"One may prefer spring and summer to autumn and winter, but preference is hardly to the point. The earth turns, and we live in the grain of nature, turning with it."
— Robert Hass, Twentieth Century Pleasures: Prose on Poetry
The week was full of quiet and time spent digging in the dirt with blue sky and warmth from the sun, on my face and back.
The dog pulled a muscle in his leg, so our walks were more of a dawdle than an actual walk, which really is his preference. It is me who pushed him along, trying to get his nose off the ground.
There is an abundance a beauty at ground level in the PNW this time of year and i encourage you to get down on your knees for a look, unless your ground is still covered in snow.
"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."
— J.R.R. Tolkien (The Hobbit)
I sat, off and on one day, tying to come up with a new look for this space, but in end reverted it all back with a few minor tweaks. I am however, trying out a new page of ramblings a few times a week ( they will not be delivered to your email so you will need to come to the site to read them). You can find them on the top header under the words tab, if you are so inclined. Early in the week I ran into an old friend at Costso. We caught up a bit and she filled my heart with joy when she shared with me how much she enjoys my weekly post, Her words were so kind.
thank you. . .
Holy smokes, these words spoke to me so. . .
"The first fact of the world is that it repeats itself. I had been taught to believe that the freshness of children lay in their capacity for wonder at the vividness and strangeness of the particular, but what is fresh in them is that they still experience the power of repetition, from which our first sense of the power of mastery comes. Though predictable is an ugly little world in daily life, in our first experience of it we are clued to the hope of a shapeliness in things. To see that power working on adults, you have to catch them out: the look of foolish happiness on the faces of people who have just sat down to dinner is their knowledge that dinner will be served. Probably, that is the psychological basis for the power and the necessity of artistic form...Maybe our first experience of form is the experience of our own formation...And I am not thinking mainly of poems about form; I’m thinking of the form of a poem, the shape of its understanding. The presence of that shaping constitutes the presence of poetry."
— Robert Hass
This guy is at the vet right now. We finally had that huge, ugly wart taken off his chest as I was afraid he was going to catch it on something. Not to mention I had to crop it out of all his pictures. They just called and he can come home in an hour.
A tiny garden, a gift from my sister. Complete with a fisherman gnome and tiny little creatures (some handmade by her).
how was your week?