"August Moments" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
“In the hush of morning, hope takes root where shadows once lingered.”
A somewhat chilly gray morning greeted me today, the kind that carries a quiet rain and a softened sky. My usual garden walk was set aside, replaced instead with the gentle blessing of coffee time by the window. I watch raindrops trace their paths down the glass, each one a small reminder of renewal. Both ways of beginning—a walk in the garden or this stillness indoors—hold their own grace.
Beside me, the coffee tastes especially rich, warming me against the cool outside. Classical music drifts through the room—today it is Mangoré’s Un Sueño en la Floresta, a dream in the forest, filling the wee cottage in the woods with gentle cascades of notes. Rain, music, coffee, comfort—all conspire to remind me: even in grayness, beauty abounds.
And so, the words of others arrive like companions on this morning journey. Shel Silverstein whispers: “Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.” These words bloom in my soul like the flowers captured in a sunnier day’s photo—color against the backdrop of gray. They remind me that hope is not just wishful thinking; it is the spark that insists on possibility.
Then George Bernard Shaw speaks across time: “Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” How profound this truth feels in the rain’s quiet cadence. Each day offers a blank page, and even on gray mornings, I have the chance to write something new. To create, to give shape to life not as it is handed to me, but as I dare to imagine it.
And so, as the music flows, as rain whispers its blessings, and as gratitude fills my soul, I recognize the richness of this morning. The wee cottage is warm. My heart is full. The Universe, even cloaked in gray, is alive with promise. Yes, it is a gray morning—but what a great morning it is.
~Wylddane
A somewhat chilly gray morning greeted me today, the kind that carries a quiet rain and a softened sky. My usual garden walk was set aside, replaced instead with the gentle blessing of coffee time by the window. I watch raindrops trace their paths down the glass, each one a small reminder of renewal. Both ways of beginning—a walk in the garden or this stillness indoors—hold their own grace.
Beside me, the coffee tastes especially rich, warming me against the cool outside. Classical music drifts through the room—today it is Mangoré’s Un Sueño en la Floresta, a dream in the forest, filling the wee cottage in the woods with gentle cascades of notes. Rain, music, coffee, comfort—all conspire to remind me: even in grayness, beauty abounds.
And so, the words of others arrive like companions on this morning journey. Shel Silverstein whispers: “Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.” These words bloom in my soul like the flowers captured in a sunnier day’s photo—color against the backdrop of gray. They remind me that hope is not just wishful thinking; it is the spark that insists on possibility.
Then George Bernard Shaw speaks across time: “Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” How profound this truth feels in the rain’s quiet cadence. Each day offers a blank page, and even on gray mornings, I have the chance to write something new. To create, to give shape to life not as it is handed to me, but as I dare to imagine it.
And so, as the music flows, as rain whispers its blessings, and as gratitude fills my soul, I recognize the richness of this morning. The wee cottage is warm. My heart is full. The Universe, even cloaked in gray, is alive with promise. Yes, it is a gray morning—but what a great morning it is.
~Wylddane
RSS Feed