7.28.15 It's not about confronting our greatest fears, but rather

Its not about confronting our greatest fears, but rather, doing what fits. What works.  The whole deal held honestly, with a soft touch, as we step along in our days.

7/27/15 Ah, the bright cast of sunset, along the staid sidewalks

7.28.15 It's a dark soupy morning

It's a dark soupy morning, the mist lying low, the grasses sodden, as we venture out into the day.

7.28.15 the quiet summer blossoming of Holly

7.28.15 As we live and breathe; as those irascible tendrils take hold

7.27.15 It's all about the garden, stepping out through the sopping wet morning dew

In addition to Eric's happy chickens and their expensive eggs, sold up the road, it's all about the garden, slipping on flip flops come morning, stepping our through the sopping wet morning dew, avoiding voracious mosquitoes, slapping arms and neck and legs, bending down and picking Rosemary and fragrant Basil and Oregano, pulling up an Onion from the rich dark soil, plucking a few tomatoes from the tall wild plants, selecting aromatic Parsley from the long tall row, a Pepper or two, and in we go, to chop and saute, as the aroma of fresh fresh comes floating about the house, and he notices, comes meandering down, kissing me, and we both make our way to the small kitchen table, as the mist outside swirls down the conservation field, and the Shepherd settles happily upon our feet.

7.27.15 So many Swallows

So many Swallows

with their deep blue and black and white small selves

dipping and sailing and swooping about

 around the field of Oats

 by the old Tobacco barn

 early very early in the morning

7.27.15 The dark figure on the road-that-has-no-homes

On my way back to my house, I drove by the road-that-has-no-homes, something created just before the economic crash a bit ago, so the paved straight road interests me, come deep snows of winter, or the myriad of wild flowers flourishing, come summer. The straight lines featuring the sky and the weather, until this early morning, when I was all alight with the fog everywhere, and how it changed all things, really. 

I stopped for a moment to gaze at the straight paved no-homes road, and there was one person, far at the end, walking back and forth, back and forth; I'm guessing to maximize the number of steps, and exercise, while not veering far from home. 

Or, you know, maybe they live far from here and travel to this very spot, all straight and no-home and all, to do this zig zag. I'm not certain. 

But the silhouette of the dark figure, going back and forth, held me captive for a bit, as ten zillion possible stories flooded my brain, til I bade them just to stop, stop, and I sank down into the damp dirt on my knees, the scent of the field filling me, the heady moist heat rising up all about me, as the figure slowly approached, and at last I decided to go home.

7.26.15 Down by the trail, the land basked in the warmth

Down by the trail, the land basked in the warmth of the summer sun, the grasses and trees bathed in a vigorous shower just moments before, and now, all was dripping, glistening, clean and thirstily drinking, as we left the path and wandered back home.

7.27.15 We all stand there, caught by the sudden view

We all stand there, caught by the sudden view of the light, the colors, or all the changing, happening so rapidly, in front of our eyes. As we walk down the street, leave the car, step outside to pick something from the garden for dinner, or glance outside at some point in our day. There is a moment, we learn, where everything is muted, and then there is this elevation of all things, this small opening of time, where it all does something, I'm not sure what. Because the cosmos, as far as we can discern, has no agenda. Life and light and planets and colors and atmosphere simply....are. And yet, with all that simply being, comes these times, when we, or other species, witness some moment in time, and we all stop for a bit, letting it sink far into ourselves, and then it passes, and of course, always, we are left changed.