Sometime during the night Gerry opens the door leading from our bedroom to the deck. Thanks to the cedars he removed a few weeks ago it opens on to an unobstructed view of mountain, valley, and big sky. This morning, a few clouds add interest. Pinks and blues step lightly around one another as the
A news source puts out a summary in the morning: What you need to know. Below the headline it lists bullet points and links to more detail about each of the “must know” stories. I glance at the headlines with a critical eye. Nope. Don’t need to know any of those things. I need to
I wake from a disturbing dream, bringing some of the burden with me, and feel the need to orient myself. It’s Thursday (though it feels like Monday after yesterday’s Canada Day holiday). The person in my dream hasn’t been in my life for decades. I have to go for blood work today. I listen to
I’m so weary. Of all of it. And I feel guilty for my tiredness because there’s work left to do. There’s truth to be touted (after wading through the weeds to figure out which truth is the true truth). There are causes to support (after investigating to get to the root of said causes to
The room is cold when I wake. Colder than, in my mind, it should be in June but there it is anyway. The fresh morning air filling the room through the open window is still a gift. I rise and pad to the kitchen for coffee. While it brews I survey the space I’ve been
I must have known it at some point but the knowledge that the sun rises due east on only the spring and fall equinoxes and that now, as we approach the summer solstice it’s more northeast, faded. Watching the sun rise over the hill on the other side of the ridge this morning confuses me.
The world groans and I am weary under the weight of it. We are in the “in between”: the place of uncertainty where distraction tries to take us from our better work. I stand in my kitchen and look out the window, over the top of a new top-down-bottom-up blind, at a treed hilltop I’ve