Final Days in Turkey Creek…

My Benedictine practice suggests that I live in the present and with the help of prayer, reflection and yoga I try to keep my mind focused on the here and now.

I believe we are programmed to look forward to things…






Better times…

As I near the end of my stay with the dogs, Blake and Skye, anticipation flips my stomach like a pancake and I am impatient to get through the days and hours left for me at Turkey Creek.

I risk missing the subtle nuances that brush the surface of passing time.

I gather my consciousness together to notice yellow and black butterflies adorning the fruit trees that edge into the frame of my office window

I strain to hear the pre-historic cry of the Limpkin as he searches for apple snails along the river banks


I sing songs of joy with the tree frogs on a misty morning

I follow the sun as it casts shadows across the lawn between violent rainstorms

I step carefully around young snails that glide slowly from one grass verge to another, translucent in their delicacy

I listen for the primordial grunts of the alligators as they warn of territorial infractions in the nearby sawgrass


My mind drowns in restlessness, logging the number of long walks, bike rides, weekends, trips to the store, meals to plan and chapters to write, before I leave…longing for departure yet willing myself to stay and be.


These last few days at Turkey Creek are bitter sweet, filled at once with excitement and the ache of sadness.

I probably won’t be back to this part of Florida that will always hold a very special place in my heart.

Last year I could not get over my good fortune to have arrived where the countryside, littered with beautiful Brahmans, rolled to meet the horizon and instilled peace and tranquility upon a soul filled with dreams.


I soaked up the natural ambience and because I didn’t want the stay to end, as there was nowhere to go home to, I dwelt in the moment and was able to savour the passage of time.

Now I am so excited to be going home that I want to pirouette until my head spins and my tongue shouts with joy.

I want to jump over the fences marked ‘no trespassing’ and run until my legs give way, leaping through fields of spider web adorned grasses, my mouth filled with laughter.

I want to fast forward, tripping thoughtlessly over days that could add color to my life.


I want to see the sun setting over my new land in Texas and gaze at the stars shining big and bright.

But I make myself breathe deeply and notice the palm trees and Spanish moss darken slowly against the backdrop of a Florida pink sun set where I am today,


because tomorrow will come all too soon.

And if I can stay in the present and lean forward just a little without rushing and embrace my life,


If I can allow each day to envelop me with its heady fragrance,

I will encounter the imago Dei within and become one with my creator.

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