The Glover Gardens blog is back after a hiatus, sharing the positive outcome after we decided to Get On Up.

We had a visit from a beautiful mule deer here at Little House in the Rockies this week. She wasn’t at all skittish or shy.

Frogs can and do freeze, including their hearts, and then thaw and get right back to living their everyday froggy life when it warms up. We’re doing the renewal pruning at Glover Gardens in our own efforts to get our green back.

We’re all waiting for the day when friends can once again be greeted with a bear hug.

We celebrate, honor and value birds, today and every day.

A heron stopped by Gumbo Cove while I was there doing more cleanup from Hurricane Zeta.

A haiku inspired by mourning doves in the early morning at Gumbo Cove … were they sentries? Signposts? They seemed like they were anxiously awaiting something. Like us.

An article in the latest issue of The Shoofly Magazine beautifully captures the seemingly oppositional characteristics of nature and our relationship with it – peaceful but unpredictable, soothing, but sometimes dangerous – and brings back memories of falling trees.

A mountaintop picnic in Colorado’s Pike National Forest sparkled with nature and pineapple mimosas.

A forgotten beauty showed its face in my backyard a few weeks ago, as this gorgeous walking iris woke up and bloomed for the first time in years.

Now is a good time for listening, and learning.
I hear you. #BlackLivesMatter

A few random things as we batten down the hatches before Cristobal comes to visit.

And then, all of the sudden, it flew away, wafting on the breeze high above the cypress trees, its wings fluttering a timeless message: fear not, only believe.

A solo trip to a botanical garden was a tonic in troubled times and the inspiration for a poem.

The story this picture tells is the relentless march of “progress” and how we continue to eradicate nature in favor of more and more and more and MORE cement and “convenience”.

Winter will make way for spring, in many ways.

A brown pelican dictates a conservation haiku.

My lost loved ones were in this sky, whispering a gossamer goodbye.

Seagulls and brown pelicans in Bay St. Louis give me a lesson in mindfulness reminiscent of Thoreau’s experience at Walden

Everyone touches the world in their own way. Making my own tiny imprint through this blog, I want to write more about the gentle things in life.