Thursday, March 13, 2025. 18*
Last night Luna looked in trying to discern why I did not sleep. Restless at 4 we got up to praise another morning. Luna showed us a place, a tiny patch of ground in the fenced area – like an island emerging from ice. Not a big island mind you, not big enough to hold Zsolt’s four feet.
Yesterday, on the sunny end of the house some boulders threw off woolly white caps and sported rich green lichen. Only trees can be seen past the container holding things moved from Pennsylvania waiting to be sorted; snow no longer delineates the ground where those trees stand. Awakened from his winter’s sleep, the solar owl scolds any who trespass within his keep.
But the fruit of the Spirit is
love,
joy,
peace,
patience,
gentleness,
goodness,
faith,
Galatians 5:22 (MEV)
Art: LJ Austin
