Ann Voskamp has done it for me again. I really like this post and might have sniffled my way through. Here’s a taste: She writes it on my chart: Tipped into failure. It’s right there in ink. ****** You’ve got to be kidding me — I haven’t just tipped into heart failure just right now.
I repotted some trees on the weekend, trees I was freely given that were bursting out of their cheap green plastic pots. The picture was one of those trees in autumn, and it is not yet early spring, but the potting called to mind this poem in any case. It’s so true. We may consider
I have been spared another day to come into this night as though there is a mercy in things mindful of me. ~ Wendell Berry A Poem of Thanks A little poetry for a Friday evening.
Two Plays The other week I went to two plays in one week (it never rains but it pours). Constellations, by British playright Nick Payne (he could be some long lost relative), was suitably entertaining. There were only two actors on stage, who repeated the same scenes over and over with slightly different outcomes. I
I went far away and off the grid again on Saturday. I had actually been thinking that ‘I really need a Saturday’ to just be and get organised on the home front. Then the invitation came through mid-week for another bushwalk, and I thought, ‘what the heck, I’m going’. If there’s people going on a