I've been so sick that I made this for breakfast.

Forget about hot tea - cool berries are so much better.

Don't strap onions to my chest or garlic to my feet; I will not have a scarf tied round my neck while I sleep or gel slathered across my back. 

But I will throw the window open and let the freezing air disinfect my lungs, suck on cold ice chips to soothe the burning furnace that is my throat, and warm back up in front of hubby's cozy fire.

I'm a bad patient, yes. A bad, bad, bad bad bad bad patient.

Where'd that smoothie go?

"....the next time you look out your window and feel full of love for the view, remember that folk like that cannot see what you see...sad, isn't it?"

I poured out my heart to this seventy-six year old friend recently in an unexpected gush of honesty. It was that kind of pouring where even as you are speaking and hearing the words come up and out of you, you feel ashamed hearing them. It is the kind of pouring when you think, "Is it possible that these feelings still exist in the grown-up world?"

But it turns out that it is possible - even in this grown-up world.

There are people roaming about in broad daylight who no matter how hard you try to please them, no matter how you alter your lifestyle to accommodate them, will just never be appeased. They masquerade as friends who love to look upon their success, their superiority, their wisdom, beauty or skill at navigating life flawlessly ... and are perfectly willing to punch you in the gut when you are not looking.

And what do you do with that - when the shame and constant surprise will not be shaken? What do you do when you are repeatedly too naive?

"I don't do crazy"

And that's that.

I've been reasoning myself out of reason for forty-two years - but the answer to the question is really very simple. I don't do crazy. I won't do crazy.

I don't do it.

Anymore.

The end.

Thank God.

Not yet spring in Switzerland ...

I asked the Silence to quicken my heart this morning - to help me love the family better - to help me love the daily grind.


 
The Silence answered: Why not make some Buckwheat Cranberry Pecan Muffins for starters?

And then a stranger knocked at my door.

I tried to understand you, define you, get a clear picture of who you are. But pattern and shadow are all I see - and quite frankly you rather resist being quantified.
 

But let that be. I would not have you clearer for a thousand understandings; your evasiveness is your beauty. 

I see you just fine.

One of the greatest benefits of having open walls in the kitchen is how utterly close you are to all that moves and flits outdoors.

Today this robin came to nibble her little seeds - and watch us nibble ours. I'm beginning to feel like texwisgirl...

In the cold slice of winter, she sits in trees and dreams of mysteries.