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Windy and hot

Nearing the end.

The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched.

— Henry D. Thoreau

Rain is needed.

The natural world can offer us more than the means to survive, on the one hand, or mortal risks to be avoided, on the other: it can offer us joy.


There can be occasions when we suddenly and involuntarily find ourselves loving the natural world with a startling intensity, in a burst of emotion which we may not fully understand, and the only word that seems to me to be appropriate for this feeling is joy.

~ Michael McCarthy, The Moth Snowstorm

And yet there is water, water, everywhere.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been less than two weeks since we returned to the island and the ranch.  It feels longer, as if we’ve been here forever.  M and I continue to get caught up and settled in with indoor and outdoor chores.  Most of the planting we wanted to do is done.  We might be a little late getting some of the seeds in the ground, but the growing season here is fairly long so it might work out.  Rain, however, is desperately needed.  We water, of course, but water from the hose is not the same as rain when it comes to plants growing and thriving.  Water from the clouds is what is wanted and needed.

The sage has been quite happy in the heat.

On a trip up to the grocery store recently it was evident that the farmers are wishing for rain, too.  The cornfields are parched and cracked, the plants much smaller than they usually are at this point in the growing season.

There is a chance for rain and storms later today.  Let’s hope the rain, at least, materializes.

Lemon Fizz.

In between the usual chores and the daily living, I’ve been reading a lot.  Books, online articles, things I put aside for another day.  There are so many words out there.  It’s hard to keep up.  Here are a couple of good, online reads:

A baby on the boardwalk who didn’t seem too happy about being shoved out of the nest. The little chickadees were quite a raucous group.

I picked up the book Aging as a Spiritual Practice by Lewis Richmond and started reading it yesterday.  I’m only as far as the first exercise in the first chapter and can already tell it will be a difficult read.  It won’t be difficult in terms of writing style.  It is well written and doesn’t seem to be a dry read.  The difficulty will come in the exercises and practices, in the emotions they bring up.  The first exercise, for instance, is about recalling when you first became aware of the fact that you are aging.  The author refers to it as Lightning Strikes (as in, “Lightning Strikes in the moment we truly wake up to our aging and can see the full significance of it in our whole life, from its unremembered beginning to its unknown end.”).  It is that moment when we see things as they really are.  It can be a life changing moment in both positive and negative ways.

A grumpy Gus.

For me, the first of those Lightning Strikes moments was when a good friend died in 2016.  His death was all tied up in the election of that year (he died just a few days before) which further complicated things.  The grief and shock made me feel as if we’d somehow entered a parallel universe.  Among the shocks was the reality that someone our age could die.  It’s not that we think of ourselves as immortal or that death is impossible, but… maybe we do think that in some way, don’t you think?  There is certainly denial, to some degree.  Then something happens to remind us not only of our own mortality but also the mortality of those we love.  Loss is inevitable.

We expect our elders to die, but our peers?  That’s entirely different.  There has been more of that over the past year with colleagues, acquaintances, and family members dying.  Some of it was pandemic related, some of it was not.  Every time we talk with certain family members, the question comes up, “Who died?” because it seems like that’s usually the first news.

There are little ones everywhere to remind us of birth, beginnings, and life.

Somewhere along the way, I read the phrase that death is a habit of the body and that just as we prepare for the birth of a child, we should prepare for death.  I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.  I figure I’ll start with aging and work my way up.  Life (and death) might have other things in mind, but I have to start somewhere.  Acceptance of the aging process seems like a good beginning.

Small offerings.

There are glad tidings when it comes to aging.  My grandchildren have brought such joy into my life.  Some relationships have deepened.  I feel a little bit wiser than I did in my earlier years.  I’m not sure there is truth to that.  I hope there is.  It would be a damn shame to reach this stage of life and not be slightly more enlightened.  The greatest thing I know is that I know very little.  Just that is enough to open me up to learning.

A tiny flower. (Blue-eyed grass.)

It will be interesting to see where Aging as a Spiritual Practice leads me.  I already have my eye on death in the form of an online course about it.  But, as I mentioned earlier, one thing at a time.


I reckon that’s about it from me and from the Wabi-Sabi Ranch on this scorching hot and humid day.  If you’re game and willing to put up with the heat, let’s meet at the Point for sunset.  Maybe we’ll get lucky and it will rain while we’re out there.  I wouldn’t mind that in the least.  Sunset is scheduled for 8:16 PM.  The water is warming up and I hear it’s comfortable for swimming now.  Bring your swim suit, if you’re so inclined.  We missed the full moon last night (and the night before) due to clouds.  I’m hoping we might get a glimpse of it tonight if the clouds move through with the rain/storm possibilities.

