Remembering: Something in the autumn
Our Yorktown, Virginia neighborhood, November 2008
There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood —
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time. — Bliss Carman
Autumn reminds us of the brevity of life as the lush blossoms of summer fade and die away, replaced by the dazzling final act of foliage that will soon be gone. The coming onset of winter can be depressing, yet somehow fall retains a unique splendor that makes it the favorite season for many of us. That first snap of chill in the air after the summer heat breaks, followed by the excitement of the harvest holidays and winter merriment, help to take the sting out of the months of cold that will follow.
Update for 11-15-13, one year later:
Wow, I’ve sure gotten a lot chattier since I started this blog! I had forgotten how short I kept my comments. I’m thinking of borrowing the concept I saw on another blog – “Wordless Wednesdays” — and having a day for just a photo, no quote, no comments. What do you think? I love Carman’s poem — I say it to myself every fall, having learned it from the old Childcraft set I grew up reading — but really, does a photo such as the one above really need any words? To see the original post with comments from one year ago today, look here.
This post was first published eight years ago today, and re-blogged seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Remembering: Little advantages
London street scene, 2005
“Human felicity is produced not so much by great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen, as by little advantages that occur every day.” —Benjamin Franklin
Just as it’s often the minor irritations that distract us and wear us down, so too the power of small blessings can transform our lives. The trick is becoming aware of them. Sunny weather, fragrant blooms, a cup of hot tea on a chilly morning, the delicious smell of food when we’re hungry…what little advantages are brightening your day today?
Update for 11-14-13, one year later:
Those who read this blog frequently will recognize a common theme in this post. I do a lot of blogging about the small pleasures in life and the everyday things we tend to take for granted. I may seem slightly obsessive about it, but it would not be an exaggeration to say that I’ve often thought my sanity has been preserved by focusing on the small (or not-so-small) blessings that are present no matter how bad things get.
Many years ago, I heard a minister begin a sermon with a series of questions that he suggested we answer on paper, just for our own review. He didn’t tell us where he was headed with it. He asked things such as: what is a gadget you use every day? What is the first switch you turn on in the morning? Who is one of your favorite relatives? What school teacher do you remember most fondly? And so on. When he finished, he told us to look over our lists and ask ourselves whether we had ever thought to be thankful for those things. That sermon is one of the most memorable I have ever heard. It made me aware that my Walkman, my lamp, my Aunt Peggy and my fourth grade teacher, among countless other people, memories and things, made me a very rich person indeed.
I hope you will share some thoughts about your own “little advantages” with us today. We might discover more blessings to add to our own lists!
To see the original post with comments, look here.
This post was first published eight years ago today, and re-blogged seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Remembering: Promises to keep
Muir Woods, Marin County, CA 2003
And miles to go before I sleep…” — Robert Frost
It’s tempting to be drawn into our own ruminations. Trouble can be an isolating experience, and solitude is a seductive force, both healing and dangerous. If we withdraw too long or too often from others, we neglect our responsibility to ourselves as well as to them. Most of us really do have promises to keep and miles to go, no matter how exhausted or discouraged we become.
How can we find the balance between contemplative, wholesome solitude and the daily activities that maintain the connections to others that are so vital to our existence? How can we discern whether a suffering person needs our company, our words or our silence? What are some ways we can be open to the help that others can provide?
Update for 11-13-13, one year later:
Well, I see that I finally started writing some comments, though I’m still briefer and more restrained here than I became as I went along…maybe I should have kept things shorter! Also, I note that the past year has answered my closing questions for me, at least in some ways. Blogs, whether reading or writing them, can strike a nearly perfect balance between solitude and connection.
We normally sit at our computers alone, or at least focused more on cyberspace than on our immediate surroundings, yet we are connecting with others through words and photos. In starting this blog, I was unaware I was opening the door to help, hope and friendship from so many I didn’t know, and facilitating re-connections with friends I’ve known and loved for years. Compared to the quicker, more party-like climate on Facebook, blogs offer space for contemplative writing and discussion that goes beyond clever one-liners. In reading the blogs of others, I find much food for thought, identification with ideas and emotions I had held but never expressed myself, and sometimes just happy, light-hearted fun. Not to mention craft ideas, handy hints, humor and many heartwarming or breathtakingly beautiful photos and artwork.
Remembering: How the light gets in
The Statue of Liberty as seen from the Staten Island Ferry, 2007
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in. — Leonard Cohen
Update for 11-12-13: After 365 different posts, this one remains one of my very favorites. I have had that quote on my refrigerator for years. And the photo of Lady Liberty at sunset brings back happy memories of the Staten Island Ferry. I’m sure Edna St. Vincent Millay could identify, as her memories of that same ferry became one of my favorite poems when I was a young girl! To see the original post with comments, click here.
Have you ever struggled with a “perfect offering” that just didn’t turn out as well as you planned? Does it ever seem to you that pretty much everything in life is imperfect? Although the connection between the photo and the quote isn’t as obvious as with many of my photos on this blog, perhaps you will understand why this seemed to me the perfect illustration for an unsettling but paradoxically comforting thought.
This post was first published seven years ago today, and was itself a re-post from eight years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Remembering: If you can…
This is our older son, Drew, at Bodega Bay, CA, around 2002.
Lines from one of my favorite poems, If by Rudyard Kipling:
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools…
Update on 11-11-13:
I see that I still wasn’t adding any comments to speak of. I suppose Kipling’s words speak for themselves! But I also remember that I was petrified of publishing anything online for the world to see. To see the original post with comments, look here. I see more familiar gravatars on this one! Does anyone identify with some of the situations Kipling describes here? I know I do! But the older I get, the more I know what he meant when he called “Triumph” and “Disaster” both imposters. It’s just that they never seem so at the time…
This post was first published seven years ago today, and was itself a re-post of the second post I ever published on this blog, eight years ago today. That original post is linked above.
