Moving On

First, my apologies.  Our internet has been dysfunctional the past few weeks.  I suppose I am lucky to have it at all out here.  Unable to post, keep up, respond, check in as I would like to.  There will be time to catch up in the future.  Winter comes.

Though I care for many of you, in my odd and quiet way. Strong and fiery as my voice may sound at times.  To those who noticed my absence and wrote to check in, thank you.  Yes, I am alive and well.  Not even too busy or depressed, off in the wilderness or on the road.  No real good excuse except the satellite connection, or lack thereof.

Second, an update.  Where I am.

Where I am is where I was is where I will remain.

Where I am meant to be.  For now, if not forever, for who can portend the future?

Full moon on frosted grass in the dark hours of morning.  Silver lights shine underfoot with almost as much mystery as the sparkle of the overhead stars.  Familiarity is lost to magic of the moment and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Changing of seasons, of stages of life.  Aging, passing, birth and death.  A dying forest surrounding me, calling for my voice to speak where it cannot.  A hawk circles me, confirms, accepts, allows.  We speak a silent dance for just a moment.  Long enough.

So much changes, remaining where I am.  The soothing blanket set out to dry in fierce winds.  Refreshing.  Discomforting.  Take not the console of comfort for granted.  Too easily lost.  And found. Changing.

The first of leaves fade brown and yellow.  An early passing this year. You know I am ready.

Forrest returns to university, to Canada.  Bob and I to our empty but busy nest.

Plans for winter projects, putting up hay, groceries, firewood, chickens, starting winter lettuce to grow in my kitchen this fall…

Third, some thought of gratitude, words of thanks.

Thank you for joining me here.  Some strangers, some friends, even a few I have never met but have become a part of our family over the years…

Thank you for being there, for sticking with me.  Allowing me to speak.  Quiet as my voice may be.  Allowing me to listen.  To challenge and talk and argue…No, we won’t always see eye to eye… I don’t need to speak with a mirror.  I would rather speak with you.

Thank you for being there, for reminding me none of us are
ever really alone.  All we need to do is reach out.

Today I send a long arm out to you with a slow embrace through the wires or wavelengths or whatever makes this stuff work.