All posts by Debra Coe

Colorado, Flowers and Plants, Photography, Texas, Utah

Wildflower Beauty

November 17, 2021 Debra Coe 10 Comments

The Climate Change Summit, COP26 just ended with nearly 200 nations gathering to try to stem global warming. I’ve been thinking about the fragility of our tiny planet and the life-forms that exist here. The intricate inter-dependency of all life-forms upon one another is truly astounding. I cannot fully explain why or how these wildflowers contribute to the balance of life on earth. I’ll leave that to more knowledgeable minds. What I do know though is that they have a purpose beyond their beauty. And I have been blessed to have made their acquaintance.

Upstream by Mary Oliver

“May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the wildflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.

Teach the children. We don’t matter much, but they do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach then the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones – inkberry, lamb’s quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones – rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves, and then the silent beautiful blossoms.

Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

Matthew 6:25-33

“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life – whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown in the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith? So, do not worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’ These things dominate the thought of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.”

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Colorado, Mountains, Photography, Rivers/Lakes/Waterfalls, Wyoming

Enchanting Waters

November 2, 2021 Debra Coe 4 Comments

Mountain water whether lakes, streams, or waterfalls never fails to enchant me. It is all mesmerizing. I could sit by a stream for hours listening to the quiet splashing of water tumbling over rocks. And I enjoy peaceful lakes where the surface often reflects the beauty of the landscape. Waterfalls, however, are my favorite form of mountain water. Of course, a waterfall, in and of itself, is spectacularly beautiful. I could spend an entire day sitting next to one simply enjoying the sounds it produces as it crashes and cascades over rocks and fallen logs on its way to who knows where. I like to wonder where the water might have originated and where it might be going, and what it is accomplishing along its way. As with streams and lakes, all manner of vegetation and a myriad of creatures are sustained and nourished by the waterfall’s very existence.

So quiet. All we could hear was the occasional fish jumping.

Invariably, my mind takes its own vacation leading me to create metaphors relating the mountain’s varied water forms to my own life’s journey. I reflect on times when my life has been as calm and peaceful as a waveless lake serenely reflecting the beauty of the scenery surrounding it. The occasional trout arching up out of the water to catch an unsuspecting insect or a duck quietly paddling across the surface may each create small ripples, but generally all is peaceful and calm.

At other times, however, my life has been like the turbulent waterfall racing and then crashing over ledges, rocks, and fallen logs as it tumbles downward. How did I end up here? Where did this come from? Where will it end? I realize I’ve had no more control over some of the events in my life than a droplet caught up in the waterfall’s descent. The waterfall itself moves too quickly and is far too noisy for my taste! I know that like an individual drop in this waterfall, I am being carried away by a power not of my own to a place not of my choosing. And what am I to do? Complain that I’d prefer to be back on top of the mountain top having only recently been thawed by the sun? Or explain to whatever powers may be that I’d much prefer being where the trout jump and the ducks paddle? No. I am where I am. And not haplessly. I, like each water drop making up the waterfall, am here to fulfill a purpose. Together with each other seemingly insignificant drop, I am part of something wild and beautiful with power beyond my individual ability to create. I am caught up in the act of nourishing the earth, smoothing formerly rough stones, feeding moss and ferns, providing a refuge for the thirsty, and a place of sanctuary for weary souls. I am precisely where I am meant to be. And I am as grateful to be part of a waterfall as I once was on the mountain top or in the placid lake. I am part of creation and am filled with purpose and joy.

QUOTES:

“Grace is finding a waterfall when you were only looking for a stream.” – Vanessa Hunt

“To trace the history of a river or a raindrop is also to trace the history of the soul, the history of the mind descending and arising in the body. In both, we constantly seek and stumble upon divinity, which like feeding the lake, and the spring becoming a waterfall, feeds, spills, falls, and feeds itself all over again.” – Gretel Ehrlich

“As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and I will get as near the heart of the world as I can.” – John Muir

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Grand Teton National Park. This waterfall was so loud we could feel its power.

New Mexico, Photography, Texas, Wildlife

Small Wonders

October 26, 2021 Debra Coe 15 Comments

In her poem, “When Death Comes,” Mary Oliver writes:

“When it’s over, I want to say
All my life
I was a bride married to amazement.”

