Evergreen

     Autumn has passed. The colorful array of leaves have fallen and turned brown, now trodden underfoot or sunk to the bottom of the lakes. The grasses have faded to brown. Yet, left is the evergreen trees and bushes so familiar to Christmas time. Such deep, rich shades of green are often decorated with nature's ornaments: the artful pine cone, the chandelier-like mistletoe, brilliant berries of red, sometimes blue, or the nuts of varied earthy shades and shapes. Before the memory of the green summer and colorful fall has faded, the holiday season brings the evergreens indoors and decorates the world with a rainbow of colors.
    Hanukkah and Christmas were filled with faith, family and fun.The end of 2014 has given me extra special memories to hold onto for the rest of my life. But, sadly, the holidays have passed. While many have taken down their Christmas trees and lights, mine are still up. I usually keep them up for a couple of extra weeks to hold onto a little of the magic as the routine of the new year, a busy schedule and the dead of winter take hold of me.
     Yet, in the midst of sometimes bitter cold, winter storms and boredom, I look to the evergreens. Thoughts of mountain pines--or perhaps palm trees along a golden beach--bring a respite from the mundane.

Lori Vidak 1-8-15

The Fading of the Green

     Early on a chilly Sunday morning in early November, I woke early and took Mila for a walk. The sun had already risen above the horizon to cast a golden glow upon the trees, highlighting the newly painted leaves of yellow and red, yet leaving contrasting shadows that make for more brilliant sparkles in the dew upon the grass. An ethereal mist veiled the middle pond on the back stretch of the park trails, and the water was still, reflecting the morning as perfectly as a mirror.
     The air was brisk, as was my pace; Mila pulling me along to eagerly greet new scents and chase after the foraging squirrels. The grass is still mostly green, after a couple of days of soaking rains. Yet, the fade to brown has begun. While there is a sadness in the passing of summer, there is such beauty in the arrival of autumn with its golden, flame red, and orange shades of leaves adorning the trees in a brilliant display of life before the long sleep of winter. The mists that shroud the fields, lakes and roads at sunrise add a sense of calm to the new day, encouraging a deep breath and a few moments of meditation before the frenetic activities of work or play crowd the mind with stress.
     Though cars and trucks were already motoring to some unknown destination, they only interrupted the pleasant melodies of the mockingbirds, robins, jays, ducks and a few geese that played in the background, leaving the walk relatively quiet.
     In mornings like these, I strongly feel the presence of the Lord and am awed by the wonder of His creation. This, for me, is a form of worship that can only be appreciated in the stillness of the dawn. My heart and soul are filled with love and peace. Inspiration follows. I now write to share the precious experience with those who could not see, hear, smell and feel it. I encourage the reader to seek out these moments for they are a priceless blessing.




    May the Lord richly bless you,


    Lori Vidak   11/10/14

Velveteen Green Summer of '14

Brilliant green grass as lush as velvet

Leafy trees as bushy as cotton candy

Waters blue and forest from sky and tree

Colorful bursts of red, pink and yellow buds.

Welcome, needed rains to quench the earth.

Brisk breezes to keep all things cool.

God's blessed gift of relief and awe

Was the North Texas Summer of 2014.

Green Pastures

   

 I am a sheep, defenseless and clueless.

I need a shepherd, a good shepherd to guide and protect me.

I do not always choose the best pastures, the right paths,

or the safest waters from which to drink.

Without Him I will follow other sheep even if they are walking a path that leads to death.

I tend to wander off, distracted by other places. 

My Good Shepherd uses his rod to discipline me that I will learn to stay with Him.

He uses his staff to rescue me when I have fallen into a pit or gotten in over my head.

When I am injured or sick he is my healer, anointing me with oil.

Though my enemy is near, the Shepherd stands guard to defend me while I eat, sleep or drink.

The Shepherd gives me purpose; He harvests my wool.

Because of my Shepherd I have a happy, long life and am content basking in His loving presence.

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me to lie down in green pastures;

he leads me beside the still water.

