Beyond magical...

Things replicate themselves in front of your eyes... sky and earth harmonize; they hold hands and dance to the magical tune of the morning... twirly twirly, birds sing, as they cross the opened space between sky and water.  

And you can't really tell them apart...

Or tell whether you are looking up or down, or if perhaps the sky has fallen down to earth and has melted atop the waters, or if maybe, is the water, that had decided to climb up the sky; persuading the clouds away into sleeping a little longer in their liquid arms...

Lake and sky are the same.... they are one. The one thing which let you know that water is water are the rings formed atop the water by the snapping turtles....

Eating crumbs of bread practically off your hands...

Wonderful soothing peace all around you... 

There are some beautiful and peaceful trails hidden in the thick of the woods... on my morning jog, yesterday, I decided I should take that route... it was lovely, but pretty spooky.... not a soul was seen in miles around, only my breathing, and the not so familiar sounds of Nature...

Thoughts of the possibility of running into a mountain lion or a bear in the woods accompanied me for the whole 45 minutes.   When I later asked about wild animals in the woods I was told that bears are usually seen here all the time... Oh boy! I should have known better not to go alone. If you jog or walk in the forest, remember that the forest is never free of dangers. Take precautions.

This is where we're staying right now... just for a couple of days

almost sitting stop the waters...

The view is incredible and amazing solitude to please your senses and heal your soul...

My eyes rest upon the glories of the land; skies a sapphire jewel above. A furtive mist reposes atop tranquil jade waters, satisfying it with peacefulness and myrrh and bird songs—as if perhaps some divine veil of sacredness and goodness had been purposely sent from heaven to wrap us all in undisturbed cheeriness, and shield light and intimate repose.

Something stirs the waters on the lake below, straight down under my balcony—perhaps the breezes who own the lake? Or maybe, is the angel who moved the waters of the pool at Bethesda in Jerusalem, or some mysterious and inexplicable waft of air sent all the way from the lost Paradise? I don't know. But it is like hearing God speak. His voice travels the space above the waters, and it moves up the waters and go deep into the wooded area surrounding it. Then, this same voice stirs the waters again. The sound of thousand tiny bells. A flapping of wings. And it goes up; straight up to my balcony, and into my room where I am sitting pondering upon these things and, entering right through my ears go straight into my heart.  I am blessed.