Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Autumn

pennies from heaven

pennies from heaven
lie scattered on moss-crowned stone
beneath curved aspens
dancing in autumn splendor
yesterday’s green burns golden

This morning’s wallpaper. The kind that makes me all weepy in a happy/sad way. Life is short. Every passing season reminds me that our days are limited, and that life is beautiful as well as harsh. I pray for each of us a week filled with gratitude for little things, little people and small acts of kindness that grace our lives each day.


© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 November 2018
Photo of Aspens in the Rocky Mountain National Park found at 

autumn love letter

autumn love letter
ripples across calm water
reflecting the sky
fiery burnt orange maples
bend and bow before mortals

The last two days we’ve finally seen autumn’s brilliant colors splashed here and there. They won’t last long this year, thanks to a 9-year warming October weather. Still, they’re brilliant, especially when lit by late afternoon/early evening sun.

The Ando Hiroshige print above caught my eye last night. The poem came this morning. It invites me to take a calming break, preferably in nature, after another week of unannounced violence inflicted by human beings on other human beings.

Pause mode may sound like a futile gesture. It isn’t. Especially now.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 November 2018
Ando Hiroshige print found at; From 100 Famous Views of Edo, Autumn, Inside Akiba Shrine, Ukeji c. 1857

elegant feathers

elegant feathers
grace wings beating in tandem
faces resolute
a matched pair of cranes flies south
through autumn’s glowing colors

Yesterday morning this gorgeous photo of migrating Sandhill Cranes came up on my screen saver. Though everything about it caught my eye, I couldn’t stop staring at the Cranes’ faces. Birds of the air on a mission. Lending their beauty for just a few short seconds to the background of the sun and autumn flaming out. Chased by shadows, resolutely flying south guided by an inner compass.

I think I’d like to be a Sandhill Crane when I fly away. Which brings to mind this old song.

Today I’m grateful to be alive, well and kicking now and then. I’m also grateful for the way people and events come together unexpectedly, moving me ahead whether I’m ready or not. Always at the right time.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 October 2018
Photo of Sandhill Cranes in flight, New Mexico; found at
Recording of I’ll Fly Away found on YouTube

My Dear Meadow,

How kind of you to welcome me
Yesterday when I arrived unannounced
And uninvited

You looked weather-worn and weary,
Sometimes disheveled and barely able
To stand upright

Leaning one tired limb against another
You seemed to be managing, though clearly not
For long

The air above and around you seemed deserted
Without its usual commotion of butterflies and birds
And beetles

When I saw you bravely doing your meadow thing
Against all odds, tears came to my eyes

And leaning in on yourself you made my heart
Happy to be alive and visiting your aging presence

Tiny blossoms
Winked at me from the sidelines and reached out
To remind me that little things matter

Of muddy footprints pressed into half-dry mud puddles
Happily told me I wasn’t the first to visit you recently

Of fluffy meadow seeds sped by on unruly gusts of wind
Distributing next year’s bumper crop of wild spring beauty

Bird houses
Empty for the season stood sturdy and brave prepared
To weather the coming freeze beneath ice and snow

Just in case
You’re not open the next time I stop by, I wish you
A long winter nap and restoration to your youthful vigor

Which is exactly what I hope for all of us.

With admiration,

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 October 2018
Photos take by DAFraser, 17 October 2018, at Longwood Gardens Meadow

morning’s first sunlight

A particular slant
of morning’s first sunlight
bathes the towering oak
setting fall leaves on fire
beneath a deep blue sky

Most mornings I look out our bedroom window to see what’s going on in the sky. The largest tree on our backyard horizon is an old, magnificent oak. The leaves are lovely; they don’t, however, produce the best fall foliage unless the light is just right.

For the past few weeks, early morning sun has transformed brownish oak leaves into a stunning display that lasts for a few minutes and is gone. This morning the sky cooperated with a crystal-clear, almost cobalt blue background. A great beginning to a special day, which happens to be my 74th birthday!

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 November 2017
Photo found at
Daily Prompt: Particular

Fleeting reminders | Photos

God our Savior,
hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas,
You formed the mountains by your power,
having armed yourself with strength;
You stilled the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
and the turmoil of the nations.
The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;
Where morning dawns, where evening fades,
You call forth songs of joy.

