Seasons Hand in Hand

Summer and fall have walked hand in hand longer than ususal this year. It's wonderful to have the trees turning and still have summer flowers. One couldn't ask for more magnificant weather.(All the photos above were taken on a neighborhood walk a few days ago.)

We haven't had a frost yet, but I'm sure it won't be long now. Today it is raining. The weather forecast shows 33º for tomorrow night. Fall will soon have to bid farewell to summer.

In honor of autumn, here's a poem I wrote several years ago:

Autumn Leaves

By Marlene Depler


Crimson, purple, orange, and gold,
trees so glorious to behold.
Such beauty never does grow old.
Old Winter is knockin’ at the door,
these colors he must deplore
for he will send the dark and cold.

Fluttering, dancing, floating leaves
landing softly under trees.
Jack Frost has been here with a freeze.
Old Winter is knockin’ at the door,
but I still ask for more---
a bit more sunshine, if you please.

Leaves swirling, twirling in the wind
as tree limbs gently sway and bend,
acquiescing to Summer’s end.
Old Winter is knockin’ at the door.
I wonder what he has in store.
What arctic blasts will he send?

Leaves raked neatly in a pile---
I'm not sure that's worthwhile.
A gust of wind---they’ll blow a mile.
Old Winter is knockin’ at the door.
I’ve heard this knock before.
Oh, I’ll ignore him for awhile.

(c) Marlene Depler (Permission must be granted reprint or reproduce in any form)

Remebering Why I Write

By Marlene Depler

I crawled in bed at my normal bedtime, but for some reason, I couldn’t sleep. (This happens to me occasionally if I have had caffiene or my mind is preoccupied. However, I hadn’t had any caffeine and my mind wasn’t racing.) After lying there for quite some time, I decided not to fight it. I slipped quietly out of bed and went downstairs.

Maybe I would find something on TV to watch while I waited for the sandman. But Ray had shut the DVR off in preparation for going away for a few days. I didn’t want to mess with it since I am technically challenged. Then I guess I’ll find something to read, I thought.

So I crawled in my wing-backed chair, put my feet up on the footstool, and picked up Julia Cameron’s book, Walking in This World: The Practical Art of Creativity. I opened the book to page 230 where I had left my bookmark and began reading.

The words and phrases began to leap off the pages and into my heart. I was reminded that creativity (writing for me) is a “spiritual and not an intellectual transaction.” God is the Creator, and in turn we are intended to create. Through it we touch “the divine and allow it to touch us.” “When we let God be God and work through us, we experience both a sense of serenity and excitement.”

I lost track of time as I began to remember the joy of writing—of creating with words. Somehow I had lost the delight of letting words, thoughts, and ideas tumble out of my head and onto the page. Why?

The next page hit the nail on the head. Julia said,

The ‘market’ is the golden calf. When we worship it, we deaden our souls, risking, over time, our attunement to the work that would move through us. Commerce has its place, but that place is not first.

I could relate to that for sure. And frankly, I was weary of the constant reminder to “know your market” and many of the other shoulds of writing. The business side of writing had taken its toll of me.

Focusing to much on the marketplace combined with personal loss had nearly extinguished my love for writing. Now I could feel it come rushing back. It was exhilarating. I remembered some of the things I had written for sheer joy. When I thought about it, the things I had written from the heart were the pieces that ended up selling the best. Yes, I indeed must write—and write what I WANT to.

I wouldn’t have missed this “creative high” for a few hours of sleep. I thanked God for this unexpected reminder. I slipped back into bed filled with anticipation and delight and promptly fell asleep.

The next day while we were traveling, I wrote a draft of a poem—something I hadn’t done in a very long time.

Yes, I must not lose heart in my creative adventures. Creativity makes life itself an ART!

(c) 2007 Marlene Depler (permission must be obtained to reprint or reproduce in any form)

Wide Open Spaces

By Marlene Depler

Vast canopy of cloudless blue
stretches from horizon to horizon.
Blanket of endless prairie grass
unfurls as far as my eye can see.
Sky meets earth beneath.
Earth greets sky above.
Random windmills spin and twirl.
Not a tree anywhere.
Threads of barbed wire are stitched
to the earth with narrow fence posts
bordering miles of ribbon highway.
Not a soul in sight—
save the one beside me.
Quietness settles over me.
External expanse invites internal thoughts
to roam free and unconfined.

(c) 2007 Marlene Depler (Permission needed from author to reprint in any form)