I admit to having a life-time addiction to weather, manifest in part by a deep fascination with clouds. I offer with reflection and interpretation a series of photos I’ve taken from my patio December 2017 through September 2018. Before I depart with you for this backyard cloud tour, allow me an excerpt from Nature Based Leadership, my first book (available at: https://www.amazon.com/Nature-Based-Leadership-Stephen-Jones/dp/1489710957/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1537390559&sr=8-1&keywords=nature+based+leadership):

My elderly mother tells me that her older sister, Geraldine, tried to frighten the toddler me of thunderstorms. Perhaps she feared them herself. Although I do not remember at all, Mom says Geraldine would exclaim with a sense of alarm, “Dark clouds, rain hard, Stevie; time to hide.” Nor do I recall ever being frightened by lightning, thunder, ominous clouds, wind, or any other manifestation of nature’s more threatening moods. Instead, Aunt Geraldine may have unintentionally ignited my lifelong love affair with weather, even adverse conditions.

I have a vague recollection (from sixty years ago) of sitting in my high chair, watching the sliver of sky that I could see through the kitchen window, rapidly (dizzyingly) transition from blue to very dark as clouds raced across. Even then, I puzzled over what I had seen. Nothing else emerges from the memory. Did a storm follow, or did the blue return? Perhaps Mom placed food in front of me, and the window view—with its curiously rapid cloud covering—slipped into a lower priority. Regardless, the memory is clear. I still puzzle over how nearly-instantaneously the clouds advanced. Given how much more deeply I now understand weather, I suppose that the visual memory is flawed or far too blurry to interpret. I observed and interpreted then through the visual and intellectual lenses of a three-year-old, and through those same lenses, stored the memory. How closely does what I recall seeing six decades later match the actual image visible through the parted curtain? The image I carry now is remarkable, like nothing I have seen since. I close my eyes, and the memory is vivid and real, yet it makes no sense through the perception of a sixty-five-year-old weather fanatic. What we see depends clearly on what tools, understanding, and knowledge we bring to the observation. And time adjusts the memory of what we see.

Docile Beauty

The seeds sown early in my youth, the plant grew strong, and has to a large degree shaped my life and profession. I am a scholar and student of Nature. Clouds and weather stand as a central element of what I’ll characterize as a calling and a hobby. Some close to me have classed my obsession as spiritual, a religious attachment. Fitting then that my first photo is a cross framed by the chapel that is my patio roof!

A winter cold front soaked us all day before departing to the south and east as the sun dipped below the western horizon. The visuals could not have been more striking and inspirational. Think about the metaphorical implications of magical light and reawakening after the storm. With only a little imagination I see distant mountains in the field of view (both photos). I’m transported back to my Central Appalachian roots. Those mountains are remnants of the sinking storm cloud banks modified by the special light. I’m sure you’ve gazed at the warm flickering glow of a campfire or fireplace. I find similar solace, tranquility, and therapy in cloud-watching. Nature serves as my elixir.

The above images evoke  winter’s harshness — a feeling of a cold approaching darkness. The sunset (below left) photo seems warm and docile, yet it occurred on December 26, 2017, within a week of the photos above. I can’t recall the temperature conditions of either sunset. The images carry the warmth and chill, regardless of reality. The December 28, 2017 sunrise (below right) likewise feels warm. Was it? Here at this latitude late December can range from highs of 20s to 60s. Does it matter to our appreciation of the image?

Here’s a soft August dawn. August in northern Alabama — we don’t need to wonder whether this warm image matches reality. We know that we are likely no cooler than the upper 60s.

And from my patio October 2, 2018 — this time, a gentle sunset. Nature’s beauty and magic stay within reach. Seek the moments; grasp them; feel the inspiration; taste the humility of knowing our place in the world.

