The smallest spaces are the universes we stop to peerinto. They are made from beetles and Hosta and partly watched TV shows. Try this on: “You go ahead of me, I’m in no hurry,” and watch a slow walk become a new universe appear before your eyes.  

When my father passed away last week I imagined him finally meeting all of his golf heroes in Heaven's pro shop who would help him fine tune his chip shot and putting game. While I never matched his par as a golfer when I was a kid, as his caddy I did manage to come up with a few trick shots of my own.

When my father passed away last week, I imagined him finally meeting all of his golf heroes and fine tuning his chip shot and putting game. While I'll never live up to his par as a golfer, as a kid and his caddy I did managed to come up with a few trick shots of my own.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? Well,don’t follow the lines in that poem or you may come up empty handed this gardening season. Underneath that soil, there's a lot that is not contrary at all, and a lot of hard work we don't see that reaps a harvest of a lasting and special kind.

What we see in our life here on earth are but smallsnapshots of the greater vision that God has planned for us. We can look into each other’s eyes, but the bigger picture of the depths of our souls and character are known only by the One who made us. My father, 102, is seeing the bigger picture now and although still spunky and sometimes talkative, often looks past me, towards a new and beautiful vista.

They are among the least, the lost and the lonely – those puppets propped up at local car washes. They are supposedly there for children, but the looks on their faces tell another story. We grown-ups may be the only upper hand they have in this world, but with a steady line of clear coats and tire shines waiting, reaching out to save them may be a wash…

We officially kick off the new green and greenery of the season when our seasonal pet mallards, Maude and Claude drop in like a couple of duck bombs out of nowhere. They are like long lost relatives that remind us that, regardless of the duck bills and paddle feet, we are just who we are, part of a long line of stories building to a legacy.

You are seeking something aren't you? What is it? A person you miss, a goal left unmet? Around there are signs all around you in the woods that may point to answers, to friends at a picnic, to goodnight kisses and flowers that are ready to bloom in the Spring...

Winter sits heavy like a spoon mired in oatmeal, unmoving,bland and monotonous. For those of us in the middle, in the midst of our drift, we approach the drudgery of winter as if we may have to eat oatmeal for months. Eventually, we begin to reflect, renew our senses, and pay homage to the season.We can embrace a vision here and there, take on a forgotten dream, and let the songbirds at the feeder carry us forward.  

Be careful where you wave your hand. In an attempt to