Such a spectacular fall! Enjoying every day and appreciating the fleeting beauty.

1. Martha out my window

2. My Loop

3. Bringing Kelly to work.
4. Grethe waiting for her kiss.
​5. My new baggy yoga pants.

Another year gone by. There were some very dark times for me. I've finally decided to let go and holy smokes, it actually worked. Read lots of Pema and listened to Michael. (Thanks for helping, guys.)
Today I did my yoga and touched some peace. Something I didn't think was possible a few weeks ago. I am almost 57 and I am still learning about this damn life. Wow.

1. This soft air.
2. Coriander, what a surprise.
3. My flowers.
4. This house that I once loathed.
5. Possibilities. Thank you, Nick.

It’s a rollercoaster. Trying to keep my head above water. This time is the perfect example of when it feels impossible to find the good, yet the little things are there. They are all I have.

​1. Tosha

2. My spaceship.
3. My yoga room.
4. The sun in the guest room.
​5. The tin ceiling.

So many changes.

We sold my dream. We moved to California. We moved back. We a living in a place that is far from the dream. I’ve been hospitalized and I’m healing. I wake empty and cry throughout the day. I have not been responding well.

Last night, after the dinner to celebrate my 56th birthday, I kissed my babies goodnight and had a revelation. These babies are just entering puberty and I recognize the heartbreaking changes—they don’t talk to me as much (and when they do, we tend to argue), the sweetness is fading and the cynicism growing. I’ve been through it before…twice. It was pissing me off and adding to my recent misery.

But they still kiss me goodnight.

It’s my birthday, and I have decided to stop it. Time is going to march on, whether I am weeping or not. Those boys are going to continue to grow away from me, but they are here NOW. I need to appreciate it ALL.

During the pandemic, I got so tired of everyone talking about gratitude that it made this effort seem trite. So I stopped. The result has not been a positive one. So here I go again, on my 20,440th day on this planet, I will record my 5 Grate Things.

1. My husband making a cake for me.
2. The cards from my boys.
3. The calls from Luke and Grethe.
4. The lovely couch that holds me.
5. Two dry houses.
​

Far more than 5 things here...

"All you can do is face the world with quiet grace and hope you make a sliver of difference. Humility does not mean self-abnegation, lassitude, detachment; it's more a calm recognition that you must trust in that which does not make sense, that which is unreasonable, illogical, silly, ridiculous, crazy by the measure of most of our culture. You must trust that you being the best possible you matters somehow. That trying to be an honest and tender parent will echo for centuries through your tribe. That doing your chosen work with creativity and diligence will shiver people far beyond your ken. That being an attentive and generous friend and citizen will prevent a thread or two of the social fabric from unraveling. And you must do all of this with the certain knowledge that you will never get proper credit for it, and in fact the vast majority of things you do right will go utterly unremarked.

Humility, the final frontier, as my brother Kevin used to say. When we are young we build a self, a persona, a story in which to reside, or several selves in succession, or several at once, sometimes; when we are older we take on other roles and personas, other masks and duties; and you and I both know men and women who become trapped in the selves they worked so hard to build, so desperately imprisoned that sometimes they smash their lives simply to escape who they no longer wish to be; but finally, I think, if we are lucky, if we read the book of pain and loss with humility, we realize that we are all broken and small and brief, that none among us is ultimately more valuable or rich or famous or beautiful than another; and then, perhaps, we begin to understand something deep and true about humility.

This is what I know: that the small is huge, that the tiny is vast, that pain is part and parcel of the gift of joy, and that this is love, and then there is everything else. You either walk toward love or away from it with every breath you draw. Humility is the road to love. Humility, maybe, is love. That could be. I wouldn't know; I'm a muddle and a conundrum shuffling slowly along the road, paging in wonder, trying to just see and say what is, trying to leave shreds and shards of ego along the road like wisps of litter and chaff."

~ Brian Doyle

A simple stroll on a beautiful, early summer morning leads to My 5 (simple) grate things.

Peonies
The beauty of the underside
Hike day
​Clouds and leaves

These past few mornings have been spectacular. Chilly and sunny (too cold for the blackflies!) and gradually warming as I sip my tea and listen to the birds. I slowly get to remove my hat and coat and enjoy the peace.

As I went into the house, I got a whiff of my favorite wee spring flower. Lilies-of-the-Valley are starting to bloom! Reminds me of 2 Main.

I love walking under this tree...all the busy bees and the beautiful blooms, the sun peeking through. Thank you for putting it here, Janet.