#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Whatever peace I know rests in the natural world,
in feeling myself a part of it, even in a small way.
~ May Sarton
Charlie is not thrilled. A text comes from my friend, early, to paddle board on Farm Pond. “I’ll be there in four minutes,” I say. It’s a gloriously sunny morning on the pond. Summer is short, we seize the pond under a cloudless sky. Charlie’s walk, when I return, is shorter than usual. I have gardening I want to do and the storms will come later. I am mulching the flower garden and rounding up more rocks. I will not need to water. A beautiful hardwood has fallen into the river on our property; the river has been high for so long, it has been standing too long in water. Perhaps it won’t die. I realize later in the day that I had accidentally paused my blog and so last night’s blog was never delivered this morning. Frank and I are home together all day, in when it’s wet and thundery, out when it’s dry and breezy, doing gardening and yard chores; a perfect Sunday. Except someone needs our help, our compassion, our guidance, and we do that listening and sharing together; we’re a team. I am not religious. But there is a prayer I believe in more than any other and for thirty-five years it’s the prayer I try to practice, and some days must practice it more than others.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.