Last month I shared some of my own sunrise/sunset photos.
Whenever the sun puts on a display, though, my Facebook friends love snapping photos as much as I do. This means I get treated to a steady parade of gorgeous scenes on my news feed.
So I couldn’t resist sharing a few of them as well. Here are some of my favorites.
Cousin Steve sends early morning greetings from Chicago.
Friend Barb regularly treats me to sunset photos snapped from her backyard in central Illinois.
Fellow congregation member Sandy shared this amazing beach shot.
My friend Collette snapped another.
Cousin Lise, who lives in Denmark, shared this stunner.
My niece Amanda captured an other-worldly sunrise on the farm where I grew up in western Illinois, and where she now lives.
Friend Will shared this panorama.
And Pastor Mary caught this spectacular sunset outside our church.
Thanks to all my friends and relatives for giving me something to feast my eyes on after a long day! And reminding me to peel myself away from my computer and look outside my own window from time to time.
In John 10:10, Jesus says, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
When we read this passage, we may be tempted to think of abundance in terms of wealth or material possessions, but I sense that Jesus had something entirely different in mind.
Like sunrises and sunsets, for example.
My husband and I have been blessed with a beautiful park near our home, and I’ve encountered scenes like this one several times when driving or walking around the lagoon at dusk.
I must say there are few things more awe-inspiring than the vivid colors that seem to bounce off the treetops just as the sun prepares to set, especially in the fall.
Unless it’s beholding a “mackerel” sunset as I walk out my front door.
Or an entire sky that has turned solid pink.
Of course, beauty doesn’t always have to be brilliantly ostentatious. Sometimes it’s subtle, as in this scene of a setting sun poking through the mist behind snow-covered branches.
In tough times, I’ve found sunrises and sunsets to be pure balm for the soul.
One night (among many this past year), I don’t think I managed more than an hour of sleep as I lay awake pondering the pandemic, the political situation in our country and a series of little crises closer to home, while asking myself and God one anxious question after another. But then I happened to glance out the window just as the sun was rising. The scene in front of me was enough to put my angst-ridden brain on pause for several minutes.
At the tail end of an exhausting week about a year and a half ago, some longtime friends invited my husband and I to join them at an all-you-can-eat buffet for a feast of serious comfort food. As I stepped out of the car and walked through the restaurant’s parking lot, God greeted me with this stunning display of abundantly extravagant beauty.
I like to begin each new day by reciting Psalm 118:24: “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!” I must admit some situations pose a challenge to this resolution, but sunrises and sunsets always give me a reason to rejoice and be glad.
When I looked out the picture window in our living room on New Year’s Day, my first thought was, “I hope this isn’t a sign of what 2021 is going to be like.” In central Illinois, the year started out with … an ice storm.
But I had also pledged to start each day finding something to be grateful for and I had to admit, the ice really was pretty. Especially since I didn’t have to go anywhere that day and could stay warm and toasty inside while enjoying a feast of hoppin’ john and greens with my husband.
So I got out my camera and pointed it out several windows to see what the lens might capture. The thin coating of ice turns twigs into a work of art.
In our driveway, we have a small tree we call “the clubhouse.” Dozens of birds gather there, and we can hear the chorus of chirping as soon as we walk out the front door. Even the ice didn’t deter the birds from having their regular “meeting,” but … BR-R-R-R-R!
I love how each of the berries on our neighborhood crabapple trees has its own icicle.
If you look close, you can see a bead of ice hanging from every single one of those berries. Just. Wow.
And I was certainly grateful the sheet of ice that covered everything, including the electrical wires, was only about a quarter inch thick and we didn’t lose power.
So, may everyone have a blessed and happy new year!
Can photography be a form of prayer? Howard Zehr, author of The Little Book of Contemplative Photography, thinks so.
Photography can serve as a medium for reflection and meditation, and encourages mindfulness, he says. “By slowing down to reflect and meditate, by heightening our visual awareness and our imaginations, by cultivating receptivity and a more holistic way of knowing, we can renew ourselves while gaining new insights into ourselves, the creation, and the Creator.”
Some photographic subjects present themselves in an obvious way. An amazing sunrise practically screams, “Quick! Grab your camera.”
As do the brilliant fall colors in this park scene.
However, mindfulness is also about “being aware of and appreciating the ordinary, of being open to beauty and insights in the commonplace,” Zehr says.
For example, who knew that chives going to seed could be so pretty?
“We often overlook things that we experience as ordinary or everyday,” Zehr says. “We tend to make preconceived judgments about what is worth looking at or photographing, valuing the ‘picturesque’ or ‘spectacular’ and failing to recognize many of the visual possibilities around us.”
