In the garden, Autumn is, indeed the crowning glory of the year, bringing us the fruition of months of thought and care and toil. Rose G. Kingsley, The Autumn Garden, 1905 On a beautiful late-September afternoon, after enjoying food and fellowship with family, we harvest the beets. I’ve lost my mojo for food preservation this
Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC's of Faith Six-plus years ago when my book, Two Hearts: An Adoptee’s Journey Through Grief to Gratitude, was published I was terrified. I felt naked and exposed. I was, figuratively, both of those.
Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet. Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables After a gruelling hour or so at an appointment downtown (well, gruelling to me, at least) I head to the mall to walk off some stress. It’s late on Friday afternoon and the mall seems full of people.
When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden. Minnie Aumonier We head to the garden to water after supper. I’m tired, having spent most of the day on my feet in the kitchen canning tomato soup. It’s a simple process, but it seems to take so long by the
Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. Henry James The morning harvest is plentiful: Swiss chard, beans, kale, salad turnips, and basil. While I busy myself tending to it all and making pesto, I put my helpers to work snapping beans. After the produce
What a blessing it is to love books. Elizabeth von Arnim, The Solitary Summer Ladybug Girl and I spend a good chunk of the morning at the library. The library appreciation gene has been nourished through the generations and it is strong in both of us. She’s proficient on the catalog search computer; we stock
. . . for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. Philippians 4:11 ESV After lunch, we three take our cameras and head to a favourite park. First stop is the butterfly garden. It is awash with colourful blossoms—the tall, old-fashioned, hollyhocks the most prominent among them. Gerry and I wander