To me being “married to amazement” means to live – and love – with a wide-open heart fully expecting to be amazed. I find that when I take time to practice this, I always find beauty in unexpected places.

This especially happens whenever I’m in nature. I find hidden treasures. Most often these are tiny enough to be very easily overlooked. The only thing really required of me to see these small wonders is to slow way down and open my eyes and be in and with nature where I am.

On our last camping trip to Colorado, I was intently practicing taking photos with my new camera trying to get the macro focus just right. I’d been focused on a cluster of berries and had taken multiple photos, when quite to my surprise, this tiny seed with silky hairs floated right into focus. It was as though nature was reminding me again to be open to the surprising treasures right in front of me.

Later the same day, Tom asked me to experiment on using the new telephoto lens to take a picture of what he and I both thought was a yellow flower across the stream and quite a distance away. What a surprise! It turned out this was actually a cluster of tiny yellow leaves whose stem had been entangled in a spider’s web. Although the leaves would soon be gone, life was happening! Some unsuspecting insect would become a hungry spider’s next meal, and the cycle of life would continue (at least for the spider!) And this would happen whether or not I was there to bear witness to it. If I want to be amazed, I must pay close attention.

As I was hiking with our photography group on a trail in Rocky Mountain National Park in search of something magnificent and large like a bull moose to photograph, a friend pointed out this small cluster of berries nearly hidden beneath a fallen log. I had just about stepped over it without ever seeing it. In my opinion, it is no less glorious than a bull moose. Science may have an explanation for why humans perceive beauty. However, I like to also believe such vibrant colors serve as a reminder that beauty is an expression of the Spirit’s joy and creativity.

Nature’s willingness to astonish us is by no means restricted to spectacular places. On a lazy afternoon last week, Tom and I drove outside the city and found a trail. Rather than focusing on a particular destination as our goal, we decided to saunter (my new favorite word). Many people in our part of Texas wait for Spring to take scenic wildflower drives, but some of our Hill Country flowers are still blooming, and the bees are happily gathering nectar. Even a cactus when viewed close up is amazingly beautiful in its intricate design.

Of all the tiny elements in nature, the butterfly is my favorite. To me it speaks of transformation. This photo (below) was taken close to our home. Again, it was a serendipitous moment when I was focused on the flower, and the butterfly simply flew into view, seemed to smile at me, and then she became part of the photo. The detail in her wings, face, and wobbly antennae bring a smile to my face. Mainly though, I love butterflies because they remind me of my belief that death is not an end but rather a transformation. The following hymn, “Hymn of Promise,” written in 1986 by Natalie Sleeth, speaks of resurrection as witnessed in nature.

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
There’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity.
In our death a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

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Colorado, Mountains, Photography, Wildlife

The Peace of Wild Things

October 13, 2021 Debra Coe 2 Comments

One of the benefits of Kevin Gourley’s Rocky Mountain National Park Photography workshops is ample opportunity to catch glimpses of wildlife. Kevin is in close communication with park rangers who can tell him with some reliability where the elk, big horn sheep, and moose are most likely to be spotted on any given day. And so, we followed the advice of the experts and covered a great deal of the park driving and then hiking in search of these wild and often elusive creatures.

A bit of sound advice Kevin offers prior to and during each workshop is to not focus too much on capturing the perfect shot of a bull moose or bear. Instead, his advice is to always be aware of your surroundings. That’s great advice even when not on a photography workshop! We miss so much of life waiting and watching for something to happen that we miss the miracles and joys right in front of us. Some of my favorite photos from this trip were of more common creatures. To me, they are no less magnificent than others.

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Sharing our campsite with a family of deer.

Over the past several days, I’ve been reading quite a bit about St. Francis of Assisi whose feast day is Oct. 4^th. True to tradition, last Saturday, our church held its annual blessing of the animals. Pets large and small, real ones, and stuffed animals, were brought forth to receive a special blessing by our priest. I heard all went smoothly with no escapees or conflicts noted. Whew!