How about a coneflower blossom?
Throughout his little book, Zehr gives us exercises designed to increase our awareness of the visual richness of ordinary objects and scenes. One exercise: Set out to photograph without a specific subject in mind, remaining open to whatever seems to present itself.
Like a leaf that has floated to the ground.
A pair of acorns.
Or a single perfect rose.
“To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place,” Zehr says. “I’ve found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.”
Like bright red berries against a deep blue sky.
Or a starkly bare tree with a cloudy sky shortly before sunset serving as a backdrop.
“Ordinary things, when really seen, make extraordinary photos,” Zehr says. “Such photos seem to make themselves. They seem like presents that were given.”
I snapped this photo of icicles dripping from a twig on a bush next to my porch.
These fall leaves still flashed their brilliant colors as they peeked out from under a very early snowfall.
“One must always take photographs with the greatest respect for the subject and for oneself,” Zehr says.
Of course, one can’t help but respect this goose walking straight toward me in the park, who just begged to be noticed … and photographed.
“A contemplative approach to photography is an expression of wonder grounded in respect and humility,” he says. “As such, it calls us to live in right relationship with our Creator, the creation, and our fellow human beings.”
An attitude of wonder “requires that we look anew at the familiar, that we stop taking the world around us for granted,” he adds. “An attitude of wonder is essential if we are truly to experience the creation and the Creator.”
Several members of our church congregation have t-shirts with the following slogan: “God’s work, our hands.” I like to think of the habitat-building work my husband and I have done in our backyard as an example of this philosophy in action.
I adore the wildlife that shares our backyard space. Pete and I have done a number of things to make our yard more critter-friendly, from installing goodie-filled bird feeders to planting flowers loved by pollinators to letting our lawn go “wild.”
For several years, we’ve been luring a variety of feathered friends to our yard with sunflower seeds, suet and other assorted munchies. Of course, the squirrels never got the memo that all these enticing treats were for birds and not for them. I finally gave up trying to keep the squirrels out of our bird feeders. I mean, why? I could watch their antics for hours. They are SO much fun.
The birds are patient, waiting their turn until the squirrels have had their fill. One day as I watched the birds and squirrels during morning meditation, I counted at least a dozen different kinds of birds who visited our feeders, ranging from cardinals and bluejays to woodpeckers, doves and sparrows.
We’ve been adding pollinator-friendly perennial flowers and herbs little by little each year. Here, a butterfly and bee (you can see them both if you look close) feast on some blooming chives.
We’ve traded in a neatly manicured lawn for a wildflower meadow since we stopped using chemicals of any kind in our yard. Now the grass is interspersed with violets, white clover, dandelions and assorted small wildflowers that provide both nectar and pollen. This chipmunk seems to like our new lawn as much as the bees and butterflies do.
For several years we even had a fox living under our deck. She would have the cutest babies each spring.
I had become accustomed to sharing my lettuce, tomatoes and other “salad crops” with my furry backyard friends. However, the rabbits have for the most part stayed out of my flowers and veggie beds since I started sowing white clover for them. (Shhhh! Don’t tell the neighbors.) The clover also does a nice job of filling in bare patches in our lawn.
Small mammals may not be so glad to see this guy, but we think our resident hawk is magnificent! Pete likes to joke that we’ve provided a nice backyard deli for him by attracting all the other critters. I don’t like to think about that part. I just admire the hawk.
We proudly display this sign in our backyard. Anyone can create a welcoming haven for local wildlife, says the National Wildlife Federation. This is true whether you own 100 acres of land or live in a small apartment that only has room for a container garden.
To find out how you can make your green space of any size more wildlife friendly, and turn it into a certified wildlife habitat, go onto the National Wildlife Federation web site (link HERE).
Is it normal to be in mourning for a tree? Because I certainly am.
Spring tried to come a little too early to the Midwest this year. Normally, I love an occasional 60-degree day in January, but there really can be too much of a good thing at times.
The unseasonably warm weather lasted a couple of weeks instead of a couple days and caused several of my perennials to start coming up. Some of our trees began to bud. Not good. Usually this doesn’t happen until March. Winter came roaring back, like it always does. Most of my perennials survived, but my beautiful Rose of Sharon tree didn’t make it.
My Rose of Sharon sat on the front corner of our house. From midsummer until the first frost, this lovely little show-off greeted me with hundreds of blossoms as I pulled into the driveway. Its abundant profusion of blooms seemed to shout, “Glory to God!” The bees and the hummingbirds loved it.
I’ll never know if it was climate change that caused such an abnormally warm January, but I do know I’m going to miss this amazing little tree.