shine and shadow

"Were not shine and shadow blent, As the gracious Master meant?-
Let us temper our content with his own..."
James Whitcomb Riley


Wading by lily pads...creation turned upside down by the waves, stark contrast to the green surface.


The lighthouse, took too many photos...waves crashing along it's rocky shore... navigational light needed most certainly there.

Where I may sit and write some day, near this window- at that table. Cabin of my dreams, the light on that table top...truly illuminating.


Grand Lake Stream and totem. How anyone was able to carry those rocks out there and position them in the rush of that water...and photo of a nameless lake, though the body of water remains unforgettable.



A beautiful though scary looking bug...harmless. And finally- an arbor in the mist of a morning. Sigh......

character building

Character building is the kind of arhitecture I have subscribed to all my life...sometimes, most times- unwillingly.

As the song goes, "I've seen fire and I've seen rain, I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end, I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend..."

I write today again of Maine. Of beauty, of spectacular vistas and splendid scenery, of people whom I've only just met, but genuinely feel akin to. I have met my match there in Maine, in more ways than one.

The rooftop up above...those are the character building places I visited, willingly... longing for such simple dimensions, living for each breathtaking moment- capturing all I could within a frame. What I could not carry home with me, I left for new days, possibly in the nearer future.

I have been churning, burning the midnight oil, farming and weeding, marketing and wondering if I could but possibly get one big toe up on the game here in central Illinois. I took the sabattical, the vacation- not so much for want, but for need. I needed a break. My head has been full of too many decisions, my heart aching for solitude, for beauty. There, in Maine- I found it. Or did it find me, calling to me over the years- to a central place of balance in all things? I cannot say for sure, but I do believe in love- and love is what I left there. Love, I hope to return too, live with, live for- some soon sweet day.

Beauregards Farm may just be downsizing, Down East. There, I said it. Many discussions have been flying all over the porch. Many questions, and this time- many answers. My family and I are ready for change. Oh my goodness what a big one! What an eye opener, a day maker- the compass we are now toiling with points East. College, seasides, lakes, rivers, oceans,new farm, breathing...openly embracing all these bold thoughts together.

The plan is developing, will post more on future directions. Take care-

mermaid ribbons

Good morning maties...how is the world outside your window? Mine is drenched in misty morning solitude. Even the sounds do not escape the encampment of September dew. Woke up earlier though to Peacock screaming, guineas sentry calls and a hawk just darn near teasing them all to death. I yelled at the big bird and off he flew. Peacock seemed offended, all puffed up-"Well I never, how uncivilized- why a fellow can't even enjoy his morning stroll!" That bird is a character.

Now for more memories of Maine.

Flew out there, breathed extra sighs of relief as I kayaked along water ways and lakeside rocky shores- the air is clear and fresh, pristine. If I ever need to be on pure oxygen, I'd probably just head out East and breathe again. And the sun shines not only on the rocky cliffs and lighthouse peaks but clear to the bottom of those pristine waters- the ripples reflect in the most wondrous light shows I've ever seen. So clear and bright- mesmerizing. The only sound comes from the dipping of one's oar into the surface of a lake, the water dripping like a percolator back into the swell. The loon's call haunts it's way clear down to your toes- but there is no fear to be found, the goosebumps come from some deep place inside your soul that had needed a wake up call, erupting a blood flow once again to your most inner spiritual muscles. Ahhhhhh, to have glided across that lake as the sea grasses below, like mermaid ribbons- gently caressed my vessel... don't know if I can ever fully awaken from that dream like state...I'm not sure I want to. Heavenly peace.

Take care-

rolling stone

Good morning each and every one of you who read this blog. This here blogger has been traveling...cheating on the posting, putting bits and pieces together before I left for?! I'll post some pics and see if anyone can tell by the beauty that I beheld each and every glorious day- just where I journeyed. No cheating those few who knew my destination...every picture will tell a story- each rock I turned over and around and marveled yet again at the distinct beauty of every formation on this good earth. Oh and the people! So kind, simple- land and sea loving. Don't they know how to have a good time, encircling me in their love of life. By all signs and weather beaten cedar shingles- it is a harsh life. But I could not tell this by a single soul I encountered. Their enthusiasm for life is hard won and my oh my do they ever celebrate the slightest win! Yep- never in my life have I visited such a place- even the old sea shacks were a character every one!

More to come...

Take care!

...don't it

"...I believe that the God of the world knows all

and some day will tell

the tale."

~Max Ehrmann

tells a story

".....though the night

around me

is falling..."

~In the Garden, hymn

every picture

Woods

"I part the out thrusting branches

and come in beneath

the blessed and the blessing trees.

Though I am silent

there is singing around me.

Though I am dark

there is vision around me.

Though I am heavy

there is flight around me."

~Wendell Berry

To September

Sunflowers bow-

bending at their brown

dried knees

no longer following

the sun

humbled now, they fade

Spiders busier-

by night they spin

sunrise casts first light

on their dew drop craft-

intricate lines

of deception

Birds and more birds

gather on lines and poles

like little feathered men

assembled in rows

something startles one

-off they all fly madly

Sun rise bothers not

to wake me these days

I am the one who shakes

to rise and shine-

a bucket of cracked corn

rattled like an alarm

As for the moon-

too early he rises

in a golden way

hypnotizing me,

early yawns follow-

triumphantly he glows

When sun and moon together

compress the day

between horizons

of awe and wonder-

daylight beaten,

I surrender...

To September.

by T.L. Starks 2008