Blah blah blah blah moon, blah blah blah blah June... warning - long post

Here comes June.  David's fourth day post-work.  And day 40 and counting down for me.  40 sounds like a long time, and then I recall that 10 of those days at least will be "vacation" days.  

I've been thinking about the concept of "home."  This train of thought was triggered by the fact that on my drive back from Connecticut last week, when crossing from New Hampshire into Maine, I had a deep feeling of coming home.  

I remember talking to my brother John about our feelings about "home" in the days after our mother died.  John said that "home" to him had always been wherever our mother was.  That wasn't true for me.  I think back then I felt like a turtle, carrying my "home" on my back, so that "home" was wherever I was.  Not literally as in when I visited people, but wherever I lived at any time.  Of course I moved around a lot.  Once I moved 8 times in a 10 or 11 year period.  Recently I read a long NY Times article about Jackson Heights, in Queens, NY, and I posted on Facebook that Jackson Heights still feels like "home" to me.  And that's true on some level.  I think Jackson Heights did feel like home when I lived there.  For one thing, my kids came and lived with me after a period of separation  It's really where they did their growing up (and so did I, for that matter).  It's where I became Jewish.  It's where I lived when I really established a "career" in law.

I remember when Sam and I moved to Atlanta, I was very grateful at that point to leave New York.  Sam was struggling in school and I think I was ready for a change.  Atlanta felt open with possibilities.  I liked having a car again, the feeling of freedom.  Being near family - my brother in Atlanta, my mother in Tennessee - felt good.  And on some level, coming back South felt like coming home.  I think the incredibly loud Southern music of nightly insect concerts struck some deep childhood memory chord.  The vegetation, the climate, the insects of the South have always seemed deeply familiar.  

Likewise on moving to Connecticut I was so glad to be leaving Atlanta's heat, humidity, pollen, and traffic.  Connecticut did not feel like home, but it felt like a welcome change.  I loved watching the seasons change.  I loved the manageability of the "urban" environment.  No more 16 lanes of traffic on my commute; just a public bus ride.  And although I lived in Connecticut a long time - 96-98, and again 2000 - 2012, it didn't really ever feel like "home" in the same way that Jackson Heights did.  I think in part it's because I always knew I would leave some day.

So here I am, in Maine.  I think part of why this feels so much like "home" is our house.  This is only the second house I have ever bought.  The first was in Birmingham, Alabama, back in 1975.  My recollection is that it was much more Hayne who wanted to buy a house rather than rent than I.  And I don't think I ever looked at our house as a place we were going to live long term.  That's more because of my age - mid-20s - and what we were doing with our lives back then,  We were young.  We were radical.  Life seemed full of motion, change.  Putting down roots in one place was not where it was at, so to speak.

But this house, this 154 year old house in a Mid Coast Maine town of 7,500 where the median income is 15% below the state average (and the state average is the lowest in the Northeast), this house with its peeling wallpaper, with it's 1980s rose-colored carpet in the living room (laid down over even older mustard colored carpet laid down over wooden floors), with its tiny yard, crumbling garage, solid foundation and dry (thank God) basement - this house feels like home.  When I plant my tomato and cucumber seedlings, my rows of carrot seeds, my mint,  oregano and basil - these growing things carry my roots down into the soil as well as their own.

Soon my time will be my own, and I will be using that time here, at home, with deepening roots supporting me in this place, whatever comes next.  

Meanwhile, a look at the goings on in Midcoast Maine (the "pasture and forage" event sounds interesting - if living on social security proves difficult, it might be good to know how to forage):

• "All About Bats," 7 p.m., Lincolnville Library. Annie Kassler of Bat Conservation International presents the free program with more than a hundred photos.

• "Glimpses of Vajrayana: The Tantric Path of Indestructible Wakefulness," Brunswick Shambhala Meditation Center. Registration 7 p.m. Talk by Acharya Emeritus Judy Lief 7:30 p.m. All welcome. Donations taken. FMI/registration: BrunswickMaine.Shambhala.org.

• "The Maven of Manners in a Motorcar," 7:30 p.m., Old Town House, Union. Free talk by Marilyn Solvay to Union Historical Society on Emily Post's 1915 cross-country trip. All welcome.

