Morning

Long before dawn I’m awake. It’s still mostly dark as I reach for my iPad to read for a while, and tap out some words. Through the open door, the eastern sky takes on a pinkish hue. Lines cut across it: whether clouds or contrails I can’t yet tell. They might make an interesting photograph

Rich

I write in the morning, weaving threads and creating tapestry, lost in the process. In the afternoon, I settle into my favourite spot on the deck with a book, and a highlighter, and a Yorkie on my lap. I read slowly—rereading when I realize I’m skimming—setting my book down now and then, when a hummingbird buzzes

Simple

I have a propensity to overcomplicate things. Spring reminds me of the wisdom of simplicity. Breathing morning air, spending an hour or so on the deck with a book, puttering in the garden (watering with a nozzle on the hose), these things fill me with gentle joy and gratitude. A simple salad of garden fresh

Sunrise Service

Another early morning and I’m out in the yard in my pajamas, camera in hand, trying to capture an image of the skies declaring the glory of God. This barefoot sixty-year-old woman, with sleep-tousled hair who is dodging spray from the sprinklers and lifting her Canon in praise, is having church out there. Don’t let

May Days

The sky this morning is gray, and rain fell during the night. It’s still raining, I suspect, judging by the sweet scent coming in through the open door in our bedroom. It looks much like most of last month looked out there, but it is decidedly different. This particular gray morning comes on the heels

Monday in May

And so, Monday. The morning, fresh and full of hope, as yet unmarried by noise, and busy, and those wild things that come to stir things up. Now there is peace and promise, and the wonder that comes with quiet anticipation. We ask, in the quiet place of unknowing, questions that unnerve us. We pray,

Perspective

It is ridiculously late (for me) when I wake. At first, I’m dismayed when I realize that I’ve overslept and that the sun is already up. I’ve missed the sweetest hours. Then I remember the reason: that I was awake long during the night, and that some wisdom came in those solitary silent hours. And