Also, the original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
The envelope, please
This post was first published seven years ago today, along with a re-posting of the very first message that ever appeared here. Those of you who remember that first anniversary may find yourself mentioned below! I was happy to see that several of you who won those first prizes are still with us today.
The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
OK, the results are in!
I had intended to video the entire drawing and post it here, but this is all I came up with:
Jeff and Matt had agreed to cooperate with helping me film the drawing, and since it’s a beautiful fall day here in York County, we thought it would be fun to film it outside in our back yard, where the bloom-again azaleas were in full celebration mode and our camellias were beginning to sneak out for a peep, too.
Jeff coached me to Be Sure My Camera Battery Is Charged (a frequent oversight of mine, but in this case it was, and I had backups too). I even checked the SD card to make sure it had plenty of space. Half empty; looked good to me. What I should have realized, but didn’t, is that videos eat up the megabytes VERY quickly. At least on a camera they do, and I don’t have a smart phone.
SO, when Jeff said “OK, that’s all!” just when we started to film, I couldn’t believe it. I was sure he must be reading it wrong. But no, the camera said “card full.” Since Jeff and Matt had other plans awaiting, and in any case have only so much patience with this computer nonsense, they wanted me to go with what I had. It then occurred to me that we have a S-L-O-W internet connection here in York County, so I reluctantly agreed to go on with the drawing OFF camera.
Which turned out to be a good thing, because even with a 37-second video, it took almost an hour to load, and longer than that for me to figure out how to get it posted correctly here, and it still looks a bit distorted to me, as if it didn’t download very well. During all that time, my computer was totally unavailable for anything else such as getting email, reading comments, etc., so I apologize if I kept anyone waiting!
I decided to go ahead and post the abbreviated video for comic value, since it cracked me up that Matt could NOT resist looking into the bin before he drew a name out, even though all the slips with names on them were folded over twice so he couldn’t possibly have seen whose he was picking. I am still wondering whether he has x-ray vision, because one of the second place winners is a definite favorite of his.
In any case, here are the winners, none of whom have asked to remain anonymous. If anyone listed here wants to change their minds on that, let me know and I’ll gladly edit you out! You still get the prizes.
Matt drew the names in reverse order, starting with the third prize winners:
Judy Walton
Pat Eastin
John Slingerland
And the second prize winners:
Carla Hutto
Ann Weldon
And the FIRST PRIZE WINNER is:
Jenelle Maloy!
Longtime readers with good memories may notice a coincidence here; in the only other time I awarded any prizes on this website, in an unannounced contest to send a $10 Amazon gift card to whoever could “find the mystery couple” in that day’s photo, Jenelle was the winner in that one too. Jenelle, if I ever announce a contest to give away a Jaguar or $10,000 here, I highly recommend you plan to show up for it!
OK, now for the Defeat Despair Community Activism Award:
For those who read the comments, it will come as no surprise that Sheila, Boomdeeadda, Eric, Michael, Amy Hill and Mary Ann were the six contestants (based on the statistics on the day the contest was announced, as described in that announcement). The WINNER is: BOOMDEADDA! I must say I am happy to have at least one international winner among the prizes I will send out.
Boomdee and Jenelle will need to let me know ASAP what kind of gift card they want (sorry, Boomdee, I could not find a gift card to Auntie’s Aqua Extravaganza Emporium).
Judy, Pat and John will need to let me know what kind of chocolate they like, or if they don’t like chocolate, let me arrange for psychotherapy to find out what is wrong with them tell me what kind of alternative treat they want. Carla, Ann, Sheila, Eric, Michael, Amy and Mary Ann will need to figure out how to use Amazon, or else figure out whom to give a $10 gift card to that won’t get insulted (maybe the mail carrier or paper delivery person?)
Everybody else, your party favors will be on the way to you within the week (I hope!) THANKS AGAIN for coming to my party! It was so much fun, and you wouldn’t believe how low the catering bill was.
Captured and preserved
Cherry blossoms carefully cultivated to bloom when needed most.
The Sackler Gallery, Washington DC, March 2013
“But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved…”
— John Tobias, from his lovely poem
The beautiful cherry blossoms pictured above were on display inside the Sackler Gallery weeks before the local trees were in bloom. I asked staff there “are they real?” and on being assured that they were, I asked where they had come from. Apparently they were cultivated in a greenhouse and arranged for display as a sort of complement to the profusely blooming trees that showed up much later than people had hoped for in 2013. Thus visitors to the Sackler did not have to leave DC without seeing a single cherry blossom!
As this blog nears its first anniversary, I am thinking of all the unexpected blessings I have received from my impulsive Saturday-morning decision to start it as a means of staying positive in the face of seemingly relentless bad news. I feel so fortunate to have enjoyed the online company of people I know and love in “real life” as well as those I have never met in person.
A side, benefit, though, is that I’ve documented here, in both posts and comments, many memories that are otherwise not recorded. Even if I ended this blog tomorrow (which I don’t plan to do) I would still have quite a voluminous compendium of photos, thoughts and ideas from me and from many others. Perhaps this is my own version of the pickled watermelon Tobias wrote about in his beautiful poem, which has long been a favorite of mine.
