I hope this inspires you to LISTEN to YOUR body: 54, post surgery, post radiation, in ADT (abs zero testosterone, whole body muscle aches, flabby…), getting hot in Pa today… and my brain is screaming MOVE!! Walk, yoga, QM. Hat tips to Adam McClellan for inviting me to my first class, Travis Tetting for giving me this shirt, Stany Foucher for sooo much training… It’s dangerous to go alone. Find your people. I’m lucky.
Also, FUCK CANCER.
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This little guy was just off to the side as I was perambulating lost in thought (and probably talking to myself.) When I noticed them, I snapped this photo (with some telephoto so as not to completely terrify them.)
And then I was thinking: What must their perspective be?!
They were probably just about to cross that big, barren roadway of the gods (the cinder trail I was on)—that roadway that is different from everything else, and goes so unimaginably far in either direction that no turtle knows the start or end of it. And **yikes** here comes one of the towering, impossibly thin—how does it not immediately fall over?!—gods, making those sonorous, booming, incomprehensible noises… “oh, shit! It’s seen me…” **freezes**
My brain is like the Secret Life of Walter Mitty, except I’m imagining the inner world of everyone and every intelligence I encounter.
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This is a massive wood crib for stacking and drying firewood.
I have two smaller versions of this at my house where I stack up green, split firewood. A friend of mine wanted one as well. This was such a fun project. I started with a pen and paper sketching what I’d built nearly 20 years ago. Then discussions about the size he wanted. I came up with the buy-list and break-down list, and took all my notes on a long car ride. The next day we headed into town and loaded up on lumber. We carried the materials to the spot, and as we considered the exact layout, he asked, “What if we just made one big crib?” Well, I agreed that was an even better idea.
The best part: Midway I said, “I love this project! I’m not doing anything except helping.”
“That’s funny,” he replied, “all I’m doing is helping you!”
Much later it struck me: That might just be the best definition of a good day’s honest labor.
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These blooms (and the greenery) were snipped by Tracy to create an entry for the American Peony Society’s annual convention. It’s WAY more complicated than I made it sound. Her hobby is hybridizing Peonies, and that means there are more than 100 tree- and herbaceous Peonies around our house. o_O
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I remember when I started journaling. It began as a way to capture memories from trips—classic trip journaling. And then I started trying to bootstrap personal changes… which requires review… which requires something to review… which requires getting in the habit of…
The other day I was starting a new journal. It’s a process of unwrapping, labeling, and making my own pen-holder for the side…
But my favorite part is copying my personal oath into the front. Every one of these volumes feels like a reminder that every day can be a fresh start.
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Sometimes I see a moment that’s worth capturing.
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Sometimes I spot a pollinator in a place where I can get close. Despite it being a chilly day, this guy was very active.
Closer…
Closer…
—crap, I think that’s a Yellow Jacket? (Which are mean and aggressive this time of year when good food gets scarce.) Too close. Too close!
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Astute observers notice that I take a lot of photos of not-people. There’s a lot of blog-post selection bias: I don’t generally post photos of people here because I think it’s simply a kind thing to not do that. Besides, what’s wrong with pretty pictures of not-people?
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Snapped during a slow meander through Longwood Gardens on our way to lunch.
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I was hustling from point A to point B when I rounded the corner and saw this.
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