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Off the grid …

For the next four days, I’ll be cozied up in a quiet cabin with T and a few special friends.

While it may be a little quiet around here for the time being, know that I’ll be scribbling, shooting and contemplating, with hopefully lots of joyful moments to share on the other side.

   
Happy weekend, friends! Wishing you warmth and peace today. ‚̧

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Quiet Grace at my Window: Day Ten

(Sometimes it’s tough to feel at home in your own city.¬†¬†Which is why I’ve given myself a challenge: ¬†each day, for forty days, I’m going to find *one* thing I love about this place. ¬†And then I’m going to tell you about it. ¬†If you want to follow my journey, start¬†here.¬†¬†Today is Day Ten.)¬†

This time of year, it’s impossible *not* to be grateful for the one thing everyone loves about Southwestern Virginia. ¬†And that would be the leaves.

It’s Peak Foliage Week here in the Star City, when tourists travel¬†from all over the place to stay in bed-and-breakfasts, drive convertibles¬†down the Blue Ridge Parkway, and flock to local wineries and hiking trails. ¬†They come with eyes hungry for red and yellow and plum-purple, maroon, chocolate, chartreuse.

As for me? ¬†I don’t even have to leave my house to enjoy the sights. ¬†Here’s the view I see when I stand at at my dining room table. ¬†Nothing¬†fancy here — just quiet, unassuming loveliness on a cloudy afternoon…

window

I am grateful.

 

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Too Many Good Gifts to Pick Just One: Day Five

(Sometimes it’s tough to feel at home in your own city.¬†¬†Which is why I’ve given myself a challenge: ¬†each day, for forty days, I’m going to find *one* thing I love about this place. ¬†And then I’m going to tell you about it. ¬†If you want to follow my journey, start¬†here.¬†¬†Today is Day Five.)¬†

Today, the Star City gave me much to be grateful for:

I got up early, when the light was very yellow and hard-angled and my breath came out in clouds, and I went to the Grandin Village Farmer’s Market. ¬†Left loaded down with good gifts.

In the afternoon, my husband and my friend and I hiked up a mountainside past Eagle Rock, and we talked about art and God and how it is that great trees can grow out of sheeny gray rock, seemingly without any soil at all.  How they lean without falling.  How they put down roots in hard places.

And I came home, to my snug little house¬†on a tree-lined city street, and I walked the dog in the thickening dark, and I listened to the way the wind rattled the dry leaves in the tops of the trees, and I realized that winter is coming,¬†but¬†it isn’t here yet. It isn’t here yet. ¬†And my, that’s a comfort.

And I wanted to pick the very best one of these things and really tell you about it — maybe about my favorite Ethiopian Yirgacheffe from Red Rooster, or¬†about the¬†wood mushrooms I found and the recipe I have planned for them, or¬†about the children at the end of the street¬†who have spent all this week shrieking and hollering in the russet light,¬†scuffling around in piles of bright-gold maple leaves, throwing a football back and forth.

I meant to tell you about just one of these things, in words that would capture it properly.  I meant to take photographs and tell stories, make the whole thing sing.

But the whole wash of it overwhelmed me. ¬†And so instead, for now, I’ll speak only this:

I am so grateful.

I am so grateful.

I am so grateful.

 

 

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