As a librarian, I’m an archivist at heart, and this tends to work against me in some ways, leaving my home cluttered with annoying piles of papers, cards and memorabilia that I never seem to get around to sorting. Despite the tendency to save far more than I should, I still believe there is something valuable in cultivating, capturing and preserving the happy and good and beautiful aspects of our lives. As with the cherry blossoms above, which provided a hint of beauty that cheered disappointed visitors who found the famed cherry trees still bare after they had traveled long distances to see them, our carefully preserved memories can brighten the days of waiting for anticipated blessings that often seem agonizingly long in arriving.
What can you do today, to capture and preserve something beautiful from your past or present as a gift to your future self and others? Maybe it’s something as simple as a shared memory in a personal note or card sent to a loved one far away. Maybe it’s taking (or revisiting) a photo of something fun or wonderful. Maybe it will be a journal entry, or an exquisitely crafted scrapbook page, or a blog entry. However you capture or preserve something beautiful, the time you spend will be worthwhile, as it carries a double blessing: cheering you today, and bringing reminders of hope, joy or love to yourself and others in the days and years to come.
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
The last thing you expect
Durant preferred carriages, but took another road and changed history.
Visitors enjoy a December evening at Colonial Williamsburg, 2004
“The last thing you expect or want in life is often the first thing to take you on your journey to life.” – Timothy Shriver
Not long before he died, John Lennon wrote a song that popularized (although it did not originate) a much-quoted truth: “Life is what happens to you while you’re making other plans.” I know I’m far from alone in being able to say unequivocally that in my youth I never imagined what the next forty years of my life would be like. I hope I also have lots of company in feeling no real doubts about where I’ve ended up.
I’m reminded of yet a third quote, from one of my favorite movies, Chariots of Fire. It’s the (mostly) true story of Eric Liddell, who refused to compete in the Olympic race that would require him to run on Sunday, a day he held sacred. In the film, despite pressure from friends, coaches and even the Prince of Wales, Liddell remains steadfast to his principles even when it means sacrificing the opportunity of a lifetime.
Near the end of the story Eric is in the stands watching the final of the 100 metres – the one he was supposed to run in. His friend asks: “Any regrets, Eric – that you’re not down there with them?” Eric nods and replies: “Regrets, yes – no doubts though!”
If you’ve seen the film, you know that Eric Liddell went on to run in a different event for which he had not trained, and he won the gold. He also set a new world record; an astounding feat, under the circumstances. But today he is most remembered for holding firm to his beliefs. The loss of one dream became the now-legendary fulfillment of another.
Sometimes we choose our calling, but often, our calling chooses us, and we may fight it, thinking we have better ideas. But some of the greatest achievements have come from people who started out with other plans. Matt has a page-a-day history calendar with an interesting tale each day, usually about lesser-known aspects of famous people, places or events. I was fascinated to read just recently that General Motors was begun by a man who didn’t like cars. William Durant was a high-school dropout who found success manufacturing horse-drawn carriages, but it was his applications of lessons learned there to a different pursuit that would change history.
It’s a familiar pattern. Babe Ruth was a record-setting pitcher long before he left full time pitching at the age of 22 and became the legendary home run king. Walt Disney was fired from the Kansas City Star newspaper for not being creative enough. Fred Rogers was an ordained minister who went into television programming because he didn’t like television, and decided to try making a difference there.
It’s a good thing to have plans, hopes and dreams. It’s also a good thing to be open to the possibility that your destiny may be something you never wanted or expected…and it may take you to a future that’s beyond anything you can now imagine. I wish you few regrets in life, but whether or not there are regrets, I pray you will one day look back and feel no doubts that you did what you were called to do.
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Autumn asks
These Blue Ridge Parkway trees are beautiful even after losing their leaves. November 2011
“Autumn asks that we prepare for the future —that we be wise in the ways of garnering and keeping. But it also asks that we learn to let go—to acknowledge the beauty of sparseness.” — Bonaro W. Overstreet
Maybe autumn has such widespread appeal because it embodies the continual dilemma facing all of us, almost on a daily basis: when to start, when to finish; when to continue, when to quit; when to keep and when to throw away. At least as far back as Ecclesiastes, people were acknowledging that the wisdom of letting go is every bit as vital as the wisdom of holding on. The trick is knowing when to do what.
Although New Year’s Day is a popular time to take stock of our lives, and springtime is traditionally associated with “spring cleaning,” we might find that the fall is a perfect time to clear away the clutter — mentally and physically — in preparation for the festive season to come. As we enjoy the dazzling beauty of the leaves, and then sweep them up or mulch them into compost, let’s observe the uniquely calming beauty of the sparse landscape, and ask ourselves how best to prepare for the future. Chances are, it will involve some storing away for the winter, just as the squirrels are stockpiling acorns. But for many of us (and I would suspect most of us) it may involve letting go of even more than we keep.
OK, so I’m the world’s worst at letting go. But I’m working on it. Today, please join me in appreciating the increasingly rare beauty of sparseness. It’s the perfect season to do it!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
I am glad
Jeff at Pompeii, a nice place to visit– but I wouldn’t want to have lived there! May, 2008
“Let others praise ancient times; I am glad I was born in these.” – Ovid
There’s a lot to think about in this brief quote. For one thing, isn’t it amusing to realize that Ovid lived in comparatively modern times, at least as he saw it? Terms such as “ancient” and “modern” are relative, aren’t they?
But even though Ovid lived thousands of years ago, I think he was right to be grateful for being born when he was. Can’t most of us say the same? I have no wish to be younger; I have fond memories of growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, and though I find many exciting changes on the horizon for the generations to come, I also regret the loss of much that I took for granted most of my life, and worry about all the usual things older generations fret over.
