Saturday, August 12, 2017

“I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.”

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

I’m sipping coffee and looking at the hills across the river–hazy in the smoke but I can see them for the first morning in what feels like forever.

Yesterday afternoon the sun shone bright enough to cast shadows through the smoke. It was glorious.

Gerry’s annual fishing trip is up in the air due to the wildfires and resulting road closures but this morning I am looking through the smoke to the hills and quietly celebrating.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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