I've been using a mental whisk broom to collect my 2021 details into a tidy pile. I look them over, and then… what? Resolve to do better, repeat what works, lose my frantic grip on what doesn't? It was the worst of times, but it was also the best.
With daily temps hovering just below freezing we just walk the neighborhood as usual, round and round.
...here I am, still trying to make my peace with winter. I turn my back on the gray skies, annoyed, wondering when blue would win out, watching and hoping it would peek through, a ray of hope. I calculate outings for the best of weathers.
Getting ourselves back to the garden, almost able to touch Mt. Hood.
The Japanese Garden may seem like a cacophony of design and yet, as soon as I pass that first archway, a quiet descends, a transformative hush. My busy mind is left behind.
It's an in-between time around here. Red, yellow, and orange leaves cover the ground and linger in the tree branches, hanging on til the next big winds. Rain alternates between torrents and sprinkles. I've just been in a "should I stay or should I go" sort of mood.
So much to see in this little botanic garden. Enjoy an early autumn walk with me - the micro, the macro, the sublime.
Being with children side by side and from a distance.
Sticks and stones, ivy and conifers, patience and stillness, oblivious to outside world. Come walk with us.
I've been mulling over the ordinary things in life: my pen and paper, cold water, the tomato and eggplant. They transform as soon as I take notice, revealing something extraordinary.