So often we don’t make the most of the moment in which we live. – C.Lynn
My Unlikely Pilgrimage, continued…
Journal, day, March 18, 2017
“You had to keep crawling up,
not believing it,
only to be punched down again,
until the truth well and truly hit home.” – p. 60, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry
Journal, day, March 19, 2017
At home (my own home) I don’t (have to) worry about time, or length of days.
Journal, day, March 21, 2017
I’ve just enjoyed the pleasant sight of the bluejay taking a bath here in front of me in the birdbath.
Bluejays aren’t afraid.
He even came back splashing louder than before.
The little yellow finch flew off to the bath at the back of the yard when he saw me. I am sitting in ‘their garden’.
The mourning doves are serenading.
The airplanes continue to pass by overhead, behind me.
It is so pleasant to be in this place –
where I continue to have thoughts of ‘Poppy’ (Bob).
I wonder if he enjoyed it as much as I do.
The bluejay sits in the tree. Shaking his wet tail feathers, he flies to a higher, sunnier branch at this evening hour. Another comes to have his bath here in front of me –
the mourning doves continue to coo from behind.
Birds surround me.
Nature surrounds me
with its gentle embrace
the human race.