This is what I was looking at through supper last night. The little bear hanging on to his daddy's shirt. His eyes got heavier and heavier until finally, they closed and he slept. He is so perfectly tended and surrounded in love. As soon as Vergil got off the roof and took his shower, he went and got his baby and held him and Boppy got some time in, holding him as well.
The sky is gray and heavy this morning and I need to take a walk, see if I can get some of the weeding in that I never got to yesterday before it rains. The anxiety which held itself at arm's length for a few days seems to be creeping back. One of my eyes is scarlet and I have no idea why. It doesn't appear to be goopy or itchy and it doesn't hurt.
Maybe I have a brain tumor.
This incredibly strange paradox of having it all and I mean in the real sense, and yet, at the same time, feeling the way I do is so mysterious.
It's all a conundrum. The zebra-winged butterflies are visiting the still-blooming fire spike.
What a strange year.