It’s beautiful out here…


324. kisses on the eyelids, so tender

325. the little bird that finds me in a parking lot, drinks water from the lid of my water bottle when I bend down to answer his question

unless

unless (Photo credit: Dean Terry)

326. dog napping at my feet

327. the first writing morning in a long number of days

328. returning to gratitude

329. summer birthdays

330. wine and sweetheart cherries in the candle lit garden

331. friends around the table

332. teenagers sleeping in late

333. teenagers who are gainfully employed

334. husband rising for work

335. healthy bodies

336. the possible

337. “Unless” by Carol Shields

338. remembering Port Townsend tribe

339. opportunities presenting when eyes and hands are open

340. friends who are patient and kind

341. morning sounds

342. finding poems where you least expect

343. considering laundry

344. God who never grows tired, never gives up, waits while I do both

345. wrinkles that prove living

346. a face held by hands, top of head kissed and life words spoken

347. directors of my spirit, soul friends

348. anticipating solitude

349. family holiday plans

350. blueberry waffle plans for tomorrows breakfast

351. photography and captured moments

352. children who pull away, grow strong, test wings

353. young adult son full license success

354. reminders of those with less that teach me more

355. reminders that intentions are not enough

356. reminders to act, phone, speak, write, touch, walk, move…

357. harvest… always

Different kinds of cherries

Different kinds of cherries (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Day 17… gifts my camera saw


237. – 262. 

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Naming one thousand gifts… day 13, 14 and 15



207. sumac hugging the banks of the upper Don River Valley

208. church spire above urban sprawl

209. old brick houses that someone still loves

210. hugging Dad

211. hugging Mom

212. playing silly hand clapping games with my neice

213. phone calls home

214. realizing home and the place you grew up are two different things

215. split rail fences

216. patina, erosion, moss, and all things that measure time passing

217. finding the one trophy I ever won for being a ‘good citizen’ in grade school

218. new and old things to photograph

219. preparing a meal for my parents

220. Hummingbird at Mom’s feeder

221. the kindness of the Go bus driver who let me ride with no cash to pay for my fare

222. moon shining on  my bed

223. internet access after a few days without it

224. playing childhood piano in the livingroom

225. good food, wine and conversation in local cafe

Naming one thousand gifts… my beginning.


1. the sound of still evening… the lingering of light.

2. sharing some takeout with my two teen sons… and talking.

3. their the last day of school… again. Tears and smiles, another year closer to graduation.

4. nose in a fresh picked peony, breathing a memory.

5. full on hugs… an arm around a shoulder.

6. the sky light glow behind blue grey muted mountains.

7. magpies final calls across the dusk.

8. a beginning of noting gratitude.

English: White peony flower Русский: Цветок бе...

English: White peony flower Русский: Цветок белого пиона (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In thousands of little ways… Art Suke.


Another year gone past, and suddenly the day is upon me. If it weren’t for Karen’s post on Facebook, I would have missed it. And that makes me feel sad and a little guilty. And then I think of how we miss you in thousands of little ways, the daily-ness of missing you, and how that missing is somehow just as heavy as landmark dates like today.

Two years ago we said goodbye. I hope you understand, Art, how we much we still feel the void.

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The Oak Tree, by Claire Evans

The thick strong branches sway in the breeze,

as the roots bathe in the rich earth.

The leaves rustle and some drift to the ground.

Chocolate chipmunks scurrying to gather acorns in the long grass.

The bark rugged and brown. Birds singing on the branches,

as another day goes by.