He restores my soul;

he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;

for you are with me; your rod and your staff comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies:

you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; 

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Green pastures of lush grass, often decorated with bright flowers of yellow, red and blue are a place of bounty, play and rest. Few creatures can resist the urge to leap and play, then roll onto their backs to look up at bright blue sky. When sheep are scattered across the rolling hills or flat meadows, they appear like fluffy clouds hovering over the green, often mirrored by the fluffy clouds of white above.

When I think of green pastures, I remember my horse Angel and the hours she spent munching through them and the times I rode her across them. I think of green meadows filled with violets, daisies, and dandelions as my mom and dad flew paper kites with my brother Doug and me. I think of black and white dairy cows lumbering across the fields or huddled around a lone tree in the midst of a sea of green grass. I think of the smell of spring and summer, freshly mowed fields and lawns. Green pastures are simple contentment in the provision of the Almighty.

I love green pastures.

Lori Vidak 7-01-14

Why the Green Eyed Monster?

Why the Green Eyed Monster?

It twas Shakespeare first defamed the eyes so rare, 

and Disney who turned them against the princesses fare.

Portia: How all the other passions fleet to air,as doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, and shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy!

O love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy, in measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.

I feel too much thy blessing: make it less, for fear I surfeit.

   Iago:  Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster

 which doth mock the meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger, but oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er who dotes, yet doubts--suspects, yet soundly loves!

Has jealousy raged so much the more from those with eyes of green?

Do not blue eyes cast a piercing gaze as well?

And do not deep brown eyes blacken with rage as mean?

Was it evil plot or chance, William and Walt, do tell,

To portray the color of spring into such a scene? 

Lori Vidak 6-20-14

     

Don't Mess with the Frog!

Today, I was scrolling through my Facebook posts and saw this: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=3649169309116&set=vb.1270958814&type=2&theater.

     "Hmm, what's this?" wondered the happy green frog.
     He watched as bugs, one after another, magically appeared and crawled across the smooth glass platter held by his owner's hand.
    "Wow, bugs on a shiny platter! My human really loves me!"
     His tongue ready, he aimed. Fire one! Fire two! Fire three!
     "What the heck? I know I didn't miss!"
     Fire again! Hit! Hit!
     "Hey! Wait a second. A game! I get you the high score and no bugs for me!"
     He caught on about the thumb and the game. When he saw the thumb move next, he thought, "Oh no you don't! I'm not falling for this again!"
     He jumped and clamped down on that thumb, trying to hold it for ransom.
    "Feed me! Now! And no tricks this time! You don't mess with the Frog!"

     I couldn't help myself. I had to make a post of this on Shades of Green.

Lori Vidak 6-15-14

Ode to Emerald Eyes

I was a wee lad when emerald eyes did gleam my way

brightened by rosy cheeks and a sweet smile from cerise lips.

A tiny, soft hand firmly grasped my own on that fateful day.

And with that first enchantment I have never come to grips.

That tot's sweet words filled my young head with plans beyond my years,

even as her heaven-sent embrace filled my heart with love.

I swear that an angel's voice whispered her name in my ears,

and promised this precious rose was born for me from above.

Such a gift from my own clan drew from me a solemn oath

 of devotion and protection which only death could end.

I know the union of our young souls was felt by us both,

A tot and a lonely boy, still too young to comprehend.

To the guardians about us, we were merely playmates,

as kinship expected a couple of children to be.

To them, our pretend nuptials were no hint of the fates,

but the mere harmless mimicry of ages nine and three.

Her screaming terrors in the night only I could still

as I drew my knightly sword to fight the demon shadows.

Then, with caresses to her tresses, I'd ward off fear's chill.

I would stay until the sun's light peaked through the window.

In the garden, we would walk to the fountain and skip stones,

While our parents picnicked out on the neatly trimmed grass.

Until that bigoted old galoot came with bitter bones

and placed his violent curse upon my lovely lass.

His fists beat his own daughter, the grandmother of my rose.

And in his wrath, he kicked aside the brave girl who cried for peace.

The fathers brought the old man to the ground and broke his nose;

The rosebud lay silent; the elder rose's breath had ceased.

