A vivid sunset splashes gold and mauve across the underbellies of puffy clouds, while the half moon plays hide and seek—waiting for her turn to paint the sky. I sit on a driftwood log at the beach, breathing the sunset into my soul. Just before dark a ragged line of 21 geese straggles up the bay, low and slow over my head. Their black silhouettes are brief phantoms, silent except for the whoosh of wings against still air. There is one weak honk when the lagoon is sighted—the longing for rest I sense in us both.
Continue reading...4. September 2008
“The true harvest of my life is intangible - a little star dust caught, a portion of the rainbow I have clutched.”
Continue reading...1. September 2008
The wild cherry trees here feed me. Not to eat them—they are indeed as bitter as the field guides warn—but they sustain me in a more important way. I see this tall quartet of trees out my windows and savor their presence in my life. They are standing spirits anchoring us both to the earth. They feed my soul every day as they offer their shelter and bounty to passing tanagers and goldfinches. Their fluttering or degree of bend tells me the wind speed. I use them as a barometer of the seasons. In spring they bloom a creamy white, then leaf out to lush green in summer.
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5. September 2008
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