My friend called this morning from her new perch on the East Coast. I was sipping coffee and watching Sunday morning rustle through maple leaves in my yard. "The things I need are space and time," I heard her say. It seems there is never enough of either, and yet we are surrounded by them. It is the ultimate paradox of a human life...
Sunday morning I sat on the threshold, in the doorway from my home to the garden, drinking coffee and missing her...
All of the things are blooming. Have you noticed? June is here. The Cecil Brunner rosebush is magnificent this year--an explosion of flowers so heavy that its top has fallen away from the white wall of the little city cottage where Lucia is made, and is spilling toward the alleyway. There is a lesson here for me, in expectation and fruition...
Daily Notes, From the Editor. Amanda married Joe on Saturday. My sweetheart came with me to the wedding, which was billed as a "spring party" so many guests arrived not knowing they were about to become witnesses, accomplices, protectors, defenders and partners in celebration of the bond we humans seek to forge with our chosen one by exchanging nuptial promises and sealing them with a kiss.
Daily Notes, From the Editor (440 words). Come as you are. You with the messy hair and fancy shoes. You with the styled curls and store-bought salsa. I want you here with me. Oh, your emotions have not yet landed? That's a relief, neither have mine. Oh, your story is still unfolding, uncertain, unknown? Thank goodness, me too. Come sit on my living room floor. Let's have a circle. The women behind Lucia gathered Friday night for tacos, mezcal, and May....
“We're planting a butterfly garden,” she says.How will the bees feel about this? Buzzing in the thatches of purple spear salvia, singularly focused, they won't pay mind to the construction in the next door lot. And the hummingbirds? They have the honeysuckle trumpets and sugar water hanging from the eaves.
