Friday, March 21, 2014
(putting my rudimentary pottery skills to work)
That sound I hear overhead is the sound the roofers fixing the roof that has sat miserably broken since November, letting winter weather in.
(Oh, I cherish these new contractors, who arrived precisely when they said they would and speak of multi-year guarantees.)
That sound I hear at my feet is the sound of seeds waking and cracking.
We have come through darkness together. We have sun within reach. It is our responsibility to take much better care of our besieged planet so that we may, years hence, welcome a perpetuity of Springs.
My prayer: that the harsh winter taught us all something, that it forced us to pay better attention to the resources we love, need, depend on, tax.