"The Writer"

There are unmarked letters,
An alphabet rides the water's edge of his mind.
Capturing the second of present and future,
Revealing the past.
There are riffles in the stream,
Past tears have been shed,
Holding the comfort searching for him
In the sunshine.
Events mark his finger tips,
The blank pages will absorb his words.
Everything speeds past his thoughts,
Some, to fast to catch.
Life holds the story of this mysterious realm.
This interior formlessness of time
Making the words of the writer,
His own.
They tell his tale,
To the unsupecting reader.
His written web is woven,
Pulled by the letters falling together,
Forming the recipe,
For another's mind.
The reader completes the author,
Kindred souls on a journey together.

By Cara Milnor 12/26/2007

"Wandering Star"

Christmas is over for 2007. We are up at 6am, sitting on the back porch of the cabin. The sparrows, blackcapped chickadees, doves and jays are busy at the feeders. It is almost too cold for us, but we stay anyway. The sky is clear and cloudless. We are just listening and observing the morning. Suddenly a small, dark, cloud appears in the Southern sky above the distant hills. At first we did not notice anything unusal about it, but, suddenly, we realized this cloud was shaped exactly like a star. There was a dark, gray star floating by us in the sky! Zounds! We ran for the binoculars to get a closer look. Sure enough it was a star. It drifted off to the East in the hands of the morning wind and disappeared. Call it what you will, Gypsy and I know it was a special message to all who saw it. There were many who followed a star at another time and place. It was a path that took them to the birth of Jesus Christ. This Christmas took our family there and we are thankful for all the blessings it brought with it. It was a cosy, warm Christmas day here in our little cabin in the woods. The Christmas trees were sparkling and Sarah's (daughter) Elvis Presley's CD was filling the rooms with music. The aroma of turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes and apple pie filled the air. The sound of my 8 year old grandson's toys echoed around the cabin. What a gift this day gave to all of us. It promised that the future will be merry and bright, and the past will continue to hold sweet memories and lessons yet to be learned. We will busy ourselves with the moment. As the shadows of each new day entertwine with the silent thoughts that fill my head, my eyes watch the words appear on the computer screen. The words are messages from the sun, moon and stars. They are all of you. They are everything. They bring peace and joy. The stars will continue to drift by all of us throughout the new year. We will watch for them and look for their messages.

"life"

Although the details are sketchy,
I am sure I was born.
Not the first,
That was Janice.
Not the second,
That was Nedra.
What were they thinking?
My sisters?
My parents, of course,
Were thinking a boy would be nice?
Then I was born,
The third girl, but, almost a boy.
In those days they called me a tomboy,
Because I liked to do boy stuff.
Dolls were out,
Guns were in.
Worms were fun,
And dirt was good.
My sisters tried to make me disappear,
Especially when their boy friends came,
Probably to take them on a date.
I dropped a large tin of glasss marbles,
Down the cold air register.
They crashed to the floor downstairs,
Where they were.
I Also dropped a soaped string down that same register,
For them to try to get.
They never did.
Maybe if they were lucky,
I would appear in my pink ballet outfit,
And, of course, dance for them.
Mother get her out of here!
Next, I was going to dress our cat Butch,
In doll clothes and put him in the baby buggie.
Mother get her out of here!
Now, I am sure this type of behavior,
Was caused by a rough trip down,
The birth canal! That I remember well.
You say how can that be?
Wasn't it dark?
No.
The hospital lights hit me,
Like that ball rolling after Indiana Jones,
In "Raiders of the Lost Ark."
My eyes you see were first out,
Then the rest of me.
But what really made me mad,
Was that slap!
Did I really need that?
I don't think so.
I have overcome all of this,
And am approaching the other end of my life.
When I die,
And enter the death canal,
It will be a bright light as well.
Will I remember that?
Probably.
Will I write to you about it?
Probably. By, Cara Milnor 12/19/07

"Winter"

