Interlude

dancing between time

Hello Dear Readers,

This annual exuberant play of light and color and shape gets me every time.

The way hydrangeas frame a scene,

and mushrooms show up unannounced.

The way it is above, so below.

And when the wind blows, it’s a whirlwind of color

and memory of dancing last spring in a cape I had made from my grandmother’s dress.

She died fourteen years ago in September. Just as these colors were emerging then, so they do now. It makes me dizzy.

But at the center for the whirlwind, there is clarity and stillness, even as I dance between time.

As above, so below.

plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose¹

The more things change, the more they stay the same…except, perhaps, with decomposing books in a Garden Library.

The all of it fills my heart and I hope yours as well.

As always, thank you for sharing this space and your time with me. I am grateful for your companionship on this adventure filled with 13 Tons of Love.

With cheers and gratitude for you being you,

Lyn

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1. An epigram by Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr in the January 1849 issue of his journal Les Guepes (“The Wasps”). The literal translation is “the more it changes, the more it’s the same thing.”