Cold, windless morning
Sounds of silence
Cold, windless morning
Sounds of silence
I use essential oils for many things and even cook with them especially cumin, lemon, rosemary, fennel, etc. I tried so many lotions and none really worked for the dry climate in which I live. This year remains exceptionally dry–no measurable moisture in over 100 days. This causes dry skin itching and discomfort. Therefore, creating my own body butter seemed a good solution.
1/3 cup oil–I use olive oil
5.5 oz. jar of organic shea butter
20 drops frankincense essential oil
20 drops myrrh
20 drops geranium
10 drops jasmine
These ingredients can be adjusted to suit your preferences or whatever essential oils you might have on hand. I always use frankincense and myrrh. The last time I made this I did not use geranium and jasmine; I used neroli and sandalwood. Find out what works for you. If the jar of shea butter is larger, you can adjust the rest of the ingredients to larger amounts as well.
Warm shea butter in a microwave but do not melt. Place in a bowl. Add oil and essential oils and whip until smooth and thoroughly mixed. I use an electric mixer just as I would for creaming butter and sugar for a cake. Sometimes in colder weather the shea butter can become somewhat crystallized. The crystals will melt in the warmth of your hands.
Your skin will love you.
It’s cold outside, 14.
Horse waterers frozen.
Heat water, hike to barn.
Hope horses drink it fast before it freezes.
Back inside, build a fire,
write, read a novel set in Venice,
drink tea from Ceylon,
message friends in Asia, Africa, South America,
feel grateful for modern technology.
Glad I did not live in those “good ole days”.
Look forward to another year filled with joy and wonder–
wind stills, an unusual calm settles
geese fly so low, the whir of wings floats earthward
two hoot owls call, haunting echoes in the canyon
cerise, vermillion, amber encompass the land
a chill creeps slowly through ancient junipers
Today it warmed up considerably after some very cold weather. I love the outdoors but not the cold so really find cold winter weather confining. While cleaning up a pile of brush, I noticed how quiet it was, no birds singing, no sounds, nothing except an occasional soughing of the junipers during a wind gust. Some friends stopped by and immediately commented on the quiet. It suddenly struck me just how different this is from the rest of the year, especially spring and summer with endless birdsong and raucous insect symphonies. At dusk when I finally went inside, I sat down and wrote this poem:
The deer meander along the canyon rim,
stop, browse bare bushes
The bobcat climbs the canyon wall,
surveys his rugged realm
The coyotes run above the rim,
Now, in January, the birds stop to drink
from the blue birdbath, bobbing
At night, the stars and moon
illuminate my sleep
Winter stillness lies over the canyon:
a blanket of white cold.
Windless, a rarity in West Texas.
I see reddish brown rock,
outlined against the snow.
dashes up an arroyo,
Snow falls in a
If the roads become
too awful, I will
An awful experience?
Beauty lies outside the windows and
in my heart.
Heat radiates from the fire.
Food fills my refrigerator.
Music bursts from CDs’.
Christmas always brings delight and
You do not have to be a Christian to
feel the meaning:
It never snows here.
Now it is snowing.
The hotel bar is crowded.
No one’s on the streets.
“Come with me to my ship.”
He’s a freighter captain.
On board, he begs,
“Spend the night!”
On a freighter?
He takes me out to breakfast.
We wander in the snow.
Back home, my friend asks,
“Did you get laid?”
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