Reflections are beautiful; Reflections are profound; reflections are a way the universe talks to you.

This blog was written on March 7, 2023.  This version had some wonderful edits from Chat-GPT.

​This morning, an extraordinary event unfolded at Lake Jeanette. It seemed as if the sky and the lake were engaged in a mystical union, giving rise to an intriguing question: What would their offspring resemble?

Occasionally, I perceive the universe attempting to communicate with me, yet deciphering its messages can be perplexing. It requires practice and attentiveness.

One interpretation could be that the reflected sky in the lake served as a powerful metaphor for climate change. Alternatively, it might symbolize the demise of a poorly managed organization, similar to the one I am employed in.

Furthermore, it could be a celestial indication that diving into the lake grants the freedom of a skydiver, while kayaking effortlessly evokes a sensation of soaring through the clouds.

Alternatively, it might simply be another message urging me to pay closer attention, like a resounding "Wake the f**k up!"

Regardless of its meaning, this occurrence marked a captivating episode in the ongoing series at Lake Jeanette: Reflections are beautiful; Reflections are profound; reflections are a way the universe talks to you.

While fully engrossed in this spectacle, I happened upon a moss preparing for reproduction (though not depicted). This sight caused me to lag behind Annie (one of our two canine family members), who had grown weary of the natural aromas and returned to the house for her morning milk bone.

The morning on the nature trail always holds something to convey—I only wish I dedicated more time to listening.

The universe's discourse did not cease at the lake; it continued its chatter within the confines of the driveway as I opened my car door. I felt sort of whole looking at are cherry tree, located near my parking spot, which stood in full bloom. I took a moment to listen, and to my delight, I was serenaded by a symphony of songs from eleven distinct bird species. When I looked up, I spied a striking male cardinal perched on a cherry branch nestled within the tree's core, its vibrant scarlet plumage contrasting with delicate pink flowers. How did I ever take these sights and sounds for granted, or to be too myopic to notice?

It is regrettable that we become so consumed by our own concerns that we cease to listen, observe, and truly feel. Today, my angst dissipated as I contemplated the sight of the sky descending into the lake, accompanied by a harmonious and resplendent chorus from the descendants of dinosaurs we share the planet with.

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