Such a difference between the old school tungsten yellow light of wood lamps with dirty glass compared to the modern salty white light of sodium vapor parking lot lamps. What colors the landscape that I see? Where does its flavor come from? Is it the source of light or the history of my mind?
From Melissa Pierson:
The brake pads close like a vice on the front disk. The bike is heavy and is unbalanced at rest, waiting for the human to help it become its true self. With a push of a button, the engine fires and there is contained fire only inches from the riders knees. With a twist of the throttle, the bike launches and becomes as stable as stone. On the road, you can look at your shadow chasing you. A moving portrait in the medium of light and asphalt.
It is spring now in the northern hemisphere with the promise of new life, warmer weather, and longer days. Although today it is gloomy, and cold raindrops are falling like ice picks, the daffodils are trying their best to hold up their heads and the forsythia are festooned with bright yellow cheer. I heard robins and cardinals hiding in the trees calling with their gregarious voices and bluejays crying in their sharpness. The grass is greening. The magnolia and dogwood are blooming. So its on! The planet has gifted us another season.
Hannah shared this:
"We are just silly mammals trying our best and eating snacks and looking at the stars and making nests with the people we love. The expectation that we will live up to the goodness of angels is a wrong one."
Thanks for sharing that Kiddo! That is a very good grounding reminder of what we are.
