Foraging

The days fly.  Work.  Work is so busy right now, grinding me down with long hours and travel.  Liam.  He is moving through many transitions -- potty training (Done!), pre-school (I am so blessed and lucky to have him in his little school.), new babysitter (Because preschool schedules are apparently written for the independently wealthy, 9-2 anyone?).

We find our way.  Where do I give today and where do I take.  Where do I go fast and where do I hang on to slow.  Can I turn over the right leaf, see what is barely hidden, almost in plain site.  On the last hot sunny Wednesday morning of the season do I really have to work, or can I sit on the porch with the sun on my face and just talk.  Cook a slow lunch before I go get Liam at school.  Uncovering, if I am lucky, a little more of myself every day. And today, in the deep forest, far up the steep hill, in the mist and rain, mushrooms.

I am trying to look at the face what will be undoubtedly be a rough few months.  The anniversary of the day Will went into the hospital for the last time; came home for the last time; after that.  And then, into the second year; no more days of "the last . . .whatever it is. . .Will was alive."  We make our way ahead -- forward, choosing the best of what is all around us.  So, belated autumn blessings and welcome fall rains that bring returning salmon, early nights, and mushrooms.  I will try to be in this space more often.