knee deep in weeds

notes on a simple life

waking up

“You create a path of your own by looking within yourself and listening to your soul, cultivating your own ways of experiencing the sacred and then practicing it. Practicing until you make it a song that sings you.” 
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter


there is the first dahlia, and fresh bread,
and so much to notice, if i pause and pay attention

For always, always, we are waking up and then waking up some more.
— Sue Monk Kidd

Baker grows overnight, comes when he is called,
barks for his dinner, loves any toy that squeaks,
and chews on anything that gets near his mouth

we wake to rain one morning,
after several days in the 90's,
the air smells so fresh and clean,
I consider dancing  . . . 


i reflect on turning 64 in a few days,
and suddenly feel all grown up. i make a do not do list,
and contemplate fresh corn fritters for dinner.


we take Baker to Mt Baker so they can meet, 
mostly trying to beat the heat, but the hot stagnate air
follows us, and he and i are both ready for
the air conditioning when we get back in the car 


have a great weekend,