50 shades of green

Today the entire interior of my home was draped in plastic sheeting. Remember the tree that fell on the house in July? We have been putting the house back together ever since. We needed new roof rafter, new skylights, new shingles, new siding, new insulation, new ceilings,  and patched and new walls. We are finally at the point of putting the trim back around doors and windows, and painting out about half of the house. Repairs have been going on for two months. But today was the first time I was unable to get to my computer and my camera until late in afternoon (luckily painters start early and finish early). So, with just a few minutes of daylight remaining I reached for the potted geranium in the kitchen window. I didn’t know I needed this palette of various greens after all the winters browns and grays lately.

potted geranium leaves

Feb 8, 2024
Shoreview, MN
Planet Earth

I wanted to take a moment to say how grateful I am that you are here.
I started STILL 12 years ago as a one-year creative challenge for myself.
But before the year ended, the project had caught too much attention to stop.

And then the unexpected happened—I didn’t want to stop.
The daily act of finding a new subject, led to a way of being in the world that filled me with joy.
The attentiveness required, awakened me to the small wonders that were always there.

STILL became not just a daily creative habit, but a way of being.
Because I had to be present every day, it became a kind of mindfulness practice.
But instead of listening to my own breath, I was listening to nature’s.
It means the world to me that you are here to share this experience with me.

In stillness,
Mary Jo

anonymous winter stems

I have been trying to ID this plant for about a month. I so wish that plant books would include the winter version of the plant as well as the spring and summer photos and descriptions. I am 99% certain in identifying this plant as rough bugleweed, a native wetland plant. The dots, which look like burs are called persistent calyxes. I looked at the stems and I saw dots and dashes, which reminded me of morse code, so I was going to write you all an asemic love letter, but I got distracted by the details of the calyxes, so I ended up with this photo. Which pleased me quite a bit.

Lycopus asper (Rough Bugleweed)

shadow side

Everything has a shadow side. Even overwhelmingly positive events–like publishing a book–have shadow sides. My current shadow side is the irony of publishing a book about stillness–about slowing down, looking at one thing at a time, being present in the moment–only to have so many demands on my time that stillness and slowness are nearly impossible. I am not stressing about this, as I feel okay with all the seasons of life, and now is my season for a certain kind of busy-ness. But I think the irony is funny. I write a book called STILL, only to end up (at least temporarily) anything but still. Everything has a shadow side.

cottonwood leaves in winter

tiny dancers

My bestie, Kristin, on a whim bought us tickets to a dance performance for Sunday afternoon. I almost never go out to see dance. So, I was both excited and a little apprehensive. Guys! It was superb. I was enthralled. It was a performance of Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana by the Minnesota Dance Theatre in conjunction with the Minnesota Chorale. What a thrill! The music, the movement, the staging, the singing. A fest for for my senses. My well will be filled for weeks.

dried orchid flowers