A difficult week with such tender luminous slivers of hope threaded between the moments. Saturday. A day for the hobbit to be in nature’s sanctuary and heal. But no, no morning walk. Waiting for workmen who promised they’d be here. Laughed to see the squirrels running and pigeons circling as I put out the morning seed buffet. Cleaned out kitchen drawers muttering disbelief at things I’d tucked away. Discovered I’m not a hobbit. I’m a pack rat. Attempted to clean the spring high grass with the weed eater. Had to stop every minute and re-thread using both hands and my feet. Do people really have hands that big and fingers that nimble to hold and thread? No workmen. Walked down the hill to the city park. A leaf furiously danced straight at me. I laughed. Then I cried. It was a feather. Washed my little plastic table and chair so I could sit on the porch. Sprayer leaked all over my shoes. Blood sugar dropping. Needed to eat. Decided to try the new apple core thingy. Hands not strong enough. Had to get a step stool to put me higher and with more leverage. Discovered caramel and apples should probably be a controlled substance. Oh my sweet tooth soul…….. Took my lawn chair out and laid in the sun. The wind and sun wove their shawls all over my body as the birds sang. No workmen. Took a cup of coffee, my little iPod and headphones, my incense burner, and feather out to sit on the porch and enjoy the end of the day. Wind returned and tried to blow the stick of incense and feather away. All retrieved I sat and gave thanks. A Robin hopped around where the grass had been cleaned with the weed eater. A day of slivers. A day of rest. A day as it should be. Like incense blowing in the wind.
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