Look! We're more than half way through February. Snow continues to melt, uncovering the ragtag old leaves from last fall, and the down fall twigs and branches. And through the mat the spikes of crocus and daffodil leaves sprout up.

As I expected, Deer Creek ran high yesterday, and muddy, so that even rocks that were near the surface (I knew from the form of the flow, and from knowing the creek so well) were hidden in all that lack of clarity. St. Omer's Creek flowed slowly, blocked from emptying faster by the high water level in Deer Creek. Did St. Omer's push to enter the larger flow, or did it patiently wait its turn? Imagining a human stance to the state of water flow is a long stretch, I suppose. But metaphors from the natural world do guide my thoughts. I recognize that the smaller creek is neither anxious nor patient, it just IS.

Full moon Friday. On clear sky big-moon nights the color of the world shifts to mysterious. The light does not bounce around like the brighter daylight, and shadows are deep and dense beside the pale lit places.

I am ever surprised and delighted by the natural world just as it IS. Let me be more observant and less judgmental toward the ways of being of my human companions on this journey. How shall I do that, and keep my own self balanced?