Standing at the edge of the alpine meadow my coffee mug is warm in my hands. A beautiful balance to the chill air. Ahhh…

Under the towering Sugar Pines, I take a few moments to soak in the first glimpse. My senses are awake and receptive drinking it in. There is a physical sensation of being pulled and beckoned, compelling me to go out in the meadow. This is my place. Belonging.

Leisurely walking the boardwalk, I notice the sights, sounds, and smells that make up this lovely place. Earthy, elemental, fresh yet ancient is what comes to mind. I pause to deeply breathe in the air, cleansed by so many Sugar Pines, Giant Sequoias and Cedars.

The meadow is already alive with creatures going about their business. The shiny black birds and bright, bold Tanagers call, dive, and swoop as they greet each other and share the meadow gossip. Flitting insects and seeds make up their breakfast. They light on the tip top of the purple-blue lupine, singing and swaying with the breeze that ruffles the meadow flowers and leafy plants. Joyful!

There is a greyed and hollowed out fallen tree with gnarled branches and bits of decayed roots lying across part of the meadow. A small tree is growing up from the edge of one of the dead branches. I wonder what creatures call the nooks and crannies home? Grass in varying shades of green, and bright yellow Sneezeweed, tiny white flowers and deep purple lupines have grown up around the old tree like an embrace. These colorful flowers create a gorgeous living carpet. Breathtaking.

Walking further in, I find the perfect spot to sit. Settling in, I am at peace. A feeling of being welcomed, rooted, and folded in, as if I belong here, in sync with the mystery and rhythm of the meadow. Connected.

I hear a rustling scurry in the clump of meadow flowers just below and to the left of my spot. A small grey-brown head peeks up and watches me, judging and spying. Deemed safe, the chipmunk darts across the boardwalk continuing his morning journey. I’m curious what the day holds for him/her. Purpose.

Trickling and whispering, the little meadow stream bubbles and flows out into the meadow. Tiny insects dip and float on the clear water. Other creatures scratch and rustle in the crowded marshy earth, searching for an appetizing addition to their breakfast.  I don’t know its source, but as the season pushes on the stream will slow and the water will pool, creating a new habitat that sustains those late summer and early fall plants, flowers, and creatures. Seasons.

The morning light filtered through the tree branches at the edge of the meadow casts a mysterious, divine glow, as the summer sun rises. The rays force their way between pinecone laden branches burnishing the meadow with a lemony, pure, white light. Each light ray is distinct and discernable, stretching out beyond the trees to touch a specific spot.  These bold rays are in sharp contrast to the meadow area still in shadows. The lighting produces an ethereal, other worldly feeling where one might fancy seeing a forest sprite or fairy, dancing and flitting through old growth and flowers. A supernatural spotlight.

The Divine is palpable and alive in this place. The Creator is here in this beautiful meadow. It is ancient ways, knowledge and mystery, the connection between living things and continuous rebirth.

The cool morning air is becoming warmer as the sun continues its climb. I have been out here for a while, feeling as one with nature and this meadow. The early morning creature energy is slowing to a lazier, relaxed pace, slipping into the routine and warmth of late morning and early afternoon.

It is time to get on with the day. I feel melancholy and wistful as my time in the meadow comes to an end for this trip. Life will go on uninterrupted after I head down the mountain. It is as if I’m leaving part of myself here with the meadow to be picked up at my next visit; to recharge and restore what life has depleted. Is it strange to feel so connected to a place?  

Divine connections and encounters are a blessing. It feels like hope.  I will treasure these sights, scents, and sounds until next time, when I sense the meadow’s welcoming arms and soothing call to come and sit a spell.