When I was a child, I had romantic notions about past centuries, and I still sometimes fall into that way of thinking. But I know better than to believe the fantasies that go along with romanticizing the past. I know that the attractive but elaborate clothing would not have been nearly as easy to live in as the comfortable attire we wear now. I know that horse-drawn carriages mean lots of smelly excrement in the roads (just visit Colonial Williamsburg sometime if you don’t believe me). I like smoke-free public buildings and antibiotics for deadly infections and clean water for drinking and bathing, anytime I want it, at whatever temperature I choose.
I probably will always find the past fascinating and instructive. Most likely, I will always love historical fiction that takes me on imaginary adventures in different places and eras. And I find it hard to accept the argument that students need not learn history to have a complete education.
In spite of all that, though, I am glad to live in these times. Aren’t you?
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Made better
Drew naps on Matt’s bed with Pasha and other cuddly critters, December 2006
“No day is so bad that it can’t be made better with a nap.” — Carrie Snow
It always amazed me how Jeff would never, ever want to nap. While he was taking his first course of chemotherapy this past winter, he took more naps in a few weeks than he had taken in the rest of his adult life put together. But I love napping. Before our children were born, snoozing for an hour or two (or even three) on Sunday afternoons was one of my favorite pastimes.
I rarely ever have time for a nap anymore, but the older I get, the more I think I might take up the practice again. I’ve read several studies that indicate napping is good for us, as long as we don’t overdo it. And I certainly find the idea appealing. Apparently, if I do decide to start indulging in the occasional nap, I’ll be in good company. The internet is full of articles about famous, accomplished people who took regular naps.*
Napping on Monday might be especially appealing, but any day you are having a bad day, maybe a nap would help. Do you ever indulge in a quick afternoon doze? If so, do you awaken feeling refreshed, or groggy? Any words of wisdom about catching winks? Share your siesta secrets with us!
_______________
*one really interesting bit of information provided by Jackie Kennedy in the recently released tapes of her interviews with Schlesinger was that JFK would always change into his pajamas for a nap, even if he would only be sleeping for 45 minutes. I find that very endearing. Makes me wonder if he had a teddy bear.
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Time for finding
Sometimes the journey to what we seek appears to have no end.
Inside Currituck Lighthouse, Corolla, North Carolina, September, 2013.
“When we are trapped in seeking, nothing is enough. Everything we have mocks us; we see only what is missing, and all that is already here seems pale and unsatisfying. In Sabbath time we bless what is there for being. The time for seeking is over; the time for finding has begun.” — Wayne Muller
I’ve always thought of myself as a seeker, and I think seeking after what is good, true, and beautiful is a noble thing. So when I read this quote, I had to give it some real thought. It had never occurred to me that seeking might be a different task than finding, which I had always imagined as something that “happened” when you looked hard enough, or in the right place.
But the final sentence of this quote resonated with me. For the past year, I have been continually seeking information, scouring Medline and other databases for advice, research abstracts, case history precedents, or any other source that might help me help Jeff to get well. There’s nothing wrong with that, to a point, but Jeff himself has put some fairly firm boundaries on my tendency to get obsessive about it. I have come to see the wisdom in that.
Likewise, for the past 28 years, I have been seeking one way or another to help Matt survive, heal, and flourish in the midst of the constellation of disabilities that go with his extremely rare genetic disorder. While I often feel as if we’ve met with failure after failure, perhaps part of the problem has been my inability to understand that we must do more than seek in order to find; that we must be open to discovering what we didn’t realize we were looking for.
Several years ago, the world-renowned expert in autism, Dr. Gary Mesibov of UNC-Chapel Hill’s TEACCH program, along with his clinical team, conducted a two-day vocational assessment of Matt, evaluating his strengths and weaknesses in preparation for the transition from high school to community working and living. While they did prepare an impressively detailed and accurate written portrait of Matt’s significant skills and challenges, the meeting that followed the evaluation was an unexpected gift. After years of IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meetings at schools all over the USA, I had heard repeatedly about what Matt could NOT do, and about what we should NOT expect of his education and life opportunities. I expected a similar summary from the TEACCH staff.
Instead, Dr. Mesibov congratulated us; something I’ve rarely heard from educators. “I love kids who have autism,” he said, and you could tell he meant it. “They are my life’s work. But ‘pleasant’ is not a word I typically use to describe them. Your son is a star!”
After I recovered from the surprise, I mumbled something about wishing Dr. M could be at the next IEP meeting with us, or could convince some of the vocational training providers who seemed far more dubious about Matt’s potential. Dr. Mesibov gently suggested that we simply enjoy the person Matt had already become. While he understood and supported our goals to help Matt improve his skills and succeed in the community, he also said, “The time has come for you to enjoy the fruit of the hard work you have been doing for more than twenty years.”
That’s easier said than done, of course. Life since then has been anything but easy, filled with disappointments, tears and fears. Yet I am finally beginning to understand that Dr. Mesibov was telling us that the time had come for finding.
At this point, with Jeff and Matt each having three surgeries behind them in the past year, and more scheduled in the near future, as well as a very uncertain long term prognosis, I am learning to cherish every single day. I’ll always be a seeker; that’s just who I am. But I am learning to be a finder, as well.