Gentle Precipitation to Impending Violence

And now to what I view as an unusual dawn, this one from early September 2018. My wife and I had just completed our 30-minute pre-dawn walk in the neighborhood. So quiet this time of year. Only an occasional protesting killdeer sounds alarms if we draw too close. At one point we felt a fine mist hitting our faces, lasting less than a minute. Only after we returned to our house, poured a cup of coffee, and found our way to the patio did we see the cause of our brief misting. As the east brightened, we saw this lovely virga under lit by the breaking first light. From my online dictionary, virga is “a mass of streaks of rain appearing to hang under a cloud and evaporating before reaching the ground.” Funny that I’ve know this term since undergraduate meteorology, yet few people know the term or can identify those tell-tale streaks that I see often… no matter where we’ve lived. I had never before, however, witnessed such an early morning display. The eastern-sky glowing to reveal the virga served up a visual treat — an uncommon spectacle. I accepted this gift with full appreciation. I feel sorry for the poor souls among us who in sequence:

1. Never beat dawn to their patios
2. Seldom venture onto their patios even after the sun has made its full set of morning greetings
3. Wouldn’t know virga if it came with sub-titles
4. Seldom look, see, or feel Nature’s beauty, magic, wonder, and awe

Virga normally signals tame weather. Air dry enough that falling rain (or snow) evaporates before hitting the ground. Sure, we felt a brief mist from the few tiny droplets completing their fall to ground level. There is nothing calm, tranquil, and docile in the following photos. I’ve presented the first two could photos in a previous Blog Post: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2018/07/01/late-june-derecho-natures-fury/ This derecho roared in from the north back in June. The clouds are angry, turbulent, and speeding southward at a furious clip. Strong winds and heavy rain soon followed the screeching passage of this tortured shelf cloud bottom.

Tumultuous yet profoundly inspirational. Had I been on foot in open country (not in my backyard) this storm would have reached pleasurable terror level. This magnificent beast reached deeply into my head and chest. Its visage struck me as beautifully sinister. I was not frightened intellectually, yet its approach and passage struck a raw chord… a nerve taunt with some hard-wired message that raised the hair on the back of my neck. The wind and deepening thunder added to the near-harrowing and instinctive response I could not completely jettison.

Here are another two cloud photographs from a prior Blog Post: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2018/07/24/a-reverse-rainbow/ Again, see the Post for a full explanation and more photographs. What’s so special about this storm? Simply that most rainbows in my experience follow a storm or shower, as the cell move away from the sun that is breaking through the now clearing sky. This storm advance from the east with evening skies still clear to the west. The rainbow, in this case, is preceding the storm!

And lastly among these storm clouds, this shower held a special charm. An August afternoon generated a few widely scattered showers. I watched a single cumulus begin reaching vertically just south of us. It dropped a cylindrical rain shaft no more than a quarter-mile wide. It rained itself out within ten minutes as it drifted slowly to the east.

Clear Sky Danger — Judging a Book by its Cover

I snapped all the photos above from my backyard over the eight-month window beginning end of December 2017. The two photos below are from February 2015. Will Broussard, Education Director at the Mount Washington Observatory, back-framed me with New Hampshire’s White Mountains on an afternoon after weather halted our morning Mount Washington summit attempt at ~5,300 feet. The spin-drift streaming from the mountain’s 6,288-foot summit adds an element of beauty, yet the casual observer sees nothing of the fury the photo signals. Think of the clear-sky as a book cover… a cover that reveals little of the tale’s violent content. I relate that day’s adventure in the Mount Washington Summit Attempt essay in Nature Based Leadership. We aborted the venture when ten-foot drifts, 80-mile per hour winds, and a persistent ground blizzard placed us at great risk. Our snow-cat transport could go no further. Conditions were bad enough at this mile-high point. Staff at the summit Observatory reported winds above 100-mph and the actual temperature at negative ten F. Wind chill at the summit — absolutely deadly!

Here we are at Five-Mile Flat, just beyond where we turned the snow-cat. Ryan Knapp, one of the Observatory’s meteorologists,  took this second shot. He was unable to report for his week-long shift; the meteorologist whom he was to relieve would spend at least another day on top. So much in Nature is hidden within plain sight. Ryan’s photo could be interpreted as six folks in arctic gear calmly walking a trail. To those of us who experienced those conditions, we know that during this 200-foot venture beyond the snow cat, several of us were thrown to the ground by powerful gusts. We covered every inch of exposed flesh when we walked back into the violence. In those few minutes, the wind filled and obliterated our out-bound footsteps. The mountain can be lethal, boasting the world’s most extreme weather. An outdoor novice would not have guessed at the ferocity we encountered from the brilliant blue sky and gentle spin drift we saw from the base. An experienced observer and student of the mountain would have known. From the moment we climbed into the snow cat that morning, we knew we could very well be thwarted.

