The First of June

Good morning. It’s Monday. The first day of June. If there was ever a day for a fresh start this is it. If there was ever a time when I needed a fresh start—well, I expect many of us do. It’s been a tough spring. Summer arrives this month; there’s no stopping it. And that

Wet. Gray.

It’s wet. And gray. But there’s something about the formation of the clouds. And the shade of the green grass. Barefoot, I step out on the deck with my phone to capture the moment. This particular gray and green is for this time alone. This morning silence is manna for this moment only. A photo

El Roi

Some things hit me like a punch in the gut and the terrible seems far bigger and louder than the beautiful. Other times, I lean in, look closely at something small and quiet and easily missed and there I find wonder that washes me in peace. I don’t subscribe to the theory that if I

Antidote

With morning comes the weight again. The antidote. Sun sparkle on the leaves of a tender tree. Deep, variegated greens of the leaves of a mature tree nearby. Shadows on the hills across the valley. The stillness of the morning. The sky—pale blue and dusted with haze. I wish it was clear blue and sunny.

Morning Prayer

Good morning, Lord. Thank you for the gift of this day. There’s this thing that weighs heavy. Look at the eastern sky. I don’t understand this thing . See the shades of pink and red and yellow. I’m concerned about this person and this situation. See how it changes colour. I can’t wrap my mind

A Thought

A thought tumbles in the deep place where thoughts toss and turn for a time before they are fully formed—before they transform from intangible to action—and I think it is the whisper of God drawing my attention to something in need of attention. That’s how it works. Sometimes. Other times the divine comes knocking in

My Book is Born

I arrive home from the garden disheveled, with wind-swept hair and spinach and radishes in hand, to find beautiful, celebratory flowers on my dining table. A gift from Gerry to mark my book’s birth day. He insists on a photo, so I change my shirt, attempt something with my hair, and he says goofy things