showing itself ever… only a tender cocoon… readying us for the life… yet to come.
"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most dazzling view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds." – Edward Abbey
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Sometimes that is the way of nature, I know, some things are born and survive, and some simply don’t.
Instead of getting weary… I’m waking up. Coming out of that strange sort of summer sleepwalk, emerging like a hibernating bear of southern latitudes.
for an endless instant,
to stop, this miracle in motion,
nature’s hidden, fragile light,
beautiful and boundless…
mistakes and failures, big and small, all equals now, churned together, dredged up and left awash, to remind or regret once more…
Painting, I’ve found is quite a different thing to attempt… and I never seem to approach it the same way twice.
I dove right in to the challenge the house and those gardens presented. And the love of it all spread and thrived inside me.