Some of us who are Christians set Sunday aside for practices often referred to as “observing the Sabbath.” Many people of other faiths, as well as those who observe no particular faith, also set aside one day each week to rest from all our striving. On this day, we pause and reflect on our lives, seeking (and hopefully finding) connection with what matters most. We worship, give thanks, or simply bask in the blessings that often go unnoticed in the hectic pace of life. I wish for you a day of refreshment each week, a time for blessing what IS, rather than focusing on what is missing. May we all learn to find, as well as to seek!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Don’t pass it by
Jeff mowing our back yard on November 3, 2006, York County, Virginia
“There it is round you. Don’t pass it by—the immediate, the real, the only, the yours.”
— Henry James
Until this year, this would be a typical sight for a Saturday in November; Jeff mowing the grass for perhaps the last time until spring. I took this photo seven years ago, but even if I had taken it more recently, I could not have known at the time how much I would miss this seemingly ordinary sight, and how glad I am that I captured it in at least one photo.
I continue to hope, pray and believe that next year Jeff will be mowing that grass again (until cancer forced him to stop yard work, he had steadfastly refused to hire a lawn service, and he hopes to return to mowing one day). Till then, I am looking around me with new appreciation for the daily gifts and treasures that sometimes hide beneath the mantle of their familiarity.
Right now, today, these gifts are all around you, too. The everyday will one day be exceptional. Don’t pass it by!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Exciting today
With this view, you can’t go wrong! Shall we begin with TEA? Virginia Beach, September 2013
“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”
“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”
“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully. “It’s the same thing,” he said.” ― A.A. Milne
I love, love, love breakfast, even though I seldom eat it except on Saturdays. But sometimes I eat breakfast for dinner, at Cracker Barrel or IHOP or Denny’s or even at home. I’ve also learned to indulge in breakfast when Jeff or Matt is in the hospital, and the rising comes early (with medical rounds seemingly at sun up and uncomfortable chair-beds that make it impossible to sleep well anyway). Hospital cafeterias do breakfast well, or at least cheaply, and in the hospital, I know that may be the only real meal I get that day.
But my hands-down favorite place for breakfast is the tiny but very popular Belvedere Coffee Shop in Virginia Beach, a place Jeff discovered a few years ago on Trip Advisor, when he wanted to plan a fun weekend for us. If you go there, be sure to ask for the “honeymoon table” in the corner, with a single seat for two, facing outwards. No matter what you order for breakfast, it will go PERFECTLY with the view you will enjoy there.
Are you a breakfast person? What are your favorites? You have my permission to indulge, today or sometime soon!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Merry October!
UPDATE – scroll down for photos of Halloween fun in our Alexandria neighborhood!
I scanned this very old photograph of a long-ago jack-o-lantern I carved for the boys.
“October, tuck tiny candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins…. Merry October!” — Rainbow Rowell
I can’t remember what year it was when I carved the jack-o-lantern pictured above, but it’s probably representative of what they all looked like before my kids were grown and I quit decorating for Halloween. My skill with a knife never matched my father’s, but the design is copied from my memories of the deliciously fiery grins on the ones he carved for his own children for so many years.
For you and your family or neighborhood children, I wish a safe and Merry Halloween!
And treat yourself to some laughs – thanks to Eric for sharing this hilarious video:
Here are some shots of the Halloween fun in our neighborhood:
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Something haunting
The Harvest Moon shines on Dam Neck, Virginia, September 2013
“There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery.” — Joseph Conrad
The children out trick-or-treating for Halloween this year won’t enjoy the light of a full moon, but perhaps it will shine in their imaginations. Of all the seasons, autumn is most closely associated with the full moon. Maybe it’s because of the beauty of the Harvest Moon, or maybe it just seems a perfect backdrop for all the spooky tales we hear at this season. Whatever the reasons, I hope you had time to enjoy the Harvest Moon in September, or the Hunter’s Moon of October 18; if not, there will be another full moon on November 17. May the haunting beauty of moonlight enhance at least one evening for you this fall!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
A graveyard can teach you
A centuries-old graveyard in Oxford, not far from Headington Quarry. December, 2005
“Spending time in a graveyard can teach you a lot about living. When I stopped at each grave I swear I could almost hear the silent stories of perfect strangers. Their tombs like silent philosophies of all the ways a life can be lived.” — Simone Nacerima
Graveyards are a common motif at this time of year, supposedly spine-tingling places of dread. In reality, though, I’ve never found graveyards the least bit frightening, even back in 1975 when I was blindfolded and driven out to a rural cemetery during a sorority initiation that fell on Halloween. I was left sitting alone on a tombstone in the dark, and I didn’t even peek to see where I was. I remember wondering about the name on the tombstone, whose grave I might be disrespecting (through no choice of my own), silently apologizing to this person’s soul, and wondering what kind of life he or she may have led.
One December evening in 2005, I was alone in another small, unlit graveyard adjacent to an old country church in Headington Quarry, England. I was searching for the grave of C. S. Lewis, and I felt a panic that increased as the darkness closed in quickly. My primary fear was that I would have to leave, disappointed, never having spotted the earthly resting place of my favorite author. I also felt afraid that I might not be able find my way back in the dark, across fields and through neighborhoods, to the bus stop where I started — at least, not in time to catch the last bus to Oxford where I was to meet my son at Christchurch for vespers.
Though it was so dark I could scarcely read the Lewis marker when I did find it, the graveyard itself was not spooky at all to me. As with all cemeteries, it seemed filled with stories I wish I had time to learn. I left with some regret, and though I did make it back to the bus stop just in time, the images of my twilight pilgrimage to Holy Trinity church have stayed with me, one of those otherworldly experiences that never fade from the imagination.
