With the sound of waves crashing in the distance – a swell that’s bringing 40 – 50 foot surf to our island – there’s no escaping the reminder of water.
Here, it’s liquid and soupy. Full of forceful currents and foaming with air.
In Sequoia National Park last month, water took the form of crystals. Rock-hard and holographic, snow that’s long-since melted now (still rain dancing for you, California!).
We enjoy the harvest of the Surinam Cherry bush, just coming on with deep red fruit.
Of course, the Bohemian, he’s saving seeds, as usual.
Sometimes I wonder where each step is leading.
The breaths, the moments, the days. Where are they taking me?
And am following this path most truly?
Can we ever really know where we are heading? And even if we could, would we understand once we had ‘gotten there’?
Art. Parenthood. Love and friendship. This life.
I sense it’s more a process. A walk without a tour guide.
No GPS, just an inner compass. And once in a while, we may get some stepping-stones along the way.
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