• Talk by Early U.S. Clothing Expert, Tues., June 9, Thomaston Historical Society, 80 Knox St. Talk by Julie Stackpole, author of "Dressing the New Republic: Authentic American Costumes from 1775 to 1805," after short 7 p.m. biz mtg. of Historical Society. Refreshments. Free & open to all.

• Talk on Agro-Homeopathy, Weds., June 10, 6-8 p.m., Deer Foot Farm, 1221 Union Rd. (Rte. 131), Appleton. Kelly Callahan tells how to treat animals, crops and people. FMI: 785-3200.

• 2-Part Pasture & Forage Workshop, Weds., June 10, at Kennebec Cheesery, 795 Pond Rd., Sidney, and Weds., June 17, at Oaklands Farm, 114 Oaklands Farm Rd., Gardiner, both 6-7:30 p.m. Led by USDA, UMaine & MOFGA. $15. Register by June 8: extension.umaine.edu/register/product/pasture-forage-management.

Peace.  

Change, change, change

First, yesterday was David's last day at work - he is officially retired.  And, as he put it, "freaking happy."

Next, last Tuesday I had my five year CT scan - all clear.  From the point of view of cancer, I guess you could say I am "cured".  It's a milestone.  I feel huge relief and enormous gratitude.

Finally, I gave my employer notice that I, too, will be retiring.  My last day at work will be July 27.  Now I truly start counting down to a new beginning.

Between now and then, in mid-June a visit from Melissa, John and Austin - cousins from Tennessee - and in July, from Sam, Cachao and Cello, my boys.  

Then, and I hope always, this is what I'll look forward to seeing every morning - taken on my morning walk with Ella on Memorial Day weekend:

Peace.  Peace. Far and Near.  Soon, in our lifetimes.

Cello's 4th Birthday! And it turns out ... pneumonia!

First, and most importantly, it is Cello's 4th birthday!  How handsome and happy does this birthday boy look?!?  I wish I could be there to share cake - but I'm counting days until Sam and both Cello and Cachao come for a visit to Maine in July!  Happy Birthday Cello!

So turns out I wasn't "better."  Last Monday I felt worse, significantly, and also thought I might have a fever.  Turns out, yes, 101.1 - not off the charts but I knew how I felt.  So David took me to Pen Bay to the ER.  The nurse who did the intake seemed skeptical, or maybe I just felt defensive and stupid.  Then I saw handsome, kind and very young doctor, Dr. M.  He asked questions, heard the history I told, listened to my chest.  He said it sounded to him like I had pneumonia, although he couldn't hear it in my chest when he listened.  He sent me for chest x-rays.  Bingo.  Pneumonia.  Eventually I got a prescription for an antibiotic and came home.

The med instructions and the general discharge papers both said I could feel "improvement" in 1-2 days and feel "significantly better" in 3-4 days, and warned direly of the need to keep taking all 10 days of antibiotics.  The next day I felt terrible.  Unfortunately I'm in a particularly bad stretch at work, so I couldn't just stay in bed, but I did end up taking about half day.  By the 3rd day I did feel "some improvement."  I knew it because I woke up and wanted coffee for the first time in many days.  Since then, some down and up and down.  People I talk to - who have had or know someone who had - pneumonia tell me it can take weeks to recover fully.  The hardest parts are the periodic deep racking cough (which I think may actually be useful in breaking up the mucus in my lung - only have the pneumonia in one lung, for which I am grateful) and how battered and bruised my whole body feels from the coughing, and the extreme exhaustion, which actually comes in waves.

I had a nice long catch up with Dan one day this week.  He was wondering when I would be coming to CT.  I had to cancel the CT scan that was scheduled for May 11, and therefore, the planned trip, too.   Young Dr. M of the ER said that the pneumonia could cause "ambiguity" in the scan results, that lymph nodes in my chest would appear angry and swollen, etc.  I waited until Friday and then rescheduled for the day after Memorial Day.  Hopefully I'll be well on the recovery road by then.

