Hello August! Essay

 

Hello August!

August is a wonderful month. The days begin to shorten, gently reminding us to appreciate what remains of summer. As someone who has been a fall person more than a summer person, this is when I really begin to enjoy the season. Cooler breezes start to sneak in, beautiful mushrooms begin appearing across the forest floor, and there is a subtle hint that autumn is not too far away.

Here is a pair of Gray Catbirds that have been keeping me entertained this summer. Their second brood has officially fledged, and after spending about a week tucked safely beneath the cover of shrubs and trees while constantly begging their parents for food, the last of the youngsters have now moved on. But…I have a suspicion we may not done yet. The adult pair is still actively defending the nesting area, which makes me wonder if a third brood is about to begin. If so, I would be thrilled to host another generation.

Their nesting story has been fascinating to watch. Their first nest tucked high into the right side of our long hedgerow along the boardwalk. After those young fledged, I carefully trimmed the hedge while making sure to leave the now-empty nest undisturbed. Instead of reusing it, the catbirds built an entirely new nest about fifteen feet to the left in the same hedgerow, where they successfully raised their second family.

What makes this especially meaningful is remembering their first attempt to nest here few years ago. That nest failed after discovered by Common Grackles, and the Catbirds abandoned the area altogether. This year has been a different story. They did not just try again – they persevered. Two successful bloods are already in the books, and if my instinct is right, they may soon be rising a third. Sometimes nature reminds us that perseverance does not always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like simply building another nest and trying again.

Main Line: Poem

 

Main Line

Do not try to keep life on track! –

Time never comes back.

What do you want I tell you else? –

Health is true wealth.

Happiness is an inside job. –

Do you remember spring love?

Do not please everyone. –

You live for no one.

Success requires consistency. –

I believe in power of effort and regularity.

Peace of mind is valuable. –

Do not disable,

This is the main line.

August: Poem

 

August

August is summer’s golden goodbye.

People say that August is the Sunday of summer.

It is a bridge between summer and autumn.

August foresees how year has been and how the year will end.

August is a bright late summer to stretch time and soften the place.

Summertime is melting away.

 

I welcome August with open heart and open mind.

I trust enough in the universe to bring environmental clarity.

My body will feel like home again, a little bit familiar but also renovated.

August, cheers to the new adventure with you!

Tomshinsky@2026

Pressed Flowers: Essay

 

Pressed Flowers

Pressed flowers have been used to preserve memories for hundreds of years. People once tucked blooms into letters, journals, and family Bibles to remember weddings, loved ones and special moments. That is the one reason I love combining wildflowers with vintage decor. They both remind us that beautiful things deserve to be preserved.

I love creating pressed flower art, but what means the most to me is the message behind each piece. If my art can encourage someone to slow down, hope, smile, or simply feel a little less alone, then it's doing exactly what I hoped it would. In my own little way, I want to create pieces that inspire and remind people that it is okay to rest, to heal, and to keep believing in brighter days.

Pressed flowers, soft fairy lights, and a little creativity turned an ordinary jar into a magical lantern that brings warmth to any space. Nature has a beautiful way of creating the most delicate decorations.

Create beautiful nature suncatchers using sticky contact paper, pressed flowers, leaves, and petals collected on a summer walk. Simply arranged treasures between two sheets of contact paper, trimmed them into circles, and hung them in a sunny window or between tree branches to catch the light, remind of the past summertime.

Sometimes powerful words in rhymes create lyrics like pressed flowers to preserve memories to remember the occasion. Tomshinsky@2026

Season's Lessons: Poem

 

Season’s Lessons

In reality,

There is no such thing

As bad weather.

 Actually, and truthfully,

We thank every day with gratitude

And without any attitude,

When the wind turns on the tune.

The breeze keeps up with the rhyme.

Dark nights are for sweet dreams.

The sunrise comes with bright daylight.

Every season everything makes

Dance and sing.

Birds sit on the trees

And walk dry land.

Wetland’s ripples swing.

Every season teaches wonderful art

To dance and sing,

To smile and fly.

Tomshinsky@2025

Flowers as a Gift: Poem

  Flowers as a Gift

Give women flowers,

Not just on dates, and not on a random day,

But on a quiet evening, without need,

When the soul sounds especially.

Give them just because,

Because they are alive, nearby,

That warms the silence,

And heals the heart with a gentle glance.

Give them the breath of roses,

And the light of fields in simple bouquets,

So that in every petal, seriously,

Love whispers without an answer.

Let the fragile stem on the palm,

Become a recognition without words,

Where instead of a thousand stories,

One: "You are more than love."

Give women flowers,

As a gift to the sky a ray of dawn,

So that in their eye's dreams bloom,

And the world seems endless.

And maybe, in this very moment,

When their hand touches a bouquet,

You will become forever for them,

Those who brought spring... and summer.