I hope the cartoon-like portrayals of graveyards that are so abundant at this time of year do not close our eyes to the lessons such places have to teach us. May their silent stories bless you with wisdom, contentment and resolve!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Costumes tell a story
EN GARDE! Halloween in Hawaii with Indiana Jones and Zorro, 1993
“Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story.” — Mason Cooley
I mentioned a couple of days ago that my siblings and I much preferred making our own Halloween costumes over buying them in a store. Perhaps it’s because the store-bought costumes in those days were cheesy little plastic masks coupled with cheap apron-like printed garments worn loosely over regular clothes. I look with amazement and perhaps a twinge of envy at the elaborate quality of embellished princess gowns and pirate gear available for purchase seemingly everywhere nowadays.
But pulling together our own costumes was very much a part of the excitement of the holiday. Our parents allowed us the fun and rare privilege of plundering their closets, accessories, props and Mom’s makeup to use as we saw fit. Then the ritual of photographs, followed by heading outdoors when there was just enough light to see and compare our friends’ creations, usually as unique as our own.
One year a friend (with the help of her parents) became an amazingly realistic mummy, covered in gauze made from her brother’s old cloth diapers, taped all over her body and head (except for eye holes and a small mouth hole for breathing). That might have been the best costume I can remember seeing. Creating original Halloween costumes is one of the best ways to “go green” by recycling materials already on hand, at home or at thrift shops.
We followed the tradition of home-created costumes with our sons, and they do indeed tell a story that brings back happy memories of their interests and preferences at various ages. Their costumes call to mind the tales they enjoyed that prompted their choices, as well as the stories I remember of that particular year. As Halloween approaches, I hope you will enjoy seeing, and maybe creating, the many costumes that fill this season with memorable scenes.
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Of courtesy
Strolling past Poseidon on the boardwalk, Virginia Beach, September 2013.
Of Courtesy, it is much less
Than Courage of Heart or Holiness,
Yet in my Walks it seems to me
That the Grace of God is in Courtesy.
– Hilaire Beloc
On a beautiful September day not long ago, Jeff and I enjoyed a few hours on the boardwalk at Virginia Beach. As we strolled along I noticed an elderly man ahead of us, taking in the sunshine and cooling breeze with the help of his attendant, who walked beside him with patience and kindness. I was happy to see this gentleman able to be out and about on such a beautiful day.
Bikes whizzed past and children played, but all were mindful of each other, sharing the space with the sort of collective joy made manifest in such agreeable surroundings. It was not unlike the neighborly accord I experience on my daily walks.
It’s easy to get caught up in the notion that great and courageous deeds are needed to make the world a better place, and of course they are. But they are perhaps less pervasive — and maybe even less needed — than simple, common courtesy. How often has your day been made more happy (or less) by the cordial (or rude) behavior of a stranger? Don’t you love it when people you’ve never seen smile and greet you? Courtesy may not be the flashiest or most obvious way to demonstrate our understanding of grace, but it carries the potential to change the world, one person at a time.
I wish you a day filled with courtesy, flowing in grace, to you and from you!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
A child in every one
Halloween 1986, the first of many that Matt and Drew enjoyed together.
Backward, turn backward,
O Time, in your flight
make me a child again
just for to-night!
~ Elizabeth Akers Allen
There is a child in every one of us who is still a trick-or-treater looking for a brightly-lit front porch.— Robert Brault
Perhaps no holiday brings back more childhood memories than Halloween. The festivities of November and December belong to people of all ages, but Halloween seems created for those who are still young enough to be excited about candy, uninhibited about parading around in costumes, and energetic enough to visit door after door in quest of just one more treat.
If you’re my age or older, you probably remember a time when candy was a relatively rare privilege, which made the prospect of Halloween goodies all the more magical. That exciting trip to get the pumpkin(s) for carving, the fun of spending time with adults who participated in the merriment by creating jack-o-lanterns and other faintly frightful decorations, and the enjoyment of themed activities at school (perhaps with a reading of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow) all combined to build the suspense until October 31.
The crisp autumn air was a perfect setting for the anticipation of choosing “what to be this year” and then creating a costume to wear on the big night. (Store bought costumes were scorned by us, as they may have been by many of you.) What could surpass the sheer delight of dressing up as darkness fell, then seeing creativity on parade in the costumes of friends as we ran from house to house, sometimes greeted by enthusiastic parents dressed in costumes of their own for handing out treats. The fiery grin of a jack-o-lantern would welcome us at almost every door.
On returning home to dump the contents of our bags or pillowcases onto the floor, sorting and trading and eating until past bedtime, we would critique the evening. Whose costumes were best? Most creative? Scariest? Who carved the best pumpkin? Then when bedtime finally came, the regret of knowing one more Halloween had passed was tempered by the candy stash, which would last for weeks, and the knowledge that the grandest festivities were yet to come in the holidays just ahead.
Do these memories sound familiar to you, or are yours different? Did you celebrate Halloween, and if so, how? I hope this season you will remember and share some of your best Halloween memories. Feel free to tell us about them here!
This post was first published seven years ago today. As always, when I schedule these posts for re-publication, I go back and read through them. I’ve forgotten so much of what I wrote, so it’s often a process of rediscovery. If I have time, I also read the old comments, and there I find more happy than sad memories. In this particular post, I especially enjoyed the comments of my extended family members as we reminisced about Halloweens in our past. I still miss Daddy so much, but in his comments, he lives on and speaks to me again.
