I absolutely love living in the midst of a forest of magical, golden oak trees at this magical, golden time of year.
Of course, I’ve been admiring dramatic red, orange, and yellow foliage for weeks. But there’s something about the more subtle, muted gold of the oak trees that really does it for me.
Especially since there are so many of them here, so I end up feeling surrounded by golden magic.
At any rate, this was my view as I went to get into my car shortly before sunset this evening.
Second day of seclusion and the highlight was taking a walk while it was snowing.
It was pretty magical. I found myself thinking of “My Favorite Things” (“…snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes!”) and trying to catch snowflakes on my tongue (not so easy to do!).
I even stopped a few times to get a video of the big fluffy flakes coming down all around me. Except…I forgot to switch to video, so ended up with still photos of…trees! 😂
Then I saw this beautiful photo and quote posted by a friend on Facebook and knew it was the perfect image for today’s post!
Amazing to think that I recorded this back in January of 2000, when I was very new to Ananda. I still remember how the beauty of this melody transported me to someplace mystical and magical.
I didn’t really know the words then, but they’re wonderful poetry as well. You can hear Ramesha sing it here (lyrics are below):
EMERALD ISLE Come hear, while I sing you of emerald hills, Of valleys and meadows so fair That all who have seen them have carried away Memories in their hearts, friends, like the lilacs of May: Oh, my song is the story of the lilacs of May.
My song is the story of deer on the hills, Of larks that soar, seeking the sun, Of nightingales lifting the curtain of night As with music they bring down heaven’s blessing of light: Oh, my song is the story of God’s blessing of light.
Come join me in singing of that emerald isle, Of flow’rs that, like jewels, besprinkle the lea, Of waterfalls eager to embrace the wide sea As we with our Maker reunited would be.
Come hear, while I sing you of emerald hills, Of valleys and meadows so fair That all who have seen them have carried away Memories in their hearts, friends, like the lilacs of May: Oh, my song is the story of the lilacs of May. –by Swami Kriyananda