Please be safe, be well, and be kind.  ♥

I will probably take a million photos of the daisies. They make me feel happy when I see them.

A few of the 10,000 reasons to be happy:  1,781)  Anything that makes me (or any of us) smile.  1,782)  Baby bunnies and grumpy chickadees.  1,783)  Spotting my first Scarlet Tanager.  He was in the trees in the cemetery.  1,784)  An evolving art journaling practice thanks to Julie Gibbons’ Mandala Magic: ALIGNMENT course.  I stopped taking things literally and I am beginning to create my own symbols.  1,785)  Caramel.  And chocolate.  ♥

Facing the sun.


Robin is...

20 thoughts on “Windy and hot

  1. While I’ve recognized for years that I’m getting older – the body creaks more, the energy level is lower, the face is more wrinkled, more parts sag – it was the pneumonia episode in October that moved me to my daughter’s that made me really acknowledge that I’m getting older. “The old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be”. It’s inevitable – it’s part of life, the ending of it. But I’m hoping for more years yet. I have more I want to do.


    Liked by 2 people

    1. I’m hoping you have more years, too. It seems to me that having more you want to do might be one of the keys to longevity. It certainly makes what life we have interesting — this desire to keep doing and learning. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Jane Fonda calls the years after 60, ‘my third and final act.’ While we hope it is a long one, only time will tell. Accepting that we are not in control is the hardest part! This past year + has really brought the possibility of my demise into sharper focus than it had been before. What we can control is our attitude, exercise and diet, playing the cards we have.
    Loved your grumpy chickadee, great captures, esp. its open mouth – lucky shot!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Eliza. 🙂 That chickadee was not at all happy about being shoved out of the nest. His flying skills were pretty bad. I worried that he’d hurt himself. He kept flying into the wall. I shouldn’t have worried. He got the hang of it eventually.

      So true about the things we can control.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. The baby bird made me smile. One of the weirdest things about ageing for me is the realisation that facts we were taught at school and still remember are no longer facts. I suspect there are many more than I know of. I hope it will not be long before society realises how mean it is about older people. How many adverts do we see of a wrinkled face and a smooth face as if beauty does not exist in older faces? Those adverts should be banned.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Susan. 🙂 This past year has brought so much un-learning of all I’d been taught. “Facts” are slippery things, it seems. I agree about the adverts. I saw one the other day for a face cream for “older” women and the model looked to be about 25 years old. How is that “older?” Why not show an 80-year-old woman? (Probably because she will have wrinkles and no face cream can help us avoid that.)

      Liked by 1 person

  4. As always, your post gave me so much to think about. I had the great misfortune of losing one of my dearest friends 16 years ago, when we were both relatively young. A terrible blow, and I grieved for many, many months. But it seems to me that’s how it should be. To be mourned is to be loved. And what is life without love?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. “To be mourned is to be loved.” Very well written/said, Laurie. I’m sorry about the loss of your friend. It’s so hard to lose anyone, but it seems like losing a good friend is one of the hardest losses.


      1. It was a terrible loss, and I still miss her so much. Although I am blessed to have some good friends, this particular friend was the kind of kindred spirit that only comes along a few times in a person’s life.


  5. I love to take a slow walk past your wonderful shots – the lemon fizz did just that for me – not to mention the teeny teen chickadee
    p.s. we have had nothing but rain and cool weather here in the UK for the whole of May

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Laura. 🙂 It looks as though a little of your rain and cool weather made its way round the world and arrived here yesterday. It’s been a lovely respite from the heat and dryness.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Will look forward to hearing more about the aging book, Robin. I also clicked on the link about lines in the mind, not in the world, and will take a look at that. AND just went for a walk this morning, the slowest walk ever, just one foot in front of the other on our road. Looking at some frost-struck plants, the tree leaves waving in the wind, the blooming lupines. Our culture doesn’t usually understand or support slowness, but there’s such a gift within it.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Robin, it surprises me to hear your area is in such need of rain. Here, we’ve had an overabundance, making me wonder why we can’t spread the wealth around. Everything around me is emerald green, and an approaching cold front makes me think more of autumn than of summer. Great photo of the baby birds and bunny!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Debbie. 🙂 Mother Nature must have something in mind with the overabundance in some areas and not enough in others, but I have no idea what that might be. It feels more like autumn here right now, and I’m enjoying the break from the heat.

      Liked by 1 person

Comments are delightful and always appreciated. I will respond when I can (life is keeping me busy!), and/or come around to visit you at your place soon. Thank you!

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