Once again--doesn't fail--thoughtful, articulate, tender reflections, as delicate--and as robust--as those Quaker Ladies springing up from your lawn. I've enjoyed them. Thanks, Kathleen.
Oh Kathleen, I will miss your weekly thoughts, with all the soulful clarity you embed into your posts. But so happy to think of you digging in the dirt and playing. Happy Mothers Day to you😁
Oh thanks Heather! I will miss having you there on the other side of the computer, accompanying me on this journey. I am already regretting my decision to take this time off from writing but you know all the old saws are true: we need to take care of ourselves to do this work we do!!!!
I share your need to be outside, Kathleen. For me it's birding, walking, biking, regaining muscle tone after a much too sedentary winter and continuing to seek out ways I can contribute to those serious issues of the day. I will miss your missives--read first every Sunday morning--but am gladdened that you will return to us with your wisdom later in the year. May you have dirt under your fingernails and sand between your toes this summer. Much love to you.
This morning, when I read that you are taking a break from your Sunday web spinning, I felt a throb of loss. I have been so deeply met by your writings, Kathleen, and wondered how I'd keep perspective without you. And then, just now, like the all of a sudden of a shooting star, I found an email about the work of a group of astrophysicists who are putting sound to the images they collect from telescopes in space-https://chandra.si.edu/sound/index.html#gcenter-and realize that going big, very big, provides the perspective I need. So some of us will brighten with bluets and others of us will whirl on star music and look for each other again in the seasons to come.
I've never been replaced by star music from outer space before! Thanks, Helena! See you on the other side of the bright light!! Have a wonderful summer whirling with the cosmos.
We’ll miss you Kathleen but I get it. There is a seasonality to our lives in Maine and this season is the time for digging in the dirt. I love to drive by my former gardens, peonies in full boom, self propagating irises claiming their space without apology. It makes me happy to see trees we planted years ago reaching high into the sky. I love that you are still making gardens, opening to the earth, taking care. And the phoebe, I’ve got one inhabiting an abandoned nest in a wreath just outside my front door. 🍄🌿💐
Gonna miss reading these but take comfort knowing your wisdom light will continue to shine in other ways and help us all to see a way through. Happy gardening and Happy Mother’s Day!
You've earned your break, Kathleen. You've done such wonderful work with the writing, scanning the dark horizon even as you open up and look within in order to connect it all so beautifully. Enjoy the climb up loam mountain. No doubt you'll bring back treasures from the journey to share as we slip back into that certain slant of light come fall. Until then, enjoy being a robin in the grass...
Once again--doesn't fail--thoughtful, articulate, tender reflections, as delicate--and as robust--as those Quaker Ladies springing up from your lawn. I've enjoyed them. Thanks, Kathleen.
Oh Kathleen, I will miss your weekly thoughts, with all the soulful clarity you embed into your posts. But so happy to think of you digging in the dirt and playing. Happy Mothers Day to you😁
Oh thanks Heather! I will miss having you there on the other side of the computer, accompanying me on this journey. I am already regretting my decision to take this time off from writing but you know all the old saws are true: we need to take care of ourselves to do this work we do!!!!
I share your need to be outside, Kathleen. For me it's birding, walking, biking, regaining muscle tone after a much too sedentary winter and continuing to seek out ways I can contribute to those serious issues of the day. I will miss your missives--read first every Sunday morning--but am gladdened that you will return to us with your wisdom later in the year. May you have dirt under your fingernails and sand between your toes this summer. Much love to you.
May the Baltimore orioles be plenty and your quads grow strong! Thanks for your kind support and new friendship.
This morning, when I read that you are taking a break from your Sunday web spinning, I felt a throb of loss. I have been so deeply met by your writings, Kathleen, and wondered how I'd keep perspective without you. And then, just now, like the all of a sudden of a shooting star, I found an email about the work of a group of astrophysicists who are putting sound to the images they collect from telescopes in space-https://chandra.si.edu/sound/index.html#gcenter-and realize that going big, very big, provides the perspective I need. So some of us will brighten with bluets and others of us will whirl on star music and look for each other again in the seasons to come.
I've never been replaced by star music from outer space before! Thanks, Helena! See you on the other side of the bright light!! Have a wonderful summer whirling with the cosmos.
Replaced? Never! Complemented, perhaps. All the best to you, Kathleen.
We’ll miss you Kathleen but I get it. There is a seasonality to our lives in Maine and this season is the time for digging in the dirt. I love to drive by my former gardens, peonies in full boom, self propagating irises claiming their space without apology. It makes me happy to see trees we planted years ago reaching high into the sky. I love that you are still making gardens, opening to the earth, taking care. And the phoebe, I’ve got one inhabiting an abandoned nest in a wreath just outside my front door. 🍄🌿💐
Gonna miss reading these but take comfort knowing your wisdom light will continue to shine in other ways and help us all to see a way through. Happy gardening and Happy Mother’s Day!
You've earned your break, Kathleen. You've done such wonderful work with the writing, scanning the dark horizon even as you open up and look within in order to connect it all so beautifully. Enjoy the climb up loam mountain. No doubt you'll bring back treasures from the journey to share as we slip back into that certain slant of light come fall. Until then, enjoy being a robin in the grass...