Meanwhile, the world moves on, although without my paying very close attention.  I hate that.  But frankly, just finding the energy to work every day pretty much has taken all my attention, all my energy.  While my attention has been otherwise occupied those delicate light green early leaves have burst out on the trees everywhere.  The willows are positively fuzzy with greenness.  And our own tulips have colored:

I took this of Ella the same afternoon in our back yard:

Here in Mid Coast Maine, life goes on.  Here's a randomly selected sample from this week's Free Press:

• Star Gazing at Deer Foot Farm, Fri., May 15, 8 p.m., Rte. 131, Appleton. Georges River Land Trust presents Pete Kalajian of Central Maine Astronomical Society, who leads naked-eye observation. Public welcome. FMI: 594-5166.
• Alewife Walk with Naturalist, Sat., May 16, 8 a.m. Don Reimer leads it at Payson Park, Warren. All welcome. FMI: Georges River Land Trust, 594-5166.
• Sensory Awareness Walk at Cross Point Preserve, Sat., May 16, 9-10:30 a.m. All ages. Meet at trailhead parking lot on Rte. 27, 3.2 miles from Boothbay Center monument. FMI: thall@bbrlt.org.
• Home Firewood Production, Sat., May 16, 9-11 a.m., Hidden Valley Nature Center Barn, Jefferson. Learn how to process & stack next winter's wood. $12/$10 HVNC, SWLA, DLWA, PWA and SVCA members. Advance registration preferred: hvnc.org.
• Birding Paddle on Goose River, Sat., May 16, 9 a.m.-1 p.m. Meet at put-in behind Swan Lake Grocery off Rte. 141, Swanville. Bring boat, lunch, sunscreen. FMI: BelfastBayWatershed.org.
• Maine Old Cemetery Association Program, Sat., May 16. Morning program ($3) and lunch ($7) at First Congregational-Christian Church, New Gloucester, followed by field trip to New Gloucester Lower Cemetery. RSVP by May 7: 877-7675, rootslilla@gmail.com.
• "Spirituality and Religion" Public Conversation, Sat., May 16, 9 a.m.-3 p.m., Farmstead Conf. Ctr., Rte. 1, Rockport. Speakers and small-group discussions for people of all (or no) religions. $25 covers lunch. Send check by May 13: Nativity Lutheran Church, 179 Old County Rd., Rockport, 04849. FMI: 596-0519.

From the ridiculous to the sublime, I guess.  Later today, I am hoping to have the energy to drive to Rockport and join the rest of my ukulele ensemble to pay 3 songs at some private school fundraiser.  They asked our teacher if he would be willing to do it and he asked us.  The last time we were ALL together to practice was a couple weeks ago so I hope we don't suck too bad.  But, hey, it's free entertainment and its UKULELES!!  Ukuleles make you smile!

Peace (and many more happy birthdays to the Cello Man!)

Spring, a morning visit and another rant

Spring arrives, sooner or later, usually later, even in Mid Coast Maine.  Signs?  First, crocuses.

Those are from a morning walk with Ella last week.  At our house, the tulips have burst through the sodden ground, but they haven't bloomed yet.

Second, windjammers are being pulled from the water into dry dock to be spruced up for summer.  Down at Ulner's Point, three so far, including this one:

We had an early morning visitor to our deck twice last week.  Ella was very excited and really wanted to go out and "greet" her one-on-one.  

She left our house and found her way to our neighbor's back porch. Then plucked up insects from her front yard.  David said he saw this chicken stare down a cat, who backed away.  Not your run of the mill bird.

I've been under the weather for what seems like a long time but actually has been about a week or so.  Some congestion from a cold I had and thought I had whipped came back in my chest and I haven't been able to kick it.  It's left me feeling ... I guess I would say ... about 75%.  Saps my energy.  Saps mental clarity - well, that might be an exaggeration since that implies I HAD mental clarity to be sapped, but I guess I mean, it's made working difficult because it's made concentrating difficult.  (I actually feel ever so slightly better today, so anyone reading this, anyone who cares, keep those appendages crossed for me....)

 * * * * * *

The world endlessly devolves toward chaos.  How can I write the name "Freddie Gray" after having written the names of so many other young black men in this blog over the past months?  Like the crocuses and daffodils and other signs of spring, Baltimore bursts into protest.  "But, wait," I hear someone saying, "aren't you going to condemn the  'riots'?  Everyone has sympathy for the poor, for the discriminated against,  but 'rioting' is wrong!"  So goes the ubiquitous condemnation, including by our Afro-American president.  After all, if you somehow condone burning down a CVS, you might eventually think it's okay to burn down Wall Street!  Imagine that!  No, no!  This is America and private property is sacred.  (Let's not ask how long ago the young people doing the "rioting" themselves were considered to be "private property" in this great democracy of ours.)  

