to paraphrase an old song, but there are no cuckoos to loudly sing in this cold season. And yet, I bought a frost cover for my as-yet-unplanted Earth box. I’m waiting for a warm, encouraging day to put out a few experimental seeds.
Sophie’s wonderful groomer retired, putting me in charge of her baths. She’s had one, so far. As you see, she’s in need of pruning, which I’m putting off. After all, it’s winter.
At various times, she resembles a teddy bear or a round woolly sheep or simply something very huggable.
Winter Reading
For January, my book group is reading Richard Powers’ Bewilderment. I’m only midway through the book, but the unbearable sadness of a nine-year-old boy facing head-on the enormous ongoing loss of the wild creatures of this world has driven me to begin a different book—facing a similar topic.
Life After Doom; Wisdom and Courage for a World Falling Apart, by Brian D. McLaren. I’m only into the third chapter, but in a strange way, I find it more comforting to read a book by someone who is examining how we can face the approaching collapse of the world as we know it. He ends Chapter Two with:
“We need to face what we know. And we need to face what we don’t know. Only what is faced can be changed. That is why I say, and I hope you will join me, welcome to reality.“
Maybe it is the act of my awakening to one personal grief that makes me more ready to face a grief shared by the entire globe.
Will you join me?
Kate Harrington 