I’m drawn out to the deck by splendour in the morning sky. I lean against the railing, hands cupped around a warm cup of coffee, and worship as I look to the east. My whispered prayers mingle with the sounds of day beginning in the valley below. In the distance, from the valley, comes the
Oh hi. I don't usually see you around here at this time of day. I'm not often here at this time of day (closing in on noon) but today isn't an ordinary day. I think I broke my foot last night. Well, maybe I didn't break it but I sure did something to it when
It’s early, and the sun is in my eyes and I think I should move, but I don’t. If the sun is in my eyes, it means it’s not really so early after all. How can it be? I’ve already spent hours reading, praying, and sitting in silence and still I’m hungry for more of
The pre-dawn sky looks something like this. Not quite, because the miracle never looks the same more than once. I watch as it grows more spectacular with every passing second. Glory, I say in the quiet of my mind. Gerry gets up to make coffee and pauses as he passes the east facing open door in
It’s just after dawn. The first magical rays of sun have just kissed my little part of the world. I’m back from being out in the yard, barefoot on the cool dewy grass, taking photos. I’d like to show you the magic but I’m not of the mind to open my laptop, download, and process
The day starts one way and ends another. As it winds down we sit in the hot tub talking about important things like clouds and the garden and some other less important things too. I watch the daisies dance in the breeze. It’s getting dark by the time we come in the house and I’m startled
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.