I think we white people, most especially we middle class white people, need to wake up.  Is it not obvious that in large part we have done as well as we have over the past several decades - since Ronald Reagan's "trickle down economics" - on the backs of the mass incarceration and related deepening impoverishment and exclusion of Black and Brown people from "normal" society?  I know all we white people would like to believe the myth that we have "earned" everything we have, that we "work hard" and so if our little piece of the pie has grown a little, we deserve it (and, logically, those who don't have a piece of the pie, not even a crumb, they must NOT have earned it, they must NOT deserve it!)  

What is it about a white person that keeps him or her from looking at a Freddie Gray or any of the young black men and women in the streets of Baltimore this week and asking the question, "What if that were me?  What if that were my child?  What if I lived in West Baltimore?  If my child grew up on those streets?   Are we all so smug, so entrenched in our own narrow self-regard that we think it wouldn't matter, that we would rise about it through "hard work" and "earning" it?  That even if we lived in a neighborhood with 50% unemployment, house after house abandoned and boarded up, where the stores have no fresh food and what they have is priced exorbitantly, where the infant mortality rate is higher than in most third world countries, where our brothers, our sons, our husbands are in prison or on parole or being illegally arrested and ending up dead - oh, no, not us, we wouldn't "riot" then?  Rioting is wrong.  We would peacefully protest.  We would "vote" in change.  

Right....  okay, enough ranting.  For now.  Not promising anything about next post.

* * * * * * *

I have a new concept to share, at least I think it's a new concept - yart!  Yart is the term David and I have given to "yard art".  You know what it is.  You've seen it.  It may be religious in nature.  It may be folksy.  It's not unique to Maine but it is very widespread up here.   I plan to start sharing photos of yart here.  And here's the first - and a very very widespread work of yart up here and particular pet peeve of mine:  the miniature faux well:

These miniature faux wells are plopped down all over town, all over Maine.  It's as if someone drove through with an 18-wheeler loaded down with miniature fake wells 10 or 15 years ago and hundreds of people thought, "Oh, how precious!" and plunked one down on their lawn.  Note also the second piece of yart behind the fake well - a multi-tiered fake art deco bird bath. (By the way, do you think one could legitimately abbreviate fake art deco as fart deco?)  

In time perhaps I'll branch out into gart - that obviously would be "garden art" - you know, the garden gnome, the granite turtle, ceramic deer...

What a world we live in - well, some of us live in.  

Not Freddie Gray.

Peace.

Ella

Okay, Susan, I have been poked... and this will be a LONG post!

I have no real excuse for how long it has been since I posted here.  Time passes.  Things happen.  Winter slowly, slowly, slowly drained away.  Huge piles of snow evaporated or melted leaving ugly grimy smaller piles of icy muck.  Days began warming, with nights staying below freezing.  Yet March in Maine is mostly winter.  Windjammers still in their shrink-wrap winter coats.  Ice in the harbor breaking up, but not gone:

Nights began warming.  We wake to an occasional inch of snow fall.  Finally our compost bin emerged from the snow.  The backyard cleared enough to permit walking to the bird feeders.  The raised bed garden was clear of snow, although the soil is still frozen.  It began to feel like spring might come.  Down at Ulmer's Point, the first windjammer was pulled from the water into dry dock to prepare her for summer work.  That means - notwithstanding the lingering piles of slushy ice, April is here:

Then came April 9th.  Here's what our backyard looked like that morning last week:

Even though David had to drag out the snow blower to clear the driveway, and we both shoveled around our cars and cleaned them off, within 24 hours most of this new snow was gone.















And so it goes.


Meanwhile, a quick trip to Connecticut and time with Helen, giving back a little of what she gives to so many.  Getting, suffering  and recovering from a bad cold, with David's kind support, then supporting him through the same.  Ukulele ensemble classes continuing (last one this coming Monday night).  David completed a wood carving class and he's now finishing his carving of a green-backed heron.  I submitted a poem to the Rockland Library's poetry contest; not particularly hopeful of being recognized this year, but it helps motivate me to keep working on poems.  David and I attended an evening of poetry and jazz sponsored by the new Belfast Poet Laureate.  Passover came - (and ends tonight.  The synagogue had a wonderful community seder.  David and I both volunteered at the Community Easter Dinner organized by the synagogue.  The room was beautiful, the volunteers hardworking and fun.  The food - donated by local restaurants and volunteers - seemingly endless.  We served about 120.