I have distilled thirteen distinct lessons for leading, serving, learning, and living from Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading, my second book. Among those thirteen, these six hold special relevance to this Blog Post:

1. Nature can serve as an essential life focus.
2. Nature provides multiple attractions for enhancing life’s journey.
3. Test your limits; be bold; ignite and employ your passion.
4. Enter your zone of courage; abandon your zone of comfort; Nature can show the way.
5. Nothing is as it appears at first glance; always seek to know what lies hidden within.
6. Don’t be blind to what lies in front of you.

“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”

Jonathon Swift

“My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing.”

Marcel Proust

Look for Nature’s Inspiration in life’s simple moments — every minute of every day… where you live.

Note: All blog post images created & photographed by Stephen B. Jones unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: “©2018 Steve Jones, Great Blue Heron LLC. All Rights Reserved.”

Another Note: If you came to this post via a Facebook posting or by an another route, please sign up now (no cost… no obligation) to receive my Blog Post email alerts: https://stevejonesgbh.com/contact/

And a Third: I am available for Nature-Inspired Speaking, Writing, and Consulting — contact me at steve.jones.0524@gmail.com

I am a two-year permanent transplant to Alabama. A semi-retired forester, applied ecologist, and former four-time university president, I am ever-more impressed with our Alabama State Parks. Count me among the many champions of our Alabama State Park System. Although this post draws from visiting a State Park, this one is in Pennsylvania.

We visited McConnell’s Mill State Park mid-August. It’s about an hour north of Pittsburgh, and 30 minutes north of where our son and his family reside. Our three Pennsylvania grand kids enjoyed the hike. From the Park’s website: “McConnells Mill State Park, in Lawrence County, encompasses 2,546 acres of the spectacular Slippery Rock Creek Gorge, which is a National Natural Landmark. Created by the draining of glacial lakes thousands of years ago, the gorge has steep sides while the valley floor is littered with huge boulders. Scenic overlooks and waterfalls are popular natural attractions.” Located about 700 miles north of our local north-Alabama State Parks, the McConnell’s forest is clearly different. More hemlock and lots of black and yellow birch.

I had previously been to McConnell’s Mill, but this time I viewed it through my Alabama transplant lens. I drew a sigh of relief to see that our Alabama Parks do not fall short in any manner or comparative dimension. Is McConnell a treasure? Most assuredly, yes, yet so are our 22 Alabama gems! McConnell has no lodge nor marina, nor an interpretive center. In that regard, I swelled with Alabama State Parks pride. I will continue to visit our Alabama State Parks and as I do chronicle my observations and impressions through these Great Blue Heron Blog Posts. More (and more and more) to come!

Rocks and Origins

Yet I found the look and feel very similar. The amazing hemlock perched atop the exposed rock (lower left) is not unlike what I have encountered in our uplifted and eroded Cumberland Plateau. Precipitation in McConnell’s part of Pennsylvania is about 45 inches annually. That’s ten inches less than northern Alabama, yet the evapotranspiration difference probably equalizes the precipitation advantage we hold. The effective available soil moisture differs little. Winters are certainly more severe than Alabama’s. Exposed ledges (lower right) could be many places right here in Alabama’s Monte Sano State Park.

Finding refuge (and cooler air) among the ledges and boulders is an easy task, just as it can be here in the south. Note: I’m the old guy on the left!

I’m convinced that kids everywhere like these outdoor adventures. As the photo (lower right) attests, so do kids of all ages — that’s the old guy again!

Mallory couldn’t resist taking the high road.

Rock ledges (whether in PA or AL) allow for strange bedfellows. That’s a hemlock and yellow birch linking arms. And like here, fern also tops the rock. Moss and lichen find traction on rock surfaces both horizontal and vertical, as well as on the birch itself. Remember the old saw: Nature abhors a vacuum. The greater wisdom is that life-vacuums do not exist in Nature — at least not in these moist temperate climes.

Non-Flowering Plants

This canyon is one extended terrarium. Life is robust and ubiquitous. Christmas fern (left) and hay-scented (I believe) share custody of the rock with rich moss and some flowering plants.

