Category Plants in Ordinary
Gorged on wild berries, I’m deliciously full and sticky, lying here on the grass beside the stream, hat over my face, filtering just enough of the sun.
For the first time, we see one of Rose’s paintings, a work in progress: Bubble poppies bobbing in the breeze as a storm approaches the top of the hill.
Murgatroid steps across my hands, brushing her bushy black tail under my nose. But she doesn’t like the loamy soil. Dirties her paws. She soon retreats to the edge of the grass, where she plops down, spreads her forelegs back and over her head and exposes her underbelly to the morning sun.
Just as gardeners garden (that’s me), weavers weave, and builders build in Ordinary, anyone who loves to plan, cook, and assemble meals can choose more time in the kitchen.
Ralph’s eyes are soft, his smile gentle, reflecting my own. Making my way through the herb garden to the kitchen, I stop to pluck a bit of lemon thyme and crush it against my nose.
I give thanks for the twins, for this day, opening calm and sweet, for each one of the villagers, for a peaceful world, for this most beautiful Earth, for Spirit who helped us all to learn compassion and to grow peace in our hearts.
I waken gently from a dream of wildflowers blowing on the hillside. Murgatroid’s soft paw rests against my cheek. The room is dark under the new moon. Cool air lifts the gauzy curtain at the window, graceful spectre.