And so life in Mid Coast Maine goes on.  Here's my current selection of samples from The Free Press's "Calendar of Events."

• Blade Shearing School, Fri., April 17, 1-4 p.m., and Sat., April 18, 8 a.m.-3 p.m., Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village, New Gloucester. Sheep-shearing experience recommended. $120 includes manual and lunch both days. Spectators welcome. FMI: UMaine.edu.

• Women's Chainsaw Safety Class, Sat. & Sun., April 18 & 19. Hidden Valley Nature Center. 16+. All levels. $150/$130 HVNC members. Scholarships available. FMI: andy@hvnc.org.

• "Joy in Everyday Life," Tues., April 21-May 19, 6:30-8:30 p.m., Brunswick Shambhala Center, 19 Mason St. FMI: shambhalabp.org.

• "Rightsizing Your Stuff," Weds., April 22, Picker Family Resource Center on Pen Bay Med Center campus. Free talk by organizer Diane Smith. FMI: 921-8950.

I must say, I am very tempted by the Women's Chainsaw Safety Class as well as the Joy in Everyday Life.  I'll bet there are some women who find joy every day in chainsaws!

This morning the sun is out.  Ella and I went down to the boat school's dock.  They've put the first piece of the floating dock in the water and their small sailboats are out.  That means Community Sailing classes are starting.  That means Spring is here.

Coming up:  David's niece, Sara,  graduates from nursing school first weekend in May.  Rock on, Sara!  My 5 year CT scan is scheduled for May 11th back in Connecticut.  I hesitate to write the next thing I'm thinking, because, I guess, of some deeply held and instinctual superstition about "tempting fate," but I'll do it.  According to my doctor, if this CT scan is clear, that's it - no more CT scans!  Five years, NED - no evidence of disease.  They don't say "cured" with cancer, at least not often.  Knowing those who suffer so much harsher outcomes than I have, even the very worse, like Helen's dear Kim who lost her battle with late stage ovarian cancer last week - may Kim's memory be a blessing for Helen, for Kim's daughter and the grandchild she got to meet and spend time with, and all Kim's family and friends, now and always - and a colleague whose 20 year old son has a tumor wrapped around an artery in his leg - thinking of what so many others must deal with,  I feel so grateful for these past 5 years, for my past and current health, for the beautiful place I live, for my family, for my friends.

Every day is a gift.  So I think ahead to that 5 year CT scan, but try not to dwell on it.  This day, this one, right now, here, today - that is all there is.  And it is beautiful.

Peace.

From snow to mud...

Since last post here we have turned some kind of corner.  It's March.  The 10 and 12 foot piles of snow along both sides of the driveway have turned to ice and, like the Wicked Witch of the West, are melting away, inch by inch, day by day.  Our little back porch is clear, other than a two foot long icy mud-specked smear.  The entire top of the compost bin is visible.  The Adirondack chairs again are poking wooden backs and arms through the gritty slush.  More interesting, birds are singing everywhere.  They know - spring will come.  And, of course,  mud is the early spring harbinger.  With the amount of snow we had this winter, I envision mammoth amounts of mud to come.  It's 32 degrees but tonight we're supposed to get a mix of snow and rain.  That is March in Midcoast Maine.

The Intermediate ukulele class that David and I were attending has ended.  The Bay Chamber Ukulele Ensemble class I am in has 4 more classes to go.  We're discussing where we will perform the pieces we have been learning when class ends.   David is half way through a 6 week course in wood carving, making a Green Backed Heron.  Already he has managed to bring its lovely curves out of a hunk of wood.  The Rockland Public Library's annual poetry contest deadline for submitting poems is April 7th.  I'm thinking about it.  It seems unlikely that I could repeat the surprising luck I had the first year we moved here (when I was given 2nd place) but it keeps me thinking poetry.  I am half way through reading a book of the collected poems of Wendell Berry, alternating with other books, including right now "Dreaming Me - From Baptist to Buddhist, One Woman's Spiritual Journey" by Jan Willis, who is just 2 years older than I, grew up in segregated Alabama, went to Cornell and is a scholar and professor of religion at Wesleyan.

