Standing on the Banks of the Cheakamus River

Reciting poetry in nature is an extraordinary experience. Perhaps it is the way that words sound when surrounded by the noise and vibrations of the outdoors. Words resonate and energize the spirit when spoken out loud, carried by the wind into the unknown.  Words carried by the wind into the unknown. This summer, we attendedContinue reading “Standing on the Banks of the Cheakamus River”

The Drowsy World Dreams On

Welcome to Sunday Evening Reflection. Tonight I want to introduce the poet, Walter Everette Hawkins, who was born around 1888 in North Carolina. He is the author of Chords and Discords (The Gorham Press, 1920). While his career was as a mail clerk in the post office of the City of Washington, he is known and rememberedContinue reading “The Drowsy World Dreams On”

Walking in Nature with Myra Viola Wilds

This past week, I discovered the poet, Myra Viola Wilds, when her poem “Thoughts” came flying into my inbox. This is the poem that came to me as I walked a forest path on Burnaby Mountain. I find that walking in nature is a form of meditation that encourages reflection. It is a time forContinue reading “Walking in Nature with Myra Viola Wilds”

A Light Exists in Spring

Happy Mother’s Day! This post is dedicated to my mother, Frances, on this special day. Last week, Frances, Sarah, and I visited Butchart Gardens located on Vancouver Island. It rained most of the day, bestowing a soft and gracious mist to the Gardens. The cool humidity of the day enhanced the diverse shades of treesContinue reading “A Light Exists in Spring”

Celebrating Spring with William Wordsworth

“Come forth into the light of things. Let nature be your teacher.” William Wordsworth William Wordsworth is one of the most beloved poets of all time. Born in Cumbria, England in 1870, he lived during the Romantic Period of literature.  His love of nature inspired many of his poems, even as the French Revolution influencedContinue reading “Celebrating Spring with William Wordsworth”

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening ofContinue reading “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”