Snagged a few moments of quiet this morning before setting the dogs loose into the frost. With each turning of the season and the ever-revolving door of the years, I am continually grateful for my three constants: my family, my home, and my Labrador-children.
So, in 2019 I did a “thing” I’d wanted to do for several years and finally started a Reading-Journal.
There for awhile, I couldn’t remember what my voice sounded like. Not my physical voice, per say, but the voice I wrote with and used to broadcast who I really was. It was almost as if some essential piece of myself was tumbling, lost…
I don’t have much advice to offer that’s worth a damn but I do know this: Never once have I taken a walk and regretted it.
The most purpose I’ve ever felt was with a pen in my hand- with words like whispers, dancing across my knuckles.
And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a safe-keeper.” So God made a farmer’s wife.
Home always smells different when the water is high.
“When I call to mind my earliest impressions, I wonder whether the process ordinarily referred to as growing up is not actually a process of growing down; whether experience, so much touted among adults as the thing children lack, is not actually a progressive…