Give women flowers —

And listen to how the heart breathes,

How in the silence of her dreams,

They become a little closer, higher.

Give — in the rain and in the first snow,

In the midst of worries and in the weary hour,

So that they know: there is someone in the world

Who sees in her the whole world is not small.

Give the scents of spring,

Weaving tenderness into every gesture,

So that even on ordinary days,

In her soul, an orchestra sounds.

Give as if for the first time,

Embarrassed, sincerely, without measure,

As if the whole vast world now,

In her hands — and only you.

And if suddenly the light fades,

And night touches with quiet sadness,

Let your simple living bouquet,

Return her joy, as art.

Give women flowers,

In them there is more meaning than words,

In them — a promise of kindness,

And tenderness spoken by you.

And perhaps, through the years, suddenly,

She, warming with a smile,

Will understand you were the one who could,

Love... without demanding an answer.

Give women flowers,

And do not count the petals,

For in each one — the tremble of silence,

And the revelation of the soul.

Give so that the light trembles,

In her eyes, like stars in the sky,

So that every moment lived,

Becomes warm, sincere, simple.

Give, as if for the first time,

You utter a confession,

When both the voice and the story tremble,

And the heart asks only for attention.

Give tenderness without reason,

Without "why" and "if necessary",

For love does not need a title,

It is important to be with the beloved nearby.

Give lilies and poppies,

Tulips, roses — everything in between,

Let each of these quiet signs,

Live your sincere charge.

And may one day, through the years,

When whiskey touches the gray hair,

She will whisper to you, as then:

"I still need you..."

Give women flowers —

As life gives, without regret,

And in this gesture of simplicity,

Lives a great moment.

And if the soul suddenly asks:

"What is the holy power of love?"

The answer will come barely breathing:

"In that, it... always gave"

Sergey Kay

James Jackson Story

 

Well, I’m James Jackson by name. I’m from Pensacola Florida but I was born and raised in Denmark. I’m a lumberjack. I own my own logging company in Mexico; I’ll send a link to check me out. I use Facebook to keep in touch with family and connect with longtime friends so I am not always on here to chat. …I’m single currently. (A widower) …Lost my spouse and son in a plane crash many years ago. Ten years ago, was the worst day of my life, my family and I were on our way to Colorado in a small plane. As we were circling the airport waiting to land, we were hit by a massive wind shear, and our plane crashed 90 feet short of the runway. I remember it all so vividly- my daughter and I were the only ones awake while my mom, Dad, my wife and son were sleeping. I remember feeling so peaceful looking out of the plane window at the Rocky Mountains and the beautiful snow-capped trees in the back of the plane by myself. Suddenly, it felt like the plane was hit by something with immense force and we began to fall out of control. I vividly recall feeling like this was how our lives would end and feeling a type of fear that I haven’t felt since that day. Time was frozen, as I heard my son screaming -the one person in my life who never showed fear. Have you ever had a dream and felt paralyzed while watching something terrible unfold? That’s what I felt. I looked back out into the beautiful white snow out of the window and began to pray for a prayer of desperation amidst the chaos and impending sense that this was the end. As I looked out the window, it went from white, to whiter, and upon impact, a complete blinding white-out… this was surely the end. I awoke to wails of pain and a chaotic scene. I could see the runway outside my window and firetrucks began to get on us. I opened the plane door and told us to sit on the wing of the plane, which was now on top of the snow. My daughter Sara with a broken leg, serious spine fracture, collapsing lungs, along with many other injuries somehow walked out of the plane and sat next to me on the wing. I was in total shock. I did CPR on my spouse. She was unresponsive. Soon, we were all up on stretchers and sent to the hospital by ambulance. My son had severe back and neck pain set in. I was in a hospital room with my daughter and found out that my mom and dad had barely survived and was airlifted to Denver. Then came the news I was dreading that my spouse and son had died as well. I was all afraid and devastated.  

My spouse, Gaby, was a bigger person than life. She was a strong, Mexican woman who loved Jesus and loved people with all her heart. She loved dancing, watching comedy movies, and, boy, did she love her tennis. I have so many amazing stories about my spouse, but if I could sum it up, she lived her life with passion. She had a zest and love for life that is hard to explain. And I miss it. I miss it so much. After my spouse and son died, our house seemed empty. It’s funny how the things you take for granted in life are the things you miss the most when they’re gone. My spouse used to do this thing where she would make sure Our son said goodnight to her every night. If I do miss a night, she would text him and tell him to get his butt over there. He would tell her He loved her, they’d hug and kiss goodnight. After my spouse and son were gone, I was so sad because I couldn’t see my son run over and hug her anymore. It was the small things in life I missed. It was the Sunday mornings at church, the post tennis match hug, the Spanish spoken at home, and the way she made the house feel alive.