About life, death and healing.
The farm, our farm, IS a lot of work; it is also a great source of joy and personal satisfaction. It’s not just the big picture of it, but the little scenes that make my heart sing. A hundred times a day these things catch me – – first my eye, then my heart. I am swept up in the beauty of it, the intimate moments that arise because we are woven together, both two-legged and four-legged, in a web of caretaking and daily living. Someone is always eager to share those moments with me.
I hate being called out. Gordy actually knows this about me and, while that knowledge doesn’t stop him from doing it,
I joined a writers group. I am not entirely certain about this. It is a difficult thing figuring out the
Molly is a little bit afraid of the thunder. I know this because a storm scuttles in the distance causing
I am an interpreter of a language of small things. There are some days when this is mostly all of
We are home. We have mostly worked through the inevitable fatigue and mental distortion of criss-crossing the planet and today we are