...a barely thematic journey through my tangentizing mental life...
More than words and space
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| Chapel |
Space and words can be sacred. I am glad these are.
I had a visitor at the bus stop this morning
He was cute, but there was no way I was getting any closer (4 feet was quite sufficient).
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(C) Laura Springer
Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.
And the leaves are tinged by the shortening days (Red 12)
Here in the flatlands of Southern California, the seasons are most often signaled by the calendar, rather than the weather. But for anyone with a liquid amber tree this is not the case, for the leaves begin to turn as soon as the days begin to shorten.
Sure, the weather can be hot or cold, clear or cloudy, wet or dry, but the red-tinged leaves tell the story: fall is here.
All one need do is read the subtle signs.
All one need do is read the subtle signs.
What life reveals (Red 11)
We try so hard to hide those parts of ourselves we find unbecoming. For if they knew...
But sometimes--most times?--life wears away the facade and reality peers out: just a hint at first and then full on. So we have a choice: we can dutifully maintain the facade, reapplying the latest hue, or we can bare our souls, hoping no one laughs and points or turns a face in horror.
Now, where's that paint bucket?
Now, where's that paint bucket?
The perpetual plant (Red 10)
One day, thinking it was synthetic, I nipped a bit of leaf. It was real. I don't understand it's lack of growth. I don't understand flowers that never go to seed. I do know it's there and real.
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