And where has time gone? A whole week without coming here is like an
entire week sleeping. Or being without food, or water. And all those dear people we looked forward
to seeing and spend time with them, and all those things we planned to do and
all that food I wanted to try and make, and all the places we wanted to visit—everything,
is in the past now. Time. Like a petal
in the wind, flows softly, and yet it disappears so quickly. Every life is but a minute in time, but each so
important. And the garden—the garden is a myriad of leaves, and petals immutable in the rhythms of time.
Everything speaks of decay and death, yet there's so much beauty in it, so much life in all death, and I find my spirit soaring above all... in faith and hope and all good things.
I sit outside under the chilly morning, and wait for the Mourning doves to come...
...and they do! They'd always come and ignite the magic...
We got a new Christmas tree today and now, hundreds of
miniscule lights light up our front windows and embellish our living room,
filling it with magic and dainty delicate light… I love it so much!
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