As you probably know, St. Francis is one of the most beloved of all the saints and is noted for his deep spiritual connection to nature. Francis saw all of creation as bearing the imprint of God. Therefore, he referred to all elements in nature – sun, moon, water, earth, birds, animals – as Brother, Sister, and Mother. As a result, Francis is known as the patron saint of ecologists. To learn more about Francis of Assisi, you can go to: https://www.biography.com/religious-figure/saint-francis-of-assisi

I have always had a deep affection for St. Francis. Then a few years ago, I discovered devotionals written by Franciscan Friar, Father Richard Rohr who founded The Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The CAC’s mission is to help people use contemplative practices to inform actions that transform the world into a more connected and just world. You can read all about the Center for Action and Contemplation here: https://cac.org

This week Father Rohr’s devotionals have been centered on “Sensing Nature” and, no surprise, St. Francis is heavily referenced. Today’s message was particularly meaningful to me. “When we get away from the voices of human beings, then we really start hearing the voices of animals and trees. They start talking to us, as it were. And we start talking back.” (link to Oct. 12, 2021 devotional https://cac.org/sensing-nature-2021-10-12/) And that’s what happens to me whenever I give myself time to be still and listen.

These are my women, this is my territory, Stay Away!

I love Wendall Berry’s poem, “The Peace of Wild Things”

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel around me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world and am free.

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The Trees Whisper …

October 4, 2021 Debra Coe 6 Comments

We returned to Austin a few days ago from our Fall photography workshop in Rocky Mountain National Park which was led by our dear friend, Austin-based professional photographer, Kevin Gourley (Workshop Link). I had longed to take this four-day workshop for years knowing it would be superb, but it far exceeded my expectations. Each day began at dark-thirty to enable us to drive from Castle Mountain Lodge where we all stayed into Rocky Mountain National Park in time to catch the sunrise. I’m not an early morning riser and typically like a leisurely two cups of coffee before considering getting dressed, so for me to say, “Wow! It was so worth it!” is high praise. If you are looking for an outstanding outdoor photography workshop, I’d highly recommend contacting Kevin. I hear next year’s RMNP Summer and Fall workshops are already filling up.

There’s something majestic about quietly trekking up a trail at dawn to catch the first rays of sun coming up over the mountains. Although this happens every day, it’s as though each sunrise seems to lay out a welcome mat saying, “Good Morning! This day is a gift that not everyone will receive today. Use this day wisely. Pay attention to the gifts it brings, for it will not come again.”

Sprague Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado 6:19 am, September 18, 2021

Most impressive to me are the trees that call these mountains home. At a distance, they may appear to be somewhat uniform, but up close, the variety is astonishing. Conifers including the Douglas-fir, Colorado Blue Spruce, Lodgepole Pine and Ponderosa Pine each with their own unique shape, height, and shade of green are among the evergreens that grow thick in these mountains. My favorite tree though is the deciduous Quaking Aspen. Although beautiful in varying shades of lighter green in Spring and Summer with tiny leaves that twist on their stems and seem to shimmer in the breeze, the Aspen reaches its peak of beauty in the Fall. Greens and lime greens give way to yellows, oranges and even reds that contrast spectacularly with the deep colors of the evergreens. Sometimes, entire mountainsides are filled with these bright patches of color, and at other times the oranges and reds are only lightly interspersed among the deep greens creating a breath-taking contrast of color.

Some people dread Fall knowing it means the end of Summer and that Winter is not far away. But I love the reminder the Aspens seem to give joyfully shouting, “Look! Life may be changing, but it is still delightful and beautiful! Don’t be filled with worry over what may come. Each season has its gifts to share with those with eyes to see.”

Speaking of trees, a couple of months ago, a dear friend thrust a book in my hand and said, “You have to read this!” Because this particular friend is not prone to be quite so enthusiastic about his book endorsements, I took his recommendation and not only read the book, but listened to the audible version with Tom on this trip. The Pulitzer Prize winning, “The Overstory,” by Richard Powers is a brilliant novel in which disparate characters are impacted by trees and come together to understand and support the critical role trees play in our co-mingled planetary life. Although I’ve always been a “tree hugger,” this book filled me with a deep sense of awe for this part of creation that far predates humankind. I’d heartily recommend reading “The Overstory, but until you have time to read it, here’s a poem written by noted poet, Mary Oliver. I love her insight into this lesson we can learn from trees.

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”

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So, go easy, my friends. Know deeply that “you, are the light of the world.” (Matthew 5:14)

Shine brightly in an often dark and frightening world.