Beneath My Feet

Heart seen in the snow. Waskesiu National Park at Birch Bay Jan. 2021 Miraculously, the heart beats all by itself. But, the heart beats stronger in the company of others.  ~ Cecile Miller A bright blue sky day last winter found us x-country skiing the trails at Waskesiu. Gliding through the forest, fresh air and sparkling fresh snow were invigorating. The company of good friends was spectacular.  We discovered this large heart tracked in the pristine snow on the frozen lake. It was an appropriate welcome and backdrop for  après ski  sharing of food, a fire and songs at our picnic site. The many good folks we skied with are likely doing the same this year. We miss you and look back fondly on those outdoor winter gatherings during Covid times. 

Photos sent by Brenda Tenold, Isla Mujeres, Mexico, January 2022. Thank you!  It was raining in Victoria, BC where our group's meditation guide lives. He often says simple things that resonate with me. I plant the words in my mind, and jot them down after the  "zoom".  "W hen it is raining outside there is nothing we can do about it... w e can either find an umbrella to protect ourselves or stay indoors." ~ P. Reiner Serendipitously, that same afternoon I was emailed these photos. A group of friends on the other coast of Mexico were outside enjoying a rainfall, huddled together, and noticed their feet! I was heart-touched they sent the photos. And, there were the umbrellas above their heads! I love coincidences. They hold their own special meaning. I was also reminded of this, "Focus on what you can control, and let go of the rest."    Their feet!  P.S. I am thrilled (and flattered) to receive photos from you dear friends, who, when you look down at t...

Mourning Cloak butterfly, on the ground in Saskatoon, early spring 2021 "Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly."  ~ unknown The butterfly is a marvelous example of trust and metamorphosis. What is a butterfly if not the flowering of a caterpillar that spreads its fragile wings to soar? I first spotted this M ourning Cloak butterfly  on a bright warm day at the end of March. I was  walking along the river in Saskatoon, and it was extraordinary to me because there was still snow on the ground! (Above photo taken two weeks later.) Some research revealed its name, and because it appears so early, it is also called the "grand surprise". I like that. Apparently, it is one of only a few species of butterfly that doesn't always migrate and may stay in the butterfly state, hibernating for the winter under tree bark. Amazing.  The other day I noticed a large yellow butterfly lying on its side in watery sand on the shore. Thinking it ...