Author Archives: C.L. Fisher

“We all long for it, and we are constantly glimpsing it; our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most humane, is still soaked with the sense of exile.” — J.R.R. Tolkien We leave out early, pull our hat brims down when we face the rising sun,  so warm and welcoming.  TheContinue reading “Eden”

“It’s not what you look at that matters; It’s what you see.” — Henry David Thoreau I just could not sit still; this hard world and its hard news kept me unnerved, disjointed, uneasy.  I could not concentrate on a computer screen, and numbers became jumbled lines with no meaning; so I stood and putContinue reading “Little Oasis”

The time of deepest violet when much of the world is dreaming and just as the dawn chorus begins — this my favorite hour of morning. I imagine the blood-orange chest of the white-throated robin; I’ve seen him many times sitting along the fence as he begins the symphony, bird praises  to our Creator —thisContinue reading “Morning Prayer”

With tiny craters echoing light through its glass, a green garden globe rests amid the plants looking like a strange new world, a small planet dropped down from space. You might overlook such a common item sitting in a corner in the shade of tall lavender covered in fine webs —netting I first missed — wholeContinue reading “Wisps”

These little water catchers, sponges of the desert, green islands dotting the sand sea, armed to protect the well within. Most often I avoid this plant;  reminding my husband to trim around the base of our pear tree when the first white blooms rain down, certain the wild cacti will reappear near the trunk.  ButContinue reading “Desert Blooms”

A little “Good morning” left by a sweet friend with a simple  note reminding me to “smile” — and I did, a huge grin, gratitude spreading across my cheeks, my heart singing and adding a lift to my alone-again workday. These vibrant pick petals  with a center explosion of yellow, tiny sparks like fireworks,  bringContinue reading “Reminders”

I am reading about the Broomway,  a dangerous stretch of medieval road that dares courageous souls to trek  when the high tide allows.  It is marked  with warnings; death by drowning  is a real consequence, and a nearby cemetery in a place called Foulness attests to the truth of this foreboding.   If you dare a visit,Continue reading “Safe Travels”

“Where the most beautiful wildflowers grow, there man’s spirit is fed and poets grow.” –Henry David Thoreau  I’d like to plant some wildflowers, sunshine wrapped by petals of snow, a reminder of the glories of two  seasons — warm spring days  for lazy picnics at the park, and the hours of frost  that beckon us inContinue reading “Small Gifts”

These fuchsia flowers sit as an offering; I snap  a picture, admire the long and lovely blooms,  but I find myself drawn to the imperfections;  nature has its flaws,  and I count those  as distinguishing traits,  just as the lines, folds,  and hollows we wear  through our ages, years  worked out on our faces byContinue reading “Masterpiece”

Early on this new day, not even five am, and I sit, coffee in hand, listening as you tap computer keys.  We have a rhythm — waking early, sharing our first kiss, and then inquiring  how each other slept, me in my comfy chair and you at your desk, our sweet good mornings.   YouContinue reading “Love Story”