The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Stimulating loneliness
Sunset on the ocean at Captiva Island, Florida, January 2013
“The loneliness you get by the sea is personal and alive. It doesn’t subdue you and make you feel abject. It’s stimulating loneliness.” — Anne Morrow Lindbergh
I connected immediately with Lindbergh’s words in the quote. I’m seldom if ever at the sea all alone, but it always wraps me in a calming sense of solitude. Maybe it’s the immensity of it, underscoring my relatively insignificant presence. Or maybe it’s the sights, sounds, scents and sensations; the rare setting that taps into all five of our senses, leaving the faint taste of salt in our mouths.
In any case, as Lindbergh describes, the loneliness I feel by the sea is never an unpleasant experience. In my case, I think it may be the paradox inherent in feeling, through such rich isolation, the presence of deity. It’s as if I am experiencing the omnipresence of God in a highly personal yet universal way. I realize that may sound like so much new-age doubletalk, but if you’ve ever had the sensation yourself, you will know what I mean.
In any case, I wish for you today the stimulating loneliness of the sea (so like that of the sky), if only in memory or imagination. As we share the common experience of sanctified solitude, we are brought together in the unending mystery of being part of a vast sea of global humanity, each of us remaining unique, and uniquely loved by God.
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
History that teaches
Jeff stands in front of the reconstructed McLean House, where Lee surrendered to Grant.
Appomattox Court House, Virginia, July 2005
“The march of Providence is so slow and our desires so impatient; the work of progress so immense and our means of aiding it so feeble; the life of humanity is so long, that of the individual so brief, that we often see only the ebb of the advancing wave and are thus discouraged. It is history that teaches us to hope.” — Robert E. Lee
Perhaps no decision in history has been more analyzed and second-guessed than Lee’s decision to refuse command of the Union army in favor of leading the troops of the Confederacy. His decision is all the more noteworthy as it was made, not only in the face of conflicting loyalties within his state and his own family, but also with a greater realization than many of his contemporaries of how long and bloody the war was likely to be. It’s impossible to imagine the grief, disappointment and despair that Lee must have endured in the years that followed, witnessing the horrific suffering and loss of so many lives, culminating in acknowledged defeat with his surrender at Appomattox Court House, Virginia.
How, then, to explain his statement quoted above, which was penned years after the war ended? It would be easier to understand if Lee had indulged in bitter predictions of doom, or cynical observations about the human limitations he so eloquently describes. Yet he chose to focus on the larger picture, and to believe in an ultimately favorable outcome for much that was yet unresolved.
With these words, Lee reminds us that no matter how powerful (or not) an individual might be, all of us are part of something far more immense than our immediate circumstances suggest. While some might argue that history teaches us to be pessimistic, I like Lee’s assertion that the trajectory of human existence moves primarily in a forward direction, despite the many setbacks that seem to get more press in the archives of history.
Whether you’re a history buff or not, I hope you will find time to reflect on the blessings available to us every day that would have been ardently appreciated by past generations. We don’t have to look very far to see much reason for hope in history.
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
All gates
This must be the most purely symbolic gate I’ve ever seen. Captiva, Florida, January 2013
“The world is all gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
One of the best ways to defeat despair is to see the opportunity that lies in almost every situation. When I am able to view a difficult time as a gateway to something new, I am better able to tolerate the sadness, grief or frustration that can too easily take over my thoughts.
I love the idea of “strings of tension waiting to be struck.” It made me ponder how stringed instruments can only make beautiful music if the strings are tense. It’s the action of contacting the tension that creates the sound. Too much tension, of course, will snap the strings and damage the instrument. But it takes just the right amount to enable the instrument to do what it was designed to do.
Perhaps there’s a symbolic lesson for us here. While we all love the times of relaxation, we usually need a bit of tension or urgency to kick us into a productive, energetic mode. Next time your day is fraught with tension and frustration, think of the beautiful music that can be produced when strings are tensed. Think of the gates that are open to you, inviting you to walk forward into new opportunities.
Today, I wish you eyes that are opened to the gates in your world, and the opportunities to make beautiful music with your tension.
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
Any tea
Too bad Kipling didn’t have a nearby tea shop like this one in Bar Harbor, Maine, June 2012.
We had a kettle; we let it leak:
Our not repairing made it worse.
We haven’t had any tea for a week…
The bottom is out of the Universe.
— Rudyard Kipling
…and speaking of reasons I love to be in England, I think the top three would be tea, tea and tea. Of course, one can get delicious tea pretty much anywhere, but my love of tea is most connected to Great Britain. I was just beginning to have a real taste for it in May 2001, when I had tea at the home of my longtime British pen pal in Essex. We had been out touring on a cold drizzly day, and our coming in to sit by her fire and drink tea is one of my happiest memories. I’ve forgotten how many cups I drank (some with cream and sugar, and some without) but I think I was hooked from that point on.
And “hooked” is not too strong a word for it. I can hardly get through a day without tea, much less a week, so Kipling’s verse made me smile. I know coffee drinkers who feel the same way about their morning cup, and while I don’t share the same enthusiasm for coffee, it’s beginning to grow on me. But I doubt that it will ever replace tea in my affections.
What simple pleasure does Kipling’s verse remind you of? What seemingly trivial loss would cause you to declare “the bottom is out of the Universe?” It’s easy to take the commonplace for granted, until we are without it. Today, let’s remind each other of all the small blessings woven so tightly into our days that losing them would make us feel everything was unraveling!
This post was first published seven years ago today. The original post, comments and photo are linked, along with two other related posts, below. These links to related posts, and their thumbnail photos, do not appear in the blog feed; they are only visible when viewing the individual posts by clicking on each one. I have no idea why, nor do I know how they choose the related posts. That’s just the way WordPress does things.
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A fork in the road
Julia ♦ November 9, 2020 ♦ 6 Comments
Outside the tunnel, a fork in the road, with good views either way.
