Just a lovely post!
My hands smell of soil, they are stained and scratched, dirt embedded under my fingernails. I like to call it a gardener’s manicure. I usually hate anything under my nails, sand grates and teases me terribly, but not mud. Not the evidence of a job well done.
I am quiet now. After a week of movement and connections and epiphanies (Blog about that Here: Finding my Voice), I am back home, and pottering. Today was my perfect day (Blog Post Here: A Perfect Day).
I am riding the wave of recovery. First came the hyper-alertness, then came the exhaustion, and now comes the silence. I don’t have words for you. Not because I’m shut down, but because I’m content in my silence, and if I work with it I will find a happier voice on the other side.
I have watched a money-spider skitter and tumble…
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