Good morning. Here comes the sun. Winter has come to our cabin in the woods. Burrrr! Gypsy and I are dealing with it best we can. I put on many layers of clothing and Gypsy gets covered with her favorite blanket while she sleeps. We like the cooler weather, but , sometimes it gets alittle too cold for us. We were greeted by a beautiful, clear too cold a morning to sit on the porch. I poured a pitcher of fresh water into her dish and as I turned to hurry back in the cabin something stired inside my memory of another time and place. I will think about this later and just be happy now to be back in the warm cabin. The fireplace held onto the warmth of yesterday's fire. The smell and sound of my expresso coffee maker on the stove got my attention, telling me to stop the morning chores and pay attention to the arrival of a new day. Gypsy barked with urgency telling me to hurry and open the door. She was very cold. Since it is cold, we will do our meditating inside the cabin, watching the fire in the fireplace, listening to our Christmas music and watching the blue and green lights and decorations sparkle on the Christmas tree standing in Grandmother Milnor's antique, copper, applebutter kettle. Wonderful memories come with this kettle. The kids first memories are of blue and green decorations on the Christmas tree. They object to any changes in this tradition. It is time for me to give thanks for all the wonderful memories filled by those who touched our lives in so many ways. This is music for my soul.
As the sunrise came, the clouds were orange with a dark, gray edge, surrounded by a very blue sky. It was crystal clear. The trees in the woods filtered the first sunlight with there lacey branches, filling our eyes with impressions that will be stored in our memories for another time. As the sun moved higher up the horizon, the light around it became a blinding, white, silvery glow, too bright to look at very long. The camera in my mind snapped this picture providing fuel for my mind. Some white clouds have drifted over the sun and softened the light that will lead us into another day.
The smell of wood burning in the cabin fireplace took me to another time and place. It reminded me of the Christmas Holiday's our family, Nick, Sarah, Daniel and John and I spent at our Tie Siding, Wyoming Ranch. Tie Siding was one store on highway 287, just south of Laramie. It housed a library, post office and grocery store. It marked the corner where we turned onto the Cherakee Park road that went to our ranch roads. The snows came early here at 8000ft where the Cherakee Park Road ended and the cattle guards that marked the beginning of the 5M (5Milnors) ranch roads began. The first ranch road was to our good friend's Juan and Joni's house. The second ranch road went to our log house. Often when we arrived the pinon and ponderosa pine trees and the mountains were covered with a fresh, white snow. Sometimes the drifts were so deep we could not open the doors to the house. Animal tracks made snowflake like patterns in the snow. During the day the sky was blue mingled with white, fluffy clouds. The wind whistled around corners and windows and through the trees. At night the landscape took on a blue color as the moon brushed it's light over the snow. This was a magical light. It created a winter wonderland.
There were fires burning in the fireplaces as the kids were bundling up to go sledding and ride the snow mobiles. There tracks joining the animal tracks for their adventures in the snow. We had decorated a Christmas tree and wrapped gifts. All was well. Just to be at a place like this was a gift to our family. We realize where we are now is a small version of the Wyoming ranch. The memory called me back until I found this cabin in the woods. I count my blessings from the past and look to the blessings of the present. There are many.
The gifts are hidden where wandering eyes cannot find them. The Christmas music is playing softly as it finds and winds around the Christmas decorations you so carefully placed around your house. You have been thinking about what gifts to get for all the special people in your life and are wondering when you will have time to shop for them. You think about Baby Jesus and His journey. You think about your journey and all those whoe shadow crossed your path. What a great time of the year to remember old friends and be thankful for new ones. Blessings fall on us like raindrops from heaven. All we have to do is close are unbrellas.

Misc.

Spend your time and money at the organic grocery store, not, at the doctor's office.
It is a warm, December, Sunday at the cabin. There was a huge buck at the feeding area this morning looking for a meal. He was very wary. It is hunting season here at the cabin and these boys know it. Sort of like downtown.
I have been watching Gypsy watch a squirrel on the squirrel tree where the feeder hangs. Her passion. She has been on point for a long time. The squirrel is very entertaining, keeping us spellbound with it's antics. Time well spent. Not at all like watching television.
Since moving to the cabin I have learned the meaning of a good night's sleep. It is dark and quiet. Not at all like taking sleeping pills.
When I look out my window I see no people, houses, tall buildings or cars. I don't hear them either. It is not like the city.
The city offers many wonderful things and deserves a visit now and then.
The squirrel is gone and so am I.

"Words"

"Words" By Cara Milnor

the words surround us
pulling us into them
weaving mind tapestry
capturing us like a prisoner
holding us in wonder
a writers love affair with you
who choose to read his words
forming an endless string
that twists and turns
completely entwining us
the reader completing
the writer searching
for the last word

Wind

Today is the first day of December and our first, first day of December at the cabin. The wind played us it's song all night long as it whistled through the windows we opened to catch the wind's gift, the breeze. As we layed in bed we wondered what the wind would bring to the woods for us. It was a damp, muggy breeze as a front had gone through leaving it's clouds and a misting drizzle for us to discover as we awoke to start our morning chores. Gypsy reminded me of the most important chore as she crawled out of her pink, sheepskin lined dog bed, that rests on the navy, blue leather sofa she owns. Hide the dog biscuits on the backporch and in the cabin. This was done as soon as I had my morning pot of expresso brewing on the stove. The temperature is almost seventy degrees, so Gypsy and I spent time on the backporch. We watched the woods as the curtain went up and the performance began. As the sun came up above a heavy layer of gray clouds, it cast a pink glow over the woods and sky, our stage. The trees and the tall, pink grass did their dances, directed by the wind. The moving clouds had picked up just a hint of the pink sunrise providing the perfect backdrop for this scene. The sound of the wind was the orchestra for this beautiful production. The harp and flute Christmas music we had playing wrapped it's notes through the fingers of the wind. It took our breath away. Surely this was our first Christmas gift directly from God's theatre. We hope we have sent it on to you. Gypsy and I were content to sit backstage and watch this performance. God has given us this time. We know how lucky we are to be here. We give thanks for all of you and our many blessings.