The promise

I start the week with a broken range.  Locked out of stove top and oven because of a suspected short in the control panel, I can’t create with ingredients.  No dinner making. No holiday baking. No soups, chili, stew, cornbread, or greens.

My reliance on Wegman’s shifts from produce to prepared-right-there aisles.

If I shift my exasperation to the side a bit, I can see the promise of this week of waiting for the repair person.

Instead of gathering flour, sugar, and butter, I can gather pine cones, pine boughs, and glue gun.  Wreaths and swags can emerge from my hands, and I am still able to move into the season of advent, a time of re-grounding and renewal as I watch the sun move to its most southern point in my afternoon sky.

The promise of the sun returning, the days lengthening, fuels my hope for peace and inspiration.

The promise of hope.

From a broken range.

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Leaves on Kitchen Creek

Falling Leaves

I am grateful for falling leaves, golden lacy edges resting on rock and water.  

In the big scheme of things

In the big scheme of things, I am just one person, one set of feet walking across the National Mall and into the National Gallery.  I am just one camera capturing light and shadow, positive space and negative line.

However “only” I am, I do have a vision of a just and safe space for every human being.

And in the big scheme of things that vision, that art, remains visible, discoverable, actionable.

 

in the big scheme of things

Human being walking into National Art Gallery, East Wing, Washington, DC, 6 October 2017

Don’t Make Me Dig This Hole Again

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Midweek Peek

 

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