Saturday, March 4, 2017

“Despite March’s windy reputation, winter isn’t really blown away; it is washed away. It flows down all the hills, goes swirling down the valleys and spills out to sea. Like so many of this earth’s elements, winter itself is soluble in water.”

~”Washing Winter Away,” The New York Times, 1964 March 17th

Just when I felt like I might succumb to the cabin fever that had taken firm hold–March blows in and brings with her hope. It was after nine when we came home last evening. It was raining lightly, windy, and a river was flowing down the hill that leads to our neighbourhood. Winter is, indeed, being washed away.

Yesterday was a busy one as my attention was pulled in multiple directions. Looking forward to a quieter time today. Camera play with the crocuses a friend gifted me with, sowing tomato seeds, a chat with my daughter later to check on my granddaughter who is sick, that’s enough for today.


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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