As I approach my 65th birthday this summer, I have begun to receive Medicare related mailings from what seem like hundreds of companies suddenly interested in my health, physical and financial.  In fact, assuming no untoward events, I AM counting down days to "retirement," although I have not made this known at work.  For the first time in my life since age 18, I intend to spend at least weeks and months, if not years, without the obligation to get up 5 days a week and and work for a pay check.  It is both thrilling and scary as hell.   After decades of working 9-5 (and often 8-8) to take care of my children and myself, pull out of debt, and eventually actually save money - to buy a house and put something toward "retirement" - now I am face to face with an entirely new stage of life in which I will be spending the money I worked so hard and so long to save instead of saving it...  and that is bone-chillingly frightening.

But meanwhile, here in Midcoast Maine, as we head into spring and toward our beautiful if brief fling with summer, and here's what's happening.  I am posting more items than usual this time, because ... well, because they seem to so represent to me what it's like to live here.  (Does it seem we have a population fairly equally divided among the elderly, hippy-back-to-nature types and working farmer-fisher persons?  I think that's about right!)

• Talk on Wild Bird Rehab, noon, Tuesday Talks at Merryspring Nature Center. By Laura Suomi-Lecker of Avian Haven in Freedom. $5/members free.

• "Diet and Dementia: What Works and What Doesn't," noon-1:30 p.m., Lunch and Learn Series at The Lincoln House, 22 River Rd., Newcastle. Registered dietitian Louise Spate speaks. Free lunch provided. RSVP: 563-3038 or Kacie@one2one.org.

• "Permaculture: A Vision for Regenerative Food Systems," Belfast Library. Belfast Garden Club biz meeting 1 p.m. Talk by certified permaculture designer Jesse Watson 2 p.m. Free. Open to all.

• Free Laundry 101 Workshop, 5 p.m., Clean Bee Laundry, Camden. Learn laundry basics and stain removal. If you have questions or topics you want covered, mention them when you register: 236-2530 or info@CleanBeeLaundry.com.

• "Invasive Forest Insect Outreach," 9 a.m.-1 p.m., Knox-Lincoln Cooperative Extension, 377 Manktown Rd., Waldoboro. Learn how to ID, report on and spread info about invasive insects. Free. Registration: 596-2040 or hildy@knox-lincoln.org.

• "Using Herbs to Find Comfort in Aging," 1 p.m., Camden Library. Jillian Kelsey-Rose presents the free program in the Quarry Hill's Adventures in Living Well Series. You must register: 921-6116.

• 11th Annual Maine Grass Farmers Network Grazing Conference, Sat., March 21, 8:30 a.m.-4 p.m., Kennebec Valley Community College, Fairfield. FMI: 568-4142 or umaine.edu/livestock/mgfn/conference.

• "Poisonous Mushrooms in Maine and How to Avoid Them," Sat., March 21, 2 p.m., Camden Library. Talk by Greg Marley, hosted by Maine Mycological Association.

• Beginning Blacksmithing Course, six weeks on Tues. & Thurs. starting Tues., March 24, 6-9 p.m., Curran Homestead Living History Farm and Museum, 372 Fields Pond Rd., Orrington. Limited to six. $385. Registration: 745-4426 or irv@BangorLettershop.com.

• Free Varicose Vein Screening, Weds., March 25, 5-7 p.m., Picker Family Resource Center on Pen Bay Med Center campus. Registration: 921-5744.

• Finnish for Beginners, Sat., Apr. 11 & 25 and May 9 & 23, 1-4 p.m., Jura Hall (beneath the Finnish Church), Rte. 131, South Thomaston. Ages 10 and up welcome. Marja-Leena Bailey teaches. $120; $100 for additional family members. FMI: gifford7tree@gmail.com or 989-1971.

• Camden Shakespeare Festival Seeks Volunteers, to help with performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream and Macbeth in Camden Amphitheatre, July 30-Aug. 16. FMI: info@CamdenShakespeare.org.

Every morning I awake and say "modah ahi... thank you ... " To whom do I say this?  I suppose to the God of Abraham who is the God I choose not to believe in mostly (except for moments I find I do or at least may believe).  I say thank you for the grace that is my life.  For my children, my partner, my family, friends, community, for health,  for birdsong, for sunrise, like this one from this past week:

And I ask for peace.  Peace. Peace.  Far and near.  May the memory of Tony Robinson be a blessing for his family and his community.  Peace be upon Tony Robinson, his family and all of us.