Outside watering, I pluck golden plums from the tree and, like the birds and squirrels, I feast.  The plums are small, bite-size, and come in abundance each year. I water the wind chimes of which I have many and consider support and how I receive the early morning light as it moves, a dance of shadow and brilliance, exchange and touch, with garden, earth, and me.

In My Garden

Sweet Plums

Gentle Spirits in Support

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