Wednesday, April 9, 2014


Moving, moving, I have kept moving today. From tasks to walk to more tasks. Mostly outside, my spirit has been restless, not exactly filled with anxiety but more a sense of fretful discomfort.

Nothing I have done today has amounted to anything at all for this world and yet, I am not sure that is my job at all. Such a sense of power, we humans have! We can change the world!

Well, I fucking can't.

Here. I weeded this bed in which I planted the ferns, dug up from the woods and brought back, a few at a time from walks. I planted the camellias and the Ash Magnolia which is about to bloom.


The sun is going down. The light is fantastic. 
Time to cook again. 

7 comments:

  1. I can't either, Mary. I can't even clean my craft room. I wish you were here cooking for me because I'd eat whatever you made! And I'd be grateful!

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  2. You are exactly right, more than enough, there in your realm.

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  3. Beautiful day here. We dug in the dirt too. My love went for a massage.

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  4. I weeded dandelions today. Many, many dandelions. I thought of you while I was doing it and sent a prayer your way.

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  5. I love the word Magnolia, and digging, and dirt and flowers and your writing.

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  6. it's beautiful. I miss my old city house sometimes with it's established greenery. so much lawn here, so much space to fill.

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  7. I don't know how you manage all the work. I'd have to have a micro-wave hot pack SUIT.

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