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Even a little bit of difference. . . .
This potholder was made by our friend Sally’s mother. She made many of them and when she left this earth, Sally gave each of us a potholder to take home. And I tell you true, every time I have used this I bring to mind Sally’s mom to wonder if she made great strides in…
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The Work Of Being More Human. . .
On being a more human being. . . When I first decided to make a small table out of a no longer used chopping block, I think the cosmic forces went into cardiac care. I remembered safe practises learned from my brothers and sons, but neglected to secure the work on the table. With…
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Life’s Connectedness is what must endure. . . . .
I wrote to Maria Wulf (fullmoonfiberart.com) for permission to share her post which drew my attention. It is such a deep pleasure for one like me to share the larger picture when our thoughts merge. There is a connection in the soul that has no word coming to mind, describing what happens when an Other…
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Always the Empty Chair. . . Times Such as These. . .
It is late. And I am an old woman. I sit here and cannot see the keys of the keyboard because I weep. I have delayed coming and writing this again which seems to be a signature poem of mine and it is not an honor I wish to claim. In differing times I took…
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Let the children tell us. . .
Do I have more minutes to finish? There was no time for answers because the little one with a dash was out of sight. In a few minutes he was back and announced, I finish. Having learned to wait while private things were finished, I waited again while he proceeded to his room. I followed…