At 40, I notice now more than ever~
Moon phase changes.
Myself in others.
That which connects us moreso than
that which separates us.
Dough elasticity.
My inner voice.
Strength in vulnerability
and flexibility.
That life is hard
and beautiful
and awful
and full of wonder.
That even when you think the answer will be a hard 'no', ask anyw…
That even when you think the answer will be a hard 'no', ask anyway. You'd be surprised how many times you'll get an enthusiastic 'yes'.
A couple weeks ago I asked my neighbor if I could liberate the sidewalk tree in front of their house, which to me seemed sad from growing in the sidewalk with less than a foot of exposed soil extending in any direction from thier foot-and-a-half wide trunk. He gave the okay and within an hour I'd used prybar, sledge, and desire to remove a few square feet of concrete (permits be damned!) from Beech's foot. The very last piece of concrete was pressed tight up against Beech and when I pried it up, I removed a decent piece of bark. "I'm sorry!" I said out loud to this being that I hurt when my intention was only to help. I hugged Beech, scooped a barrow full of home-made compost and dumped many buckets of water on the exposed soil around her, then tucked her in with a good layer of mulch.
At 40, I notice now more than ever~
Moon phase changes.
Myself in others.
That which connects us moreso than
that which separates us.
Dough elasticity.
My inner voice.
Strength in vulnerability
and flexibility.
That life is hard
and beautiful
and awful
and full of wonder.
That even when you think the answer will be a hard 'no', ask anyway. You'd be surprised how many times you'll get an enthusiastic 'yes'.
A couple weeks ago I asked my neighbor if I could liberate the sidewalk tree in front of their house, which to me seemed sad from growing in the sidewalk with less than a foot of exposed soil extending in any direction from thier foot-and-a-half wide trunk. He gave the okay and within an hour I'd used prybar, sledge, and desire to remove a few square feet of concrete (permits be damned!) from Beech's foot. The very last piece of concrete was pressed tight up against Beech and when I pried it up, I removed a decent piece of bark. "I'm sorry!" I said out loud to this being that I hurt when my intention was only to help. I hugged Beech, scooped a barrow full of home-made compost and dumped many buckets of water on the exposed soil around her, then tucked her in with a good layer of mulch.
Tree hugs and extra bread slices. Hell yes.