Anywhere my eye gazes presents natural works of art. As I’ve said many times, Nature’s beauty, magic, wonder, and awe lie within reach, hidden in plain view. Hidden that is, to those who fail to look, much less see. And I guarantee, for those willing to look and see, the aesthetic and spiritual rewards are many.

I could have filled a gallery with masterpieces. The kids loved touching… an act permitted in this living museum. Touching… not plucking. A fact and rule the grands embraced and accepted with understanding and appreciation.

I particularly admired the mossy rock bordered on one side by a small yellow birch (below left). And who could not but be inspired by the moss living harmoniously with the tri-leaf wood sorrel and the tiny hemlock seedling (below right)! That’s my trekking pole to provide some sense of scale to the image.

Or the side-by-side moss-lichen community (lower left) and the moss-lichen-fern triad (lower right)?

Or these two dense lichen colonies adorning rock surfaces. I am smitten by the dendritic lichen (lower right). I know the trees; these non-flowering plants stymie me beyond their broad identity as one or another of the main groups.

The Trees

Yellow birch extends into northern Georgia. The species does not appear on the list of Alabama tree species. Therefore, what is a dominant species at McConnell is absent here in the south-land. Yellow birch is the most commercially valuable of the birch species. From a USDA online publication: “The wood of yellow birch is heavy, strong, close- grained, even-textured, and shows a wide color variation, from reddish brown to creamy white. It is used for furniture, cabinetry, charcoal, pulp, interior finish, veneer, tool handles, boxes, wooden-ware, and interior doors.” And I just love its textured yellowish barks!

We do have hemlock here in northern Alabama. This individual at McConnell’s, like some I’ve seen right here at home, finds anchorage and sustenance while clinging to a rock ledge! Admire its tenacity and its algae-coated stem.

We do have northern red oak here locally, along with southern red oak. This is northern; its southern cousin does not cross the Mason-Dixon line into Pennsylvania. This individual qualifies as a Mighty Oak — at least two-foot DBH (diameter breast height), 40-50 feet to the first branch, and nearly 100 feet tall. A grand specimen.

Here’s a 30-inch diameter yellow poplar, another majestic specimen. The species is common from the Gulf into New York. We have some spectacular copses and individuals across our Alabama Park system.

Here’s the same tree flanked by another yellow poplar perhaps 12-15 inches in diameter. An offspring? Perhaps. I present this photograph as evidence of the density of tree stems and the deep shade beyond these two. The story of this stand, however, is that when McConnell’s mill operated from 1852-1928, this forest likely saw clearcutting at least once for its original timber and then again for fuel-wood. The Mighty Oak and the 30-inch poplar are most certainly second-growth.

Forests are not static, just like all natural systems (human social and economic systems as well). The photo below enlarges the prior image to highlight the dead black birch (note the fungal fruiting bodies) between and beyond the poplars. My general rule of thumb is that these natural forests lose on average two percent of stocking (stems per acre is the usual metric) every year. This is natural stand development. Some trees grow and flourish at the expense of others. Sounds just like business or athletics.

Overview

Nature never fails to both inspire and humble. Time on our human scale means nothing to a sandstone gorge. We can only appreciate the beauty and feel the inspiration. Whether at Monte Sano or McConnell’s Mill, separated by 700 miles, Nature is elixir extraordinaire!

We also visited Cleland Overlook,all but near McConnell’s and providing a view of the Slippery Rock Creek gorge, completing the circuit from creek bottom, through the canyon, and then looking over the terrain. I’ve said before about other attraction, not Grand Canyon scale, yet still inspiring and worth the visit. Unless we set our sights so high that we’ll be satisfied or touched by all but the grandest, Nature offers more than we need no matter where we live. Our only requirement for fulfillment and appreciation of Nature is to open our eyes, look deeply, see what lies hidden with reach, and feel Nature’s passion and harness her wisdom and power.

Reflections and Lessons

If you read last week’s Rainbow Mountain Blog Post (https://stevejonesgbh.com/2018/09/04/rainbow-mountain-hike/) about taking our Alabama grand kids to a nearby nature trail, you will recognize that I am offering very similar reflections and lessons from visiting this wonderful Pennsylvania State Park.

