May 2018

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Candlelight

I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on,
The windows and the stars illumined, one by one,
The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily,
And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see
The springs, the summers, and the autumns slowly pass;
And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass,
I shall close all my shutters, pull the curtains tight,
And build me stately palaces by candlelight.

Charles Baudelaire

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Homemade kombucha in the house! That’s what’s happening to-day. Way back in our Portland days (we’ve been gone three and a half years! WOW!), we made heaps and tons of kombucha. As we didn’t feel like schlepping a SCOBY or two or three across the country to Pennsylvania, we left all means of production behind. Curiously enough, when we had our pre-move garage sale, the people who bought all the gear were getting ready to start their own brew operation. Great minds think alike, eh?

This time around, we are adding flavors, upping our game a bit. Or so I hope. I made these this morning and thusly have no clue if they will actually be worth drinking. Fingers crossed! Since my memory isn’t what it used to be, AND I bought a cool chalk board pen, I made my notes right on the bottle.

Also what’s happening – much, much planting! Over the past week, we’ve put in five trees, two shrubs, and thirty-eight plants, with about fifty more to go. I kid you not. Most of the labor done by yours truly because the hubster has been earning our bread AND busting up a hideous monstrosity of a patio, sledge hammer chain-gang style, while I dig, dig, dig. “What we have here is a failure to communicate…” Not really. We are ace communicators, the two of us, mind readers even. I just think of Cool Hand Luke at times of day-long outdoor labor is all.

Anyhoo, hopefully all will flourish and our yard won’t look so very, very brown.

Happy Friday!

How many slams in an old screen door? Depends how loud you shut it. How many slices in a bread? Depends how thin you cut it. How much good inside a day? Depends how good you live ’em. How much love inside a friend? Depends how much you give ’em.

Shel Silverstein

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Look not for refuge in anyone beside yourself.

Tibetan Saying

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