Gratitude * Sunday
Sunday’s heartfelt tradition.
A time to slow down,
to be grateful.
A list of gratitudes.
Our gratefulness feeds one another.
Quoted from Taryn Wilson
Joining the Gratitude Sunday Tradition at Wooly Moss Roots.
Warm wind on my skin,
spring’s summer premonition,
lightning storm threatens.
How did this happen? The hubster is 60 years old today. Where has it gone? Have we been right here all the time? Time is such a strange and fluid thing. Though it happens every minute, first you have too much of it, then there’s not enough. Never enough of the strange element we call time, the passing of hours and days and nights. Interesting the way we mark the aging process with a full rotation of the earth around the sun, rather than the graying of the hair, or the widening of the hips, or the bend in the back. Perhaps we’d say to each other, remember when your hair was darker, or when you were slimmer, or when you still stood straight, rather than a year date.
We’re tough old coots, the two of us, been through hell, survived it, probably go there again and get through it again, not for wanting to, but because life happens and it isn’t always good or according to the book or the plan. That’s what people of character do. They live their lives with as much dignity and grace as they can muster, and get through it and on with it. And though his disease gives him much pain, I am selfish enough to be grateful he is here to share another revolution around the sun with.
Flower Watch – blooming attractions in my neighborhood this week: la petite lilac, a bushy thigh-high plant with lavender colored blossoms; scotch broom; daylilies; columbine; snowball bush; calla lilies; a peony I didn’t recognize because it was as tall as me and three times as big around with blossoms the size of my head, I had to take a closer look!; all the colors of the rhododendron, the pale pinks, light pinks, bright pinks, reds, lavenders, whites, and the unusuals with the colored throats, my beloved favorite uncle knew each by name and the only ones I can remember is the Blue Peter, the darkest purple and closest to a true blue color, and Sappho, a white with a dark purple throat.
New Sunday Feature Beginning in May: Currently Reading
Currently Reading: Bait and Switch by Barbara Ehrenreich; The Rich and The Rest of Us by Tavis Smiley and Cornel West; Milk Money by Kirk Kardashian; and Quiet: the Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain. Yes, concurrently.
This week I have been grateful for:
- Pink cherry blossom “snow” drifts. And for this mild spring when some folks in our nation are still having real snow.
- Open doors and fresh spring air.
- The first warm enough day to leave the doors open well into the evening. We are so blessed with mostly non-polluted, fresh air here.
- Birdsong: nature’s accompaniment to my evening constitutional and morning’s organic alarm clock.
- Grape leaves.
- A successful attempt with a liver pâté recipe.
- Doing a little cleaning and finding something my mother couldn’t find because she’d already given it to me. She feels better now about losing her mind less. I’m glad she does. But I’m less sure about me!
- Mr Fred Rogers. May he rest in peace. He is always with us.
- An invite to go to the beach with an old friend from school, elementary, that is. I haven’t walked on the beach for more than two years. That’s a sacrilege for an Oregonian. I can’t wait.
- Celebrating the hubster’s 60th birthday today, Cinco de Mayo. He got a new phone, a fishing license, a season pass to the local lake, a small tub of fishing worms, and hugs and kisses. What more does one need?
Namaste. Peace. Blessings.