I suppose it is true that if we pay attention to the images near us, they speak to us. I have found this to be true.
There are indeed voices that speak without words, yet somehow have a clarity. I have found this to be true.
Left — Mount Timpanogos, part of the Wasatch Range where I live. It is throughly snow-packed this year. It’s spectacular to me to feel Spring arrived (days in the 70s F), fullness of snow on the mountain (that goes up to 12,000 feet), against blue sky (with all of it’s promises). Welcome big view.
Center — Chiminea in my back yard. Fire is everything from ceremonial to simple joy for me. Fire speaks with a voice of letting go. With a voice of celebration. With a voice of calm. With a voice of thorough intensity. Welcome the burn that is closer in.
Right — Winter Rose, Hellebore outside my front door. Gifted to me a few years back by a dear and treasured friend. Voice of celebration again. Voice of friendship. Voice of growth. Voice of simplicity. Welcome beauty.
It might be true that the images near us might be plenty. Might be calling to us. Might be reaching to us through the sounds so often left behind. Indeed voices. I have found this to be true.