I want to spread the gospel of Nature-Inspired Learning. What better way than through the next generation. I believe some of my Nature’s inoculum may have found purchase. I’m hoping that awareness, appreciation, understanding, and accepting our obligation to care and steward will infect and inspire these three future Pennsylvania citizens. I will continue to expose them. Likewise, I will persevere in reaching listeners, readers, and potential believers of all ages.

Allow me to repeat three Take Home Messages: first, Nature and Wildness are where you choose to find them! I’ll add to that this call to action. When you can introduce youngsters to Nature, I urge you to choose to find it near where they live… and take them into local wildness. Help them taste of Nature’s elixir. Help them catch the bug (both literally and metaphorically)!

My second Take Home Message: Learn from the mosses and lichens. Understand that life finds a way of flourishing even when conditions seems harsh and uninviting. Know where and under what circumstances you flourish. Anticipate and prepare for adversity and episodic times of constraint and limitation. Adapt to the latter and always be prepared to reignite when the rough spells pass.

Third, and my most urgent Take Home Message: Enjoy and cherish the Nature and wildness within reach.

Note: All blog post images created & photographed by Stephen B. Jones unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: “©2018 Steve Jones, Great Blue Heron LLC. All Rights Reserved.”

Another Note: If you came to this post via a Facebook posting or by an another route, please sign up now (no cost… no obligation) to receive my Blog Post email alerts: https://stevejonesgbh.com/contact/

And yet another: I am available for Nature-Inspired Speaking, Writing, and Consulting — contact me at steve.jones.0524@gmail.com

Find an Alabama State Park near you — visit and enjoy!

See my Lake Guntersville State Park Blog Post: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2018/08/08/lake-guntersville-state-park/

I previously posted reflections from my April 21, 2018, first visit to Alabama’s Little River Canyon National Preserve: https://stevejonesgbh.com/2018/05/15/little-river-canyon/

Time has somehow sped a quarter-year beyond that delightful orientation. Widespread Virginia pine (Pinus virginiana) mortality captured my eye as I toured and hiked the Preserve. I snapped lots of photos to remind me of the extent of demise. Only now am I finding time to reflect. Nature’s natural cycles define all life (and much of the physical world) on our home planet. Forests… and trees within forests… exhibit somewhat predictable such ebbs and flows. Does that mean we can attribute some explanation to the Virginia pine decline and mortality I saw in April? The answer is a simple (well, not entirely simple) affirmative.

The Nature of the Species — Virginia Pine

From Silvics of Forest Trees of the United States, Agricultural Handbook No. 271 (USDA Forest Service 1965): Virginia pine is a transitional type eventually replaced by climax hardwood forest. It is a disaster species, coming in after fire, and on badly eroded areas or worn-out old fields. Compared to other associated pines, it is generally more aggressive on the poorer sites. As environmental conditions improve, hardwoods become a definite part of the understory. These become the dominants and gradually take over the area in succeeding rotations, unless fire or other factors retard the hardwoods.

Ag Handbook 271 served as my undergraduate textbook for a Silvics course. Since updated to Silvics of North America, Vol One — Conifers (USDA Handbook 654; 1990), the revised version now reads: Virginia pine often grows in pure stands, usually as a pioneer species on old fields, burned areas, or other disturbed sites… Virginia pine is a shallow-rooted species… Being intolerant of shade, Virginia pine is a transitional type and is eventually replaced by more tolerant hardwood species. It is a pioneer species, coming in after fire, and on eroded areas or worn-out old fields. Compared with associated pines, it is generally more successful on poorer sites. Virginia pine seedlings cannot become established under the shade of an existing stand, so hardwoods invade the understory. 

Picture the plateau top mid-twentieth century land use pattern as mixed agriculture, woodlots, and transportation routes. Transitioning to public use and ownership, marginal farmland gave way to abandonment and natural succession. Virginia pine, a reliable disturbed site pioneer, colonized the abandoned land, forming pure stands in some areas. The species had a job to do — take root, establish cover, protect the land, and eventually transition to climax hardwood. This is the ecological niche it occupies. Not by some self-regulated sense of duty. Instead, by evolution across the millennia. You might wonder how being a transition species serves to further self-preservation? Doing a job to assure replacement by other forest species? The answer may be simple over the vast sweep of time. By acting in selfless service to preservation of the site and protecting its soil, Virginia pine is a guarantor that when some future disturbance brings the replacement forest to the ground, the site can once more welcome and support a new cohort of Virginia pine pioneers.

