6 a.m., nothing
The ground is shifting
Change is inevitable
I adjust my gaze
Once upon a time I found this sweet little metal bear pepper shaker for cheap at a flea market.
Once upon another time I was given this miniature chair. The bear fit nicely in the chair, I thought!
Very often when I am busy and my house is a mess (which is very, very often of late), I have certain knowledge that I have too many things. Too many objects for which I have taken on responsibility. But then on a morning like today, I walk into my kitchen and see this little bear on his chair and I am tickled. Stuff — and nonsense — makes my heart so very glad sometimes.
The crispness, the depth and beautifully subtle color of the clouds tonight had me holding my breath and scrambling for a way to capture, to engage, to celebrate and share. Standing in the yard alone. Grab the camera. Catch the faintest echo. I wish you were here!
Just last week it was bitter cold. We were wearing our gloves inside. The air seemed brittle. I didn’t want to touch it.
This morning I drove through miles of silver clouds. The still bare trees emerged out of the blueish haze so near the side of the road — haunting and softly beautiful. I wanted to stay there, to stop and experience the slow shifting of light and moisture.
This evening all was absolutely clear, deliciously warm. The clouds didn’t even sneak into the sky until I was 10 miles from home. This expansion of space was breathtaking. My heart and lungs ached to take it in.
At home with the windows open, I was surprised by the distinctive sound of Spring peepers. Maybe we have finally arrived, once again, at the sweetest season.
Sun and solitude
My cozy little corner
A Sunday retreat
Cat. Lap. Zzzz.