Sometimes you have to step back into the past to find a way to move forward. Actually I just made that up; I don't know if it's true. But doesn't it sound good? I went back to my old home for a week. What did I find? Sustenance, encouragement, joy, beauty, camaraderie. Oh and warmth. A jumping off place. I don't know what's next, but I feel good since coming back; the tank is full. That's good, because I'm writing this in record snowfall.
covid
Doing Nothing
I thought, in passing, one October morning, that I would not write anything that day. This is rare for me, but I had nothing to say. I felt wrung dry and wordless. Alan was isolating due to Covid, and I'd been on my own for a while.
Living in a Poem
Our hazy 80 degree Augtober days are coming to an end. The rains march inexorably closer, and will put out fires, clear the air, and bring… what, I don't know. Naomi Shihab Nye says, “You are living in a poem.”
Back to the Garden
You can't turn your back on nature around here. Even after a dozen visits to the same place, it's different every time. In Portland's temperate rainforest what's here today is gone the next. What wasn't here recently, unexpectedly shows up. We had the rainiest April in history and the only recorded April snowfall as well. Add in some intermittent sunshine, and Elk Rock Garden was again delightful.
Pondering Stillness
Sticks and stones, ivy and conifers, patience and stillness, oblivious to outside world. Come walk with us.
Rivers and Roads PDX 