Morning...

I brought the last Gladiolus blooms into the house a few days ago, The bugs were starting to dine on the buds

 I wanted this beautiful flower to last as long as possible...

So I put it in a small pitcher, slicing the stem diagonally to absorb more water. Then I placed the flower on the sink, near the window...  It has been so lovely to have this flower greet me these last few mornings.

Such simple beauty and yet so complicated. If this flower could talk, I'm sure it would have all kinds of wonderful things to say.

The leaves sparkle their "Good morning" to me as I prepare my drink at the counter. The Prospector, usually outside, comes in and says "Good morning" too. The aroma of the coffee, the foamy milk, the coolness of the morning and the little dog waiting, at my feet... It is, I realize, one of the rituals of my life.
 I carry a whole graham cracker and half of a banana, on a napkin, with the mug of coffee, watching that I don't trip on anything. I'm not really awake until I finish my first cup of coffee. This is a risky walk from the kitchen to the living room without caffeine... It's done with care.
 I sit down on the couch and the Corgi boys take their places on each side of me. They get one scoop of foam from my cup. A different finger for each dip. Then they wait for a piece of graham cracker at the end.
This is how the ritual goes.
I slowly wake up.
I think about what we need to do today... where I need to start.
The dogs leave... hearing some invisible noise.
I return to the kitchen and pour another cup of coffee.
As I stand at the kitchen sink, I think about the blessings in my life.
They are many. I say a quiet thank you.

And the gladiolus sits in its little white pitcher.

Smiling...

Reality

Wind brings movement
outside my window.
Moving leaves and branches,
here and there,
passing unseen
except by what it touches
as it moves through the air.

Sometimes I wish I were
like this wind.
blowing through life.
but...

I am more
like a large dog
on it's rounds,
leaving footprints everywhere
in the neighbor's garden,
wagging my tail
and
wearing out my welcome.

Shadow Sense

Shadows

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see...
from: A Child's Garden of Verses byRobert Louis Stevenson

My shadow is older, now, and taller, but it is still attached and I see it on sunny walks in the hills or behind me at my kitchen window. It's vague, gray shape is disturbing and reassuring at the same time. As long as it keeps making the same moves I do everything will be all right.
When I took these photos, a few days ago, it occurred to me that the oak tree shadow was far more beautiful than mine. What do you think?