Some bright flowers are nice on a morning that is gray and damp -- much needed actually as we're in a bit of a drought. It will green the grasses a great deal. Here is a poem by Waslawa Szmborska, the Polish Nobel laureate who died this past February.
Live is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand, rise on wings;
To be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;
Or tell pain
from everything it's not;
To squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!