The clan that sought to mend a terrible rift from the past,

It was now more torn apart than could ever be reconciled.

Though I fought to change the cruel malediction cast,

I was too young to stop my soul mate from being exiled.

Years of defying Granddaddy brought me brutal beatings,

but he was the laird, and his will was law in our castle.

I was ordered to forget, to stop my constant pleadings,

then to boarding school I was sent to avoid more hassle.

They ne'er knew of the picture I kept inside my head,

of emerald eyes that peered into the depths of my soul,

and like beacons guided my dreams as I lay in my bed,

across seas and years they gave me purpose, gave me a goal.

But when I learned of her tragic loss and relocation,

her emeralds became haunting orbs of sorrow and pain.

I felt her wandering clueless in a strange new nation,

and wondering if Sean would ever come to her again.

I could make no calls or send no notes, so help me I tried.

Whether by my folks or her grandparents they were all blocked.

So I plotted and found those with whom I could be allied,

through which to implement my strategies and have her stalked.

I learned the details of her daily life so far away,

all about her struggles, triumphs, talents and ambitions.

Everything I learned only increased my love for her each day,

and strengthened my resolve to outwit the prohibitions.

At last I traversed the great Atlantic to see her face,

and spotted eyes so green they rivaled the Emerald Isle.

She was still so young, yet endowed with such beauty and grace,

that my knees nearly buckled when I glimpsed her winsome smile.

Through the schoolyard fence she acknowledge me but a stranger,

and I at first could not comprehend how she could not know.

Was I not her Sean, knight to protect her from all danger?

I could hardly contain my heart's disappointment and woe.

Through my tears I observed a quiet, compassionate lass,

who was the one friend of a boy with cerebral  palsy.

He spied me staring at them just as they were called to class,

He pointed at me; I left before accused falsely.

I did see that emerald gaze from over her shoulder

and noted confusion in it and the sadness that I caused.

I wondered the harm I might have done had I been bolder.

I could have frightened her, me sixteen, she ten, and I paused.

Ten years fly by. I carefully watched her mature

while I anonymously worked hard to influence her life.

I was impressed by the resilience of one so demure.  

But, she drove men wild with naivety, causing me much strife.

I could no longer stay in the shaded perimeters,

so I made my move to make our paths literally collide.

I had spent hours pondering all the particulars.

So I applied my charm and turned the tide; she'd be my bride.

My rose blushed and her emerald eyes were incandescent,

when she heard my brogue, saw my brawny self and searched my blues.

Though Sean in her mind was a memory evanescent,

the Sean in her heart stood before her and re-lit love's fuse.

Oh what rapturous joy to gaze in those jewels of green,

to hear her laughter, hold her hand and talk with her again.

I caressed rose scented raven locks with blue velvet sheen.

My passion for her took a will of iron to contain.

But that cruel curse, spat long ago, raged from across the sea,

and suspicions of my intent incurred a demons wrath.

To honor my father and spare his broken heart for me,

I had to make assurances to him and alter my path.

My rose would be in my life, but I would not marry.

I had to give her away to the brother I had found,

and my goal of matrimony, now dead, I'd bury.

Instead she'd work for me; our discoveries would be profound.

The orchestration of all our lives seemed without a glitch.

My rose and I had reason to be together nearly everyday.

I was content to share with my brother her who made us both rich.

We made a happy family in a peculiar way.

Even though I had not foiled the curse, I did have victory.

I had obtained with sweet finesse that which was forbidden.

The blind bigot now appeased, I had my rose; she had me.

In all our years, no one discovered that which I'd hidden.

Then, my brother did the unthinkable and broke her heart.

I felt was given a second chance to make her my bride.

She turned to me, her friend, but passion freed tore her apart.

Comfort she needed most, and I, her host, had crossed a line.

A storm of jealousy unleashed its fury upon us;

my brother, now my enemy, my rose fled the fierce fight.

For her sake, we came to our senses and ended our fuss,

but not before my rose had disappeared into the night.

Against my own desire, I helped my brother bring her back.

