blurry love

It’s been a month since our dearest whippersnapper Juniper left the earth plain, and boy, has it been a roller-coaster. The last week has been the easiest, but there are still those surprise moments that absolutely clobber me. She was such an embodiment of spirit and joy. I sure miss her.

I also realized I hadn’t included a sweater or shoe photo, so here they are and will likely be added to my tribute post, as well, because I like order.

Marry Me Chicken is worth the hype, and, bonus, it isn’t terribly complicated, either. Had I not already captured Greg’s heart, it would definitely do the proper magic.

A smoked salmon and Gruyere omelette, and a Greek yogurt sauce with crushed anise seed, salt, and pepper, for delicious Scandi vibes. Plus, our favorite grapes!

Can you see us? We are small, but mighty. Greg is waving…

A downtown adventure to the Paralympic Museum (exterior, anyway) and America the Beautiful Park, the location was inspired to write the song. We’d been meaning to go for ages and finally got it together. It was such a gloriously beautiful day.

Be well, dear reader…

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Shimmering

Happiness was like a green vine spreading through her, stretching fine tendrils, bearing flowers through her flesh. She had a vision of a pale white flower, shimmering as if seen in darkness, or through water. Why did people talk of heaven, she wondered.

Patricia Highsmith

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Flitted

Sometimes, in a summer morning,
having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise
till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs,
in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sing around or
flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at
my west window, or the noise of some traveller’s wagon on the distant
highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons
like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the
hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but
so much over and above my usual allowance.

Henry David Thoreau

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Concrete

Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life; everyone must carry out a concrete assignment that demands fulfillment. Therein he cannot be replaced, nor can his life be repeated. Thus, everyone’s task is unique as is his specific opportunity to implement it.

Viktor Frankl

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