It's 10:00 am. This morning I have: prayed laughed enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee when I was the only one awake in the house taken a shower and gotten dressed made the bed talked with Gerry about something important talked with Makiya about other important things blanched and froze green beans offered suggestions on
For Today Looking out my window I see smoke. Again. I was just outside with the dogs and it's thick enough to smell. Not as thick as it has been but, according to the air quality index, it's high risk and unhealthy to be outside for long. Sigh. Another ibndoor day. There have been so
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,
We prepare for another day without electricity. Gerry backs the cars out of the garage (the automatic garage door won’t open with no power), I think about what to take out of the refrigerator so we won’t have to open it while it’s off, fill water bottles (yeah, I know we could drink tap water,
It’s not yet dawn when I stand at our living room window, mug of soy milky frothy coffee in hand, and look to the east. The sky above the distant mountains is pink and, with subtle brilliance, growing ever more mesmerizing. I know, having watched countless sunrises, that the brilliance will reach a peak, then
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information? T.S. Eliot, The Rock I heard these words spoken in a Masterpiece program we watched a few days ago and they stuck with me. Written close to a century ago, they speak clearly to the state of
I wake, for the first time in a long time, with a spark of hope in my spirit. Not a lot, but a glimmer, and a sense of new beginning. Spring arrives next week, maybe that’s part of it. Or maybe the time change caused something to shift in a Back-To-The-Future-ish manner. I don’t know,
I tune in online to watch the summer solstice at Stonehenge. It’s cloudy at Wiltshire, England and there isn’t much to see. The only sound is the wind. I watch for a while, remembering what it was like when Gerry and I stood on that ground in the cordoned off area looking at the stones,
When I decided to start playing with watercolour I was overwhelmed by choice. Paints, palettes, paper, brushes. I researched and studied and made decisions that were right for me—all the while washing paint on wet paper and being fascinated by the process. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to paint. Loose flowers, more true-to-life botanicals,
Amidst the cacophony there are those sitting on the ground looking, in awe, at the wonder of growing things. And others, gazing upward at a starry sky feeling infinitesimally small beneath it. Worshiping. And in the quiet comes wisdom that can’t be comprehended where attempts to be right or stronger manifests as louder. I do
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