Saturday, January 7, 2012

Seventh Small Stone: Rosemary Synchrony

Only the top branches of the rosemary are sunlit.  Three of them make the same down-up swoop with their reaching tips.  A whiff of fresh rosemary rises in the still air.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Sixth Small Stone: River mist

Triplets of golden globes glow on slender stalks along the walkway beside the quiet Columbia River, emerging from the fog and disappearing as we approach and pass by.

Fifth Small Stone, Framed Fir

Hi friends of reading and writing,
I was away in Portland for a couple of days, just flew back this morning.  Yesterday, I wrote my small stone but could not post it because the hotel's public computer was down.  So here it is:

Next to my hotel room, the big two-story window frames a Douglas fir, richly green against the fog, condensing mist that it drips from the tips of its boughs.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Avian Return, small stone 4

Outside my back door, I hear buzz-whistle, buzz-whistle, cheater-cheater-cheater, o-a-hu, cheer-cheer-cheer, chip-chip-chip.  The mockingbird is back from his winter vacation south of here.  Maybe his mate will come soon.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Constellation of limes, Laura's 3rd small stone

A constellation of seven yellow limes rests on dark green grass while others barely hold onto the tree.

Consider joining me to write a small stone, an intense experience, each day in January.  Go to Writing Our Way Home site FMI.  

Monday, January 2, 2012

Stripes on the Grass, Laura's 2nd Small Stone

The sun behind the fence stripes the grass with dark and light green.  In the shadow by the fence, six light grey, round rocks wait for their turn in the sunlight.  The rosemary reaches high and shines out with golden green, already spotlighted.  I smell its aroma on the light breeze.

Enjoy your own moment of intense mindfulness each day in January; scroll down to find the January Small Stones information.    Cheers,  Laura

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Small Stone #1 from Laura

Warm air is rising outside my front door, with a grassy smell,  and I see one red and one yellow rose blooming, raised high on the tops of spindly stalks like the statue of liberty's torch.