My First summer in the mountains has been heavenly. The weather never got too hot and there was usually a gentle breeze whispering through the trees.
As I watch Dave stack our winter wood and gather our kindling, I continue to deny the arrival of fall. It has always been my favorite season and yet even our ripening apples do not excite me. I feel fall's silent approach in the crisp morning air beckoning me forward.
New beginnings come, reluctantly
like fall giving in to winters claim.
Winds sweeping away the dead of
fall, a shifting of life, a new day.
We have started anew, joyously
as our dreams drift like snowflakes
filling the trees with possibilities.
Blanketing us in quiet solitude.
The magic of Spring will come
whispering through the pines.
Rooted deeply in love, growth
emerging stronger in change.
Reflections on a summers eve
become blossoms of hope.
Opening to possibilities, joyfully
of living in the moment.
My wrist has been seen by an Orthopedist and he disagreed with the Radiologist. He took his own pictures and my wrist is NOT broken. Yayy!