when i sing she doesn't care; when i whistle she looks at me expectantly
Wednesday, September 22, 2021
This post is from late August, 2006. I'm rather amused at myself because feelings about summer never change: Park trees I can't bear...
The mourning for the end of summer seems misplaced on the autumn equinox. Along with the sun there is a chill in the air. The window in my o...
Tuesday, September 14, 2021
The filmiest of screens
"Our normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of consciousness, whilst all about it, ...
Thursday, August 19, 2021
Let everything happen to you
After noon, the sun went away. It was here just long enough to tease the blowzy thistle flowers into the breeze, floating like dust motes in...
Tuesday, August 17, 2021
It wasn't long ago that I could cartwheel across a lawn and did at every opportunity. I haven't tried lately. This was at Kew a few ...
Monday, February 22, 2021
Three Four things: 1) Listen to this Nunc Dimittis by Arvo Pärt. Sacred music at its very best. 2) I've plugged in a calming aromathe...
Friday, January 22, 2021
The Hill We Climb
I keep returning to the last stanza of Amanda Gorman's extraordinary Inauguration poem, The Hill We Climb. This is absolutely beautiful:...
Tuesday, January 05, 2021
The sky is milky and the red-tailed hawks are circling the house, floating on the wind. You'd think it were winter, but the magnolia tre...
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