Psalm 65: 5b – 8 (New International Version)

Psalm 65 lifted my weary eyes and spirit this morning. Below are photos that remind me of the seasonal wonders our Creator has woven into the fabric of this earth. Which includes each one of us, precious and vulnerable. D took the photos at Longwood Gardens in late October.


Where morning dawns, where evening fades,
You call forth songs of joy.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 November 2017
Photos taken by DAFraser on 27 October 2017 at Longwood Gardens

Ikebana and Bonsai at Longwood | Photos

Last Saturday D and I visited Longwood Gardens for a late summer/early fall walk. The flower beds had been put to bed for winter, and the meadow was a seedy expanse of dying yet still graceful grasses. We took a meadow walk, stopped by the children’s railroad display, ate lunch in the café, and then headed over to the conservatory to see the annual Chrysanthemum Festival.

This year the Conservatory went all out with an Ikebana display, a Bonsai display, and Longwood style Japanese Lanterns. Plus thousands of chrysanthemums.

Below are my favorites from the Ikebana display. First, a few things about Ikebana, the art of Japanese flower arranging.

  • Ikebana goes back to Japanese Shinto worship of nature, and the Chinese Buddhist tradition of placing flowers on the altar to Buddha.
  • Today it’s more about flower arranging, following ancient rules and forms. Usually the arrangements are in the form of an asymmetrical triangle.

The exhibit hall is normally set up for musical concerts. This time it’s an Ikebana display of various kinds of Ikebana arrangements. All arrangements are by qualified members of the Ikebana Philadelphia Chapter, which includes Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland. Ikebana International has over 10,000 members in more than 50 countries.

Here’s a look just outside the exhibit hall, back toward the entrance to the Conservatory. You can see Chrysanthemum ‘mushrooms’ popping up, lots of water flowing, and behind all the foliage, lots of visitors!

Turning around from this view, we walked into a large area lined with Bonsai arrangements. Again, this wasn’t a competition, but a display by members of the local Brandywine Bonsai Society. Here are some favorites. I was especially intrigued by the combination displays of ‘large’ and miniature arrangements. The miniatures are shown enlarged; you can also see them beside their exhibit ‘partners.’

Well, friends, I’ve barely touched the Chrysanthemum Festival, and haven’t even begun to show you Japanese Lanterns Longwood style! Stay tuned, but don’t hold your breath. It’s bad for your blood pressure.


© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 November 2017
All photos taken by DAFraser, 28 October 2017

Going home

Maybe it’s the steady march
of autumn fading into brown
Or birds migrating south
in twos and threes and twelves

Then again it may be nothing
more than daylight diminishing
into shades of deepening night

Unexpectedly I wake up
anticipating the unthinkable
bidding farewell to this world
sinking below and beyond
the horizon into unending day
finally at home and at peace

Writing these words troubles me
Has deep discontent wormed its way
into my soul?

Yet there it sits.
This world of aching beauty and sorrow
will not be my home forever

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 October 2017
Photo found at pinterest; taken by David Allen Photography
Sunset from Clingman’s Dome, Great Smokey Mountains, North Carolina


shadows of women
I may once have been recede
within a forest
fragrant firs bend branches low
heavy with pregnant brown cones

I had a waking half-dream this morning–the first three lines of the tanka above. How to end it? I don’t want more of the woman I’ve already been–though I don’t want to lose her entirely. Rather, I want to be born yet again into a life that suits me today.

This half-dream seemed to say I’m at least half-way there. Besides, this is Labor Day weekend. A most propitious time for dreaming about possibilities.

Labor Day celebrates the everyday women, men and young people who labor to get the job done. Many labor under duress in less than healthy, safe, life-giving conditions. A good time to dream about possibilities.


© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 September 2017
Photo found at
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Continue

There’s a chill in the air

There’s a chill in the air
this morning.
I warm my old skin
with soft flannel
and walk through my museum
of relics.
Nothing rhymes today.
Reason flew south months ago
leaving only my heart
and you.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 August 2017
Painting found at
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Rhyme

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