To lure her in, I told her I would meet and sail with her.

then betrayed her with a kiss, dropping with a heart attack.

In fear for my life, she summoned my brother, the doctor. 

Near death, I saw a future where I was a fox's mate.

My brother's son was mine, and my rose bore a baby girl.

Blessings were mine if I followed the prophecy of fate.

If I did not, the end of my world would unfurl.

For a time, my rose was lost at sea with a rogue seaman.

My anger burned not against him but against my dear friend.

I stuffed it while my brother and I tracked her and that demon.

We dealt with the sea devil but were too late in the end.

That cocky captain was dead by his own foolhardiness.

My brother took a bullet to his chest and sleeps to recover,

but my rose was shot in the back and drowned--a hopeless mess.

Tubes and wires, bleeps and blips, doctors and nurses gave life to her.

I wept at her side for weeks and mourned the loss of my rose.

Comforted by the woman who carried my brother's son, 

The sexy fox I foresaw to whom I was to propose.

I could not quit life because, with this fox, I was not done.

Miraculously, my prayers for my friends were granted.

My brother awakened, announcing new faith and a gift.

Into my rose and the unborn, new life he implanted.

Her cheeks blushed; her emeralds shone bright; her recovery was swift.

Joy and thanksgiving engulfed my pitiful, depressed self.

My lost family was returned to me as good as new.

Now, we could all store the past away on some dusty shelf.

A future awaited us, which our God would see us through.

However, obsessed, I was unable to leave the past behind.

In a private moment with my rose, I stole a lengthy kiss.

After which, I left her alone to sort things out in her mind.

My brother went to find her; he felt something was amiss.

A note was left to reassure him but requested time and space.

He was willing to oblige her, but not me. I was provoked.

Twas me she was avoiding, and I'd say so to her face.

Later, I went to confront her, in the darkness I was cloaked.

Against the one who cursed me and against my entire clan as well,

Against my brother, against my God, and against my rose,

I fumed as I tracked down that woman to whom I'd raise hell,

Anger smoldering as I stomped along the road I chose.

I meant to punish her sore with a turn over my knee,

and I caught her off guard in the midst of an ancient site.

Like a volcano, I spewed my rage, my hurt, and let it free.

She didn't cower but was a quick, fearsome, fiery sprite.

I am ashamed of myself for I was a burly brute

and drug her along, shook her about, and bruised her backside.

I tried to take her, and twas my possessiveness at the root.

But she pointed out, she was not now nor ever my bride.

My fever dissipated, but not my justified fears.

Had I become the monster I thought my dad's dad to be? 

She didn't know what I'd suppressed all the years,

The bad blood that spoiled our childhood--tainted our history.

Yet still, she loved me, forgave me, wanting back her dear boss.

She had discovered a new story that we two now share.

I listened to her amazed, and my fear was at a loss

for the ancient ancestry of which I was unaware.

My rose had justified our relationship through the past

and blessed my future marriage to her husband's ex-mistress.

I had uncorked my bottled anger from my soul at last.

and we had come to an understanding through mutual distress.

Now, I am married to a beautiful fox, as I'd foreseen.

My brother and my rose are reconciled, their vows anew.

We all eagerly await the arrival of the weans,

and on the surface, at least life was going as on cue.

Yet, my rose has gone away on a trip with my brother,

and I sit here in my library with my wife in our room.

Emerald eyes still appear to me. Raven hair frames them.

I have loved my rose since her mother bore her from the womb.

My rose is at once my sister, my charge, and my inspiration.

I helped mold her into the woman she has now become.

She doesn't remember her Sean, a mere apparition,

as I remember the wee bairn my gran brought home.

If she doesn't remember her visits at the estate

or the young playmate that stayed with her in her folk's cottage,

would revelation do harm to her fragile mental state?

If she's stronger than I perceive, she would want this knowledge.

Such a revelation could change the delicate balance.

There are more people involved in our lives now than ever.

Can I confess the past without hurting our alliance?

Emerald eyes will have to search my soul to remember.

Not the end.

Lori Dawn Vidak

6-7-14