Dogwoods bowing...

Mariposa manifestations....

Beggars all....

Then sings my soul....

Blue Boy

Crumpled

Ezekiel's Vision

And I looked, and, behold, a stormy wind came out of the north, a great cloud, with a fire infolding itself, and a brightness round about it, and out of the midst thereof as it were glowing metal, out of the midst of the fire.
Ezekiel 1:4

Mizpah for September 26th

Reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin. Romans 6:11

"As the death of Christ was not barely a natural death, a separation of soul and body, but a sacrifice for sin, to destroy the dominion of it, so our dying to sin is the truest conformity to the death of Christ." Sherlock

To live in the reality of that truth. To take upon our lives the death to sin and its power over us. To live free to conform to the image of Christ, to form within His transforming power over sin. Do I dare go forth from this comfortable sac of sin upon which I cling? Dare I cast it aside and take wing into the newness of pure blue sky?

Ask of me

Ask of me, and shall I not fill thy feeder with the freshest sugar and water? Ask of me, and shall I not ward off the ants that torment you?
Ask of me, and shall I not trim back the climbing rose limbs, to make a clear path to the feeder? Ask of me, and shall I not pop each cat that dares attempt to snare you? Ask of me, little hummingbird. Ask of me, says a loving Father above, are you not worth more than the hummingbirds of the fields?

Farewell Friend

It has been about a week now, and the hummingbird family I have so enjoyed watching and photographing through the summer are gone.
Yesterday as dusk, in the front yard, as I sat under the oak, the one hummingbird came and perched. I feel this was the last of the family to depart, perhaps the female hummingbird who would get my attention when the feeders needed filling. The feeders are in the back yard, and ever so often, she would come to the front yard where I was sitting and momentarily hover in front of me, then dart off.
She would also hover against the window where the feeders hang, suspended and looking into the room (perhaps in search of me) I would like to think.
I was able to capture many decent photographs, though I have yet to take the one I feel really sings. I favor the shots where the wings are a blur and they have a somewhat mystical look to them. My favorite time observing was one rainy day when the little hummer sat perched on the climbing rose limb and warded off the rain by rapidly beating her wings and arching her back upward. The water droplets sprayed all about.
The ants and wasps now gorge themselves upon the feeders I have kept full, just in case I have miscalculated, and the hummers do return.
I wish you a safe journey to your winter home. I hope there you find someone who faithfully fills your feeder with just the right three to one ratio you so often reminded me of.

Caress of the Fritillary

Umbriel and Ariel

A most interesting courtship is transpiring around the fields of Florida as the Gulf Fritillaries emerge from their cocoon's. In the heat of day, the female emerges, to hold onto the stem or cocoon, drying out. After about thirty minutes to an hour, a male fritillary flutters up and connects with the newly emerged female, to mate. It must be quite the ordeal for the female, the first sight of blue summer sky, the wings still unable to fly, and here comes her suitor, as she is helpless to escape should she want to. But, it is in her created manner to emerge and repeat within her the cycle that shall bring the butterflies again and again to brighten the meadow.