Mid-summer through late fall 2016 saw much of Alabama suffering “historic drought.” Northeast Alabama stood at the epicenter of what several newspapers in November called “the worst in memory.” The shallow-rooted, poor-site-colonizing Virginia pine, which had evolved as a transition species, suffered fatally across the plateau. Already reaching terminal age and viability, many individuals and stands felt the tremendous drought stress as the straw breaking the camel’s back. This dead individual stands at the canyon rim, in the foreground of many still seeming healthy individuals on the canyon sides where moisture seepage provides a more favorable site during extended drought.

Plateau top stands are in full retreat. Most of the crowns in this view are dead and yellowing. Even the dominant individual in the center evidences a thinning crown. One former main canopy inhabitant has already fallen onto the center tree, suggesting that the stand was in decline prior to the proximate drought.

In some ways, the drought serves as the pneumonia infection that ends the life of the octogenarian human. General health decline enables a secondary infection to push beyond the final threshold. This stand was already dying from age and genetic predisposition — the ultimate cause)… slowly, inexorably, naturally… when the drought delivered the final injury (the proximate cause).

Virginia pine silvical characteristics suggest that hardwood should be invading the understory, replacing the dead and declining Virginia pine stand. We have a bit of a complicating twist here at Little River Canyon. Managers have been dutifully running prescribed fire through the understory, thus controlling the invading hardwoods. So, not much in the way of hardwood advanced regeneration to succeed the pine. The big question that I cannot answer from my quick circuit is this: Is there sufficient seed-in-place or remaining in cones on standing trees to regenerate Virginia pine? The totally dead canopy in this next photo is no longer producing new seed.

Some understory hardwood is evident in places where prescribed fire did not burn hot enough to kill seedlings above ground (photo below). What I could not determine in mid-April is whether hardwood root sprouts will emerge from seedlings burned above ground.

Cycles define Nature. Winners and losers ebb and flow across time. Imagine the boon to insects (and fungi) that thrive on dead wood. And the woodpeckers depending upon tasty wood-boring insects.

Full sunlight reaching the forest floor will ignite plant communities receiving only dappled sunlight barely penetrating the healthy unbroken canopy for several decades.

Reflections and Lessons

I had too little time for an in-depth exploration. Please view my observations above as cursory and shallow, a first approximation. I found nothing on the website to glean additional insight. The Little River Canyon Center (operated and staffed by Jacksonville State University) hosted its Earth Day weekend when I visited. A beautiful Center with lots of enthusiastic staff and students attending to the educational and nature-interest needs of thousands of visitors. I hungered for time to learn more about the Center and its work. I knew that staff and educators could have answered my many questions. I hope I can arrange a future visit with some of those experts.

I remain convinced that every property tells a story. My quick tour serves as a weak substitute for an informed tale. Of one thing I can be certain — the Little River Canyon Preserve Land Legacy Story is rich far beyond my feeble interpretation. I wonder whether it has been written? Perhaps there is a book in the Center gift shop that tells the tale?

I also know that I’m pretty close on the Virginia pine tale. And I know, too, that Virginia pine is just one chapter in the volumes detailing the Canyon from precolonial habitation, to European domestication, through Civil War influences, and all the way to creating a National Preserve and establishing a national-class Jacksonville State University Center.

Like Virginia pine, every individual, business, and enterprise of any sort occupies a version of our own silvical niche and function. We cannot be both the Mighty Oak and the pioneer Virginia pine. We can’t be both the towering yellow poplar along an alluvial plain and the poor-site-colonizing Virginia pine. And we can’t expect the humble Virginia pine to both boldly conquer a ravaged site and live for centuries once it has worked its transition magic.

Wisdom runs deep in Nature and humans have captured its lessons in sources as ancient and revered as the Bible. Ecclesiastes summed the sage knowledge of seasons and cycles:

To Everything There is a Season (King James)

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

May all that you do be Nature-Inspired.

Note: All blog post images created & photographed by Stephen B. Jones unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: “©2018 Steve Jones, Great Blue Heron LLC. All Rights Reserved.”