Linda Hoye's Blog, page 61

What Day Is It?

We’re driving home from the garden, where we put up netting for the sweet peas, when Gerry says something about going fishing tomorrow—on Saturday—and my head spins. He tries to make me believe that it’s Friday, not Thursday. I think he’s messing with me. “What day did I talk to Kristi?” I ask, seeking an

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Grounding

I must have known it at some point but the knowledge that the sun rises due east on only the spring and fall equinoxes and that now, as we approach the summer solstice it’s more northeast, faded. Watching the sun rise over the hill on the other side of the ridge this morning confuses me.

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The New “Normal”

Eyes meet over the tops of masks. A locked door. “Who are you waiting to see?” Maybe I need a secret pass phrase to enter the building. The white swan met a stout man wearing a brown fedora. Nope. That doesn’t work. I wait, until eyes I think I recognize show up at the door

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It is Good

I enjoy coffee and conversation with a friend in a coffee shop, and that little piece of the world seems almost normal. Just as I’m about to make one of my granddaughter’s discarded Disney princess barrettes part of my style, I connect with my stylist and schedule a hair appointment. I’m getting my hair cut today.

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Peace.

The world groans and I am weary under the weight of it. We are in the “in between”: the place of uncertainty where distraction tries to take us from our better work. I stand in my kitchen and look out the window, over the top of a new top-down-bottom-up blind, at a treed hilltop I’ve

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The First of June

Good morning. It’s Monday. The first day of June. If there was ever a day for a fresh start this is it. If there was ever a time when I needed a fresh start—well, I expect many of us do. It’s been a tough spring. Summer arrives this month; there’s no stopping it. And that

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Wet. Gray.

It’s wet. And gray. But there’s something about the formation of the clouds. And the shade of the green grass. Barefoot, I step out on the deck with my phone to capture the moment. This particular gray and green is for this time alone. This morning silence is manna for this moment only. A photo

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El Roi

Some things hit me like a punch in the gut and the terrible seems far bigger and louder than the beautiful. Other times, I lean in, look closely at something small and quiet and easily missed and there I find wonder that washes me in peace. I don’t subscribe to the theory that if I

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Antidote

With morning comes the weight again. The antidote. Sun sparkle on the leaves of a tender tree. Deep, variegated greens of the leaves of a mature tree nearby. Shadows on the hills across the valley. The stillness of the morning. The sky—pale blue and dusted with haze. I wish it was clear blue and sunny.

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Morning Prayer

Good morning, Lord. Thank you for the gift of this day. There’s this thing that weighs heavy. Look at the eastern sky. I don’t understand this thing . See the shades of pink and red and yellow. I’m concerned about this person and this situation. See how it changes colour. I can’t wrap my mind

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