Spring is sprung!
Outside my window 20 miles north from where the World Trade Center used to be yellow pansies and mint leafed begonia the color of snow blossom beneath a sparkling ball of yellow in a turquoise sky. Morning dew glistens green grass. A woodpecker hammers the bark of an aging oak.
Ahhh, spring is in the air!
Today, welcome all widows to our joyous club.
Gather round. Form a circle. Time for a huge cybernet hug.
We're not alone.
Today's mourning quote is lovingly borrowed from "Arroyo, a novel" by Summer Wood:
"To feel the landscape as a body is to feel your mouth melt, subject to grief and to longing
And dirt, even
How does dirt register the coming of winter"
After we remember Him, fingerhug your pen.
The topic is dirt.
Open your joy-nal.
Set the timer for ten minutes.
Go ahead. I dare you.