather them…or they hide altogether, crushed under last year’s leaves.

The birds are not singing. Perhaps they are as parched and quiet as I am. The flowers have disappeared as the dry days follow one upon another. August has arrived to simmer and stew all once more, in the laziness of iced tea and long lemonade days spent in the shady rhythm of a back porch swing.

I lift my eyes to the shelter of the pines and beyond them to the blue that begs to be explored. Softness cradles my heart. I love the way morning sun catches in a spider’s web making it glisten with the magic of a day yet to be lived and a night left behind in shadow.

Later it may all give way to a whispered breeze that breaks the silence of a hot afternoon. The ice gladly melts, leaving trails of abandoned moisture to race upon the clear cold glass.

And so, my thoughts turn to tales as they so often do…there is something special about August reading though…to abandon oneself to a story well told, captivating in every detail. When the cicadas hum and buzz in sleepy cadence and the birds cannot bring themselves to share… I want to listen… I want to still my heart and soul… I want to read…to get lost in reading…

I revel in precious books I’ve held a thousand times! Their worded treasure has become a part of me. And yet, the adventure of the new beckons me forth to the cliff’s edge…let go of the jagged rocks he calls! Take to the sky she echoes… take to the sky… and discover your wings…

And, what of love you ask…where does it reside in the dog days of summer…where it will I suppose…as love always finds a way…just as the light catches in the simplest of places to give the promise of something more…so too does love…to sweeten the lemonade and frost the glass…and just when you think you can’t take another sweltering moment…

the breeze stirs from across the water and within your heart…sending ripples of hope right through to the edges of you…where day dawns and night falls and you sail into the horizon of your sweetest dreams…come true…

****

ellie894 August 1, 2018

Miss Ellie Wishes ….

We are on morning walk just now…

My very own Royal We 🙂

There are six of Us.

Five nosey noses.

Five eager tails.

Ten floppy ears.

Twenty! Count them Twenty muddy exploring paws!

And…me…

The air is more gentle than it has been in weeks, a gift to be certain.

The light is stunning and graceful falling through the trees.

My finned friends circle and churn the once still water below the pier.

I wonder if they remember me, anticipating the morning offering I bring each day.

I have no idea what this day will bring, to my doorstep or to my heart…

But, for now, in this one moment there is a sweet hope…

That all shall be well…

Miss Ellie wishes each of you a brilliant day!

suzanne❤️

somehow…

Some days,

life is not at all what I thought it would be

Some days,

it is so very much more than I could ever have imagined

All my quiet heart can do

Is to take this one day

That lays sweetly before me

And gently cover it with love

Hoping…

That somehow

It will be a touch more beautiful

For someone

Somewhere…

****

ellie894 June 2018

www.true…

As we set out upon our way the very air is charged with excitement!

The scenery is fresh and new despite a hundred walks before…

A dozen scents distract my lelephants…giving me the chance…for once…to arrive at water’s edge…alone…

What should I find?!

Miss turtle well upon the shore. How she must have trudged through muck and weeds to score.

Even now, paws thunder quickly towards us! No time to lose…must act fast…

I gather her up, my hands on either side, whereupon she disappears into her always home. Hurry now, they’re coming!

I carry her before me out along the pier. Kneeling, I set her softly on the water. Promptly she emerges from the safety of her shell, frightened…and swims away…

I imagine a breathless, thank you, popping from the bubble she leaves behind…

All at once, Monsieur le Jacques and Dear Dobby do Right, fly out to greet me! Halting at my side in consternation…

Whatever have you been up to without our trusty selves?

Well, if you must know…I have quite recently saved Miss Greta…from your own brand of torment disguised as playfulness…

Who us? – they query wide eyed with disbelief.

Yes, from you my loves – I reply with a giggle.

Suddenly…

The wild whispering wind…www.true…stirs from the West…one moment, one life, one love…

Welcome it blows against my cheek dropping wisps of hair so I cannot see…

As I put them gently back in place…I look around to find…all are gone once again…safe in the depths…off on adventure…

and I am adrift in the loving caress of the breeze…

****

ellie894 May 2018