Snow wonderland
Wind singing through pines
Walking in Bonelli





No wind, stringy high clouds block a bit of blue.
Someone bounces a ball next door,
I hear the intermittent sound.
Suddenly several dogs bark across the golf course green,
Suddenly stop.
Across the turquoise pool water burnt orange leaves waft downward,
some land on the pale gold rocks,
some float at the pool’s terracotta edge,
others lay across the dark green rosemary bushes.
Bird song I cannot identify fills the background.
Two men, voices loud, banter –they’re neighbors, friends.
One of their small children cries, stops, cries again.
A late day golfer strides a ball, shouts.
Breeze arises, quits, more leaves fall,
the pool and birdbath water slightly ripple.
The lemons glow against the dark green leaves,
a painting emerald and bright yellow.
I sit beside the African multi-colored granite table my son made,
admire the colors:
-succulents called fire sticks match the falling leaves.
shades of orange, red, and green.
-the pots that house them match the dark blue of the pool’s old fashioned
Mexican tile.
-roses still display a few blossoms, dark red, pale pink, peach.
Tomorrow the gardener will trim them back to help them bloom lushly n spring.
-the oleander, still green, quit blooming weeks ago.
-rosemary loves this time of year, covers itself with tiny, fragrant, grey-blue flowers.
-in the distance mountains arise, a purple haze.
Now, no sounds, only silence.
I sit in the quiet beauty, write, drink green tea, feel grateful.
Orange pink shadows ripple across the turquoise pool water.
Pumpkin colored and purple leaves drift across the rosemary,
land, bright little boats floating across the turquoise water.
A phoebe, dressed in his grey tuxedo coat and white tie,
flits along the red tile at water’s edge.
Green, minuscule, a hummingbird hovers among the scarlet salvia.
Fuschia, peach, deep red roses glow in the setting sun.
Suddenly, howls break the evening silence.
Coyotes, joyful, sing to each other,
preparing for the nightly hunt.
I use essential oils for many things and even cook with them especially cumin, lemon, rosemary, fennel, etc. Â I tried so many lotions and none really worked for the dry climate in which I live. Â This year remains exceptionally dry–no measurable moisture in over 100 days. Â This causes dry skin itching and discomfort. Â 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. Â I always use frankincense and myrrh. Â The last time I made this I did not use geranium and jasmine; I used neroli and sandalwood. Â Find out what works for you. Â 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. Â Place in a bowl. Â Add oil and essential oils and whip until smooth and thoroughly mixed. Â I use an electric mixer just as I would for creaming butter and sugar for a cake. Â Sometimes in colder weather the shea butter can become somewhat crystallized. Â 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–
my choice.
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
in silence.
The bobcat climbs the canyon wall,
surveys his rugged realm
in silence.
The coyotes run above the rim,
watchful, wary,
in silence.
Now, in January, the birds stop to drink
from the blue birdbath, bobbing
in silence.
At night, the stars and moon
illuminate my sleep
in silence.
Winter stillness lies over the canyon:
a blanket of white cold.
Windless, a rarity in West Texas.
Three colors:
green juniper
adobe rocks
crystalline snow.
Suddenly,
I see reddish brown rock,
cat shaped,
large,
outlined against the snow.
I wait,
I watch.
It moves,
dashes up an  arroyo,
disappears.
Bobcat?
Puma?
Snow falls in a
driving wind.
If the roads become
too awful, I will
celebrate Christmas
alone.
An awful experience?
No.
Beauty lies outside the windows and
in my heart.
Heat radiates from the fire.
Food fills my refrigerator.
Music bursts from CDs’.
Joy!!
Christmas always brings delight and
reflection.
You do not have to be a Christian to
feel the meaning:
Kindness
Tolerance
Empathy
Giving
Receiving
Accepting
Families
Friends
Love
Joy!!
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