The harvest is rich, that we may be the kinder. Read The Rambler, Numb. 1. Tuesday, March 20, 1750, by Samuel Johnson. Received as a Christmas gift from “The Children” in 2015: The Rambler. In Four Volumes. The Tenth Edition. London: Printed for S. Strahan, J. Rivington and Sons, B. Collins, T. Longman, B. Law, C. Dilly, T. Carnan, J. Robson, G. Robinson, T. Lowndes, T. Cadell, W. Cater, H. […]
Save a dollar — what does that mean? Is the dollar in danger? Is it in dire need of my help? And how do I know which dollar it is I’m to save? How will I recognize it among other dollars? Will any dollar do? What happens if I save the wrong dollar, a dollar that doesn’t want to be saved, or doesn’t need saving at all, a dollar on […]
Listen — even this low, the stream above North Falls sings of abundance. . [ 1582 ]
Thyme is blooming in abundance along the Goose Lake trail; also Queen Anne’s Lace and poison hemlock. There is less chicory this year. We saw sixteen rabbits on our walk of two and a half miles, watching us and waiting in the path, until their last-second run for cover. Tansy. Blackberries. Thistles. Twice, we ran for a short distance. The volunteer cherry tomatoes at the foot of our garden space […]
Like April, and again like May, June has been a cool, cloudy, rainy month — much more so than what is considered normal, but of course normal is nothing but an average of the dry years and the wet years taken together. Last June, for a stretch of several days, we had to cover our cucumbers and dahlias with sheets to protect them from record high temperatures, which registered, at […]
Cherry blossoms — a little girl adds them to her make-believe soup. . [ 1413 ]
Every bristle in every broom, every step on every stone, Every smile and every groan, every solace and every loss, Every full and empty palm, every laugh and every dance, Every note of every song — one joy, one peace, one love. . [ 1400 ]
the sweet call to rest / the bare lilac / the mossy wall / the cedar chest December 23, 2021 . O Holy Night I do love the short days, the early closing in of the dark, the long nights beginning in the afternoon, the afternoons even earlier on the rooftops through the firs. There is so much light in everything everywhere I turn, in objects, faces, and books, the […]
William Michaelian 