Random Morning Thoughts

It’s that magical time of year when every day I see new growth in the garden. We’re eating beautiful and delicious lettuce now. I’m going to pull the rest of the spinach before it bolts and use some of it in a lasagne. I thinned the carrots, and am doing the same with the Hakurei turnips,

A Certain Cadence

Outside my kitchen window, the surprise brightness of a crescent moon high in the east gives me pause in my morning coffee making routine, and I whisper an involuntary “oh!”. Later, with my hands wrapped around a warm mug, I stand at the living room window and look to the east to see what kind

Until Next Time

Conversation, camaraderie, laughter, hugs. Lots of hugs. It’s hard to say what aspect of the weekend is most precious. Three girls in the hot tub, being eaten by mosquitoes, but enjoying themselves nonetheless. Grandmother-granddaughter trip to the, heartbreakingly empty, bookstore. Mother and daughter working together in the kitchen. Movie night. Deep discussion. Light-hearted banter. Did

Thanksgiving

I wake from a dream in which I had returned to work in a similar role as one I was once very proficient in. I was, shall we say, less so in the dream and in my early wakefulness ponder what I remember and what’s lost to me about the technical aspect of my former

Friday Fave Five . . . On Saturday

It’s been years since I participated in Friday Fave Five by posting five things from the week that sparked joy. In the spirit of renewed appreciation for good old fashioned blogging and focusing on what is good and beautiful in the world, I’m going to join in today. It’s Saturday, so I’m a day late,

Respite

Gerry and I took a short trip this weekend and some of the gifts were conversation en route, hope resurrected, and releasing the weight of “is this all there is?”. I’ve been wrestling with depression—there, I’ve written it. I spoke it aloud a few days ago and now I’ve written it so it’s official. I’ve been in

Sehnsucht

The rain. The rain. I wake again to cool morning air in the room and the sound of rain falling. Gerry throws open the curtains and there is gray outside. There is a pouch of something just under my solar plexus. Panic maybe. So keenly do I feel the passing of time and the absence.

Words

I’m still thinking about seasons, and the unexpected rewards and challenges that come with change, and something I read in my morning meanderings gives me pause. Contentment. The word seems bolded in the essay but the emphasis is in my mind alone, and I realize I’ve drifted and need to correct course. Trust. That’s another one,