For the days of hard work and the sweet rest that follows;
for naps with my little one, and the time we spend awake before even the roosters next door crow;
for a return to pen and paper and the stories my heart wants to tell;
for the challenges of tension and hardness that gives way to connection and softness;
for the icicles crashing from the northern eaves of this home and the leaves poking from wet earth like the return of old friends;
for the cycles of creativity and fertility that move us from production to fallowness, and from speaking to listening;
for the mystery of all of this unfolding,
I give thanks.
I made this little scene with cutouts from a calendar years ago, and sadly have forgotten the name of the artist. Do any locals recognize the work?