"When everything else has gone from my brain ... what will be left, I believe, is topology: the dreaming memory of land as it lay this way and that." Annie Dillard
This morning's news was no more disheartening or sad than any other day of the last two weeks.
It's just the accumulation of misery that's making it hard to concentrate on the golden leaves of the witch hazel tree, the last few blooms of the climbing rose.
Labels: backyard, nature, perspective
posted by Anne Cassidy at
10:07 AM
I’m a writer and editor, the author of "Parents Who Think Too Much" and a freelancer published everywhere from the "New York Times" to "Woman’s Day." I’ve been scribbling my thoughts in one tattered notebook or another for most of my life, but this blog is the first time I’ve gone public. I'm glad you've landed here, and I hope you visit often.
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