I cherish the slow, silent, early morning moments when the sun slips through the borders of landscape and caresses the awakening garden. I anticipate those heavenly moments when angel rays reach out and press the promise of a newborn day.
We recently moved an old wicker rocker, a keepsake from the old Ohio homestead, to the front porch. It shows its age, but, then, so do I, which is quite fine. We immediately bonded, as elders often do, rocking back and forth in an early morning ritual of a cuppa tea at daylight and birdsong.
I have been a wee bit busy lately, writing and editing about the glorious gardens on this year’s Elmhurst Garden Walk and Faire. In between tip-tapping away on the laptop, I’ve been tending the gardens as best I can and roaming the preserves and pathways around us. I’ve also been nursing a back injury; a bother to say the least, and a real pain in my back to say the worst. I’m on the mend, but, lost quite a few days in the fog of meds, a trip to the ER, and what must have looked like giant trying to put Jack back in the Box as Tom made valiant attempts at inserting me into the car – with a patch on his eye! Good thing angels were watching over us.
This isn’t about our troubles, however, but, to explain my absence, yet again, from these Cutoff pages, and to get on with the business of showing you that in spite of personal worries we all have, and in the shadow of all of the troubles and turmoil on this fragile planet, we can endeavor to reach for those angel rays, no matter how fleeting they are.