Driving the Amalfi Coast, Italy, May 2008
“When you come to a fork in the road, take it!” — Yogi Berra
This post was first published seven years ago today, and it is a special post because it was my 365th consecutive daily post, marking my one year anniversary of the blog. In the post linked within the comments below (originally titled “You’re Invited!” and later updated to “Thank You!”) I invited readers to celebrate that first anniversary by leaving comments telling me about themselves, which would them into a prize drawing. The actual drawing, captured in a subsequent post that will be re-blogged tomorrow, took place after all the comments came in.
Including the comments from this post and the You’re Invited/Thank You post linked below, there are nearly 250 comments including my answers. Reading through those original comments was a real trip down memory lane. Sadly, many who commented are no longer present in my life, due to death, estrangement or simply drifting away to other things. But some of you are still with me, and will remember this. If you are in that number, I’d especially love to hear from you in today’s comments! What a long, strange trip it’s been, full of fun and sadness, woe and wonder.
So here we all are, the 365th daily post of the most eventful and difficult year Jeff and I have ever endured. It’s time to celebrate survival, coping, and all the blessings woven into the pain and sorrow of the past year. Thanks for being among the blessings!
While the future is still very uncertain for us, it feels considerably more promising than it did a year ago. I started this blog before Jeff’s second cancer diagnosis and full extent of the metastasis was known, but before the end of November 2012, it felt as if our world had come crashing in. Now the shock has worn off, Jeff has survived more than we would have wanted to know 2013 held in store, and we both feel more hopeful that the months ahead will bring us continuing improvements in our long-term outlook.
Matt, too, has had a rough year, with three hospitalizations in the past 13 months, and the stress of dealing with Jeff’s diagnosis and all the ways it has disrupted our “normal” lives. Matt faces his 5th open heart surgery early in 2014, and we still have not found a job or training program that’s a good fit for him. While we prepare emotionally for what will definitely be a difficult year, we continue to hope and pray for happy endings to all these unresolved situations.
With all that lies in store, I’ve given a lot of thought to what I should do with this blog now that I’ve finished a year of daily posts. From a purely logistical standpoint, it’s difficult and time-consuming to come up with new posts every day, and while I have thoroughly enjoyed and needed the distraction, the coming months are likely to be very busy ones as we anticipate at least two more surgeries for Jeff and one for Matt. I’m so far behind on many of my responsibilities and interests that I wonder whether I can continue at the same pace.
But I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed hearing from each and every person who has left comments or “likes” at this blog. I’ve discovered so many wonderful people here. I’ve been introduced to the blogosphere, a world where I’ve found support, creativity and encouragement beyond what I had ever imagined. So I’m not going to make any quick decisions.
And here is where you can help me out. Because I have shamelessly bribed everyone into leaving comments today, here’s your chance to tell me what you think I should do. While I’m sure to get differing viewpoints, I will consider every suggestion even if I don’t ultimately take the advice.
For the next week, I have scheduled a daily re-post from the first week of entries from one year ago, as the relatively few of you who were with me that far back are unlikely to remember them. Hopefully those who have been here for only a few days, weeks or months will enjoy seeing them for the first time.
Since I find it hard to keep my mouth shut or my keyboard still, I’ve added a few comments to each re-post, and I will enjoy responding to your comments each day as well. I would miss you too much if I didn’t hear from you, and I want your input as I consider how often I should plan to blog in the future. I’ll also plan to spend that week getting the prizes and party favors on their way via the U. S. mail! So for me, the birthday celebration will stretch out into a week-long event. Maybe longer, depending on how many party favors I have to send out!
After that, I’m not sure. I do know I want to change things up a bit, to give myself freedom to include a wider variety of photos, videos and content. I’d like to introduce some of the people I’ve met online, and to share some of the inspiring, fun and helpful things I’ve enjoyed via blogs, Pinterest and other social media. I can’t stand to leave the vast riches of the internet totally untapped. So I plan to occasionally re-blog or feature others’ work, assuming I can secure permission. Some days I may feature just a photo or quote, or something funny or inspiring, and some days I will post according to the usual format I’ve already used 365 times.
What do you think? What topics, photos, quotes, or other fun stuff do you enjoy most? What would you most like to see here in the coming year? Would you prefer that I post only 3-4 times weekly, once weekly (or even less), or would you prefer a daily post, even if it was just a brief quote and photo that didn’t necessarily include commentary or even go together? What about book or movie reviews, craft ideas, handy hints (a.k.a life hacks) or other less abstract content? There’s plenty to talk about, that’s for sure!
If you prefer your comments to be anonymous, let me know and I’ll honor that request; just let me know what (if anything) you are willing to have appear online. Because I moderate all comments, and know many who are too shy to comment in a public forum such as this, I am willing and able to keep an entire comment private if you prefer. You can still enter the contest even if you don’t want your comment posted.
Remember, everyone who posts a comment today will be entered into the drawing for prizes described in “You’re Invited!” (click on the link above – and be sure to read over it if you don’t remember the rules). If you don’t really have any opinions to share with me about where this blog should go, just tell us a bit about yourself: what country or state you live in, how you found us, interesting stuff about your human or animal friends and family, links to any online sites or blogs you may want us to visit, or really anything else you’d like to share. As ever, the only requirement is that your comments should be encouraging or at least neutral; this blog is, and will remain, a safe and hate-free zone.
Thanks again and again, to everyone here, for helping us weather a very difficult and eventful year. Whatever lies ahead, you can be sure we do plan to take that fork in the road!