My Christmas cactus is in bloom. Pretty and pink on my kitchen windowsill, it is a spark of joy in the dark and early morning as I wait for the Keurig to do its very important work. I saw something that explained, based on the shape, the difference between Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter cactuses. Maybe
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
I putter around in my kitchen putting lunch dishes in the dishwasher and wiping counters. I empty the coffee pot and grind beans for the next morning’s must-have elixir. I snip Thai and Genovese basil leaves from plants growing in my Aerogarden, putting them in dishes for later use. I rub my thumb and forefinger on thyme
There’s just something about tulip stems. Graceful, subtle, and smooth: they have no thorns. They stand stall, quietly doing the job of supporting the more visible thing: the tulip flower itself. When cut, and separated from the energy in the bulb, they soon grow weary and bend. They stoop low, even before the flowers begin to
We take a drive because the sun is shining, and it’s too bad that the mountains are in the way of the view, I think it every time. The colours of autumn are gone now, the season’s finery crisp beneath our feet, and messy. It’s stick season. I hold my camera on my lap, and
Every day, I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight. Mary Oliver A woman, white-haired and a little bit shaky on her feet, looking at stuffies and other little children’s treasures in the store, smiling wide as she picks up each one for a closer look. Perhaps she is thinking
. . . for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. Philippians 4:11 ESV After lunch, we three take our cameras and head to a favourite park. First stop is the butterfly garden. It is awash with colourful blossoms—the tall, old-fashioned, hollyhocks the most prominent among them. Gerry and I wander