Last night a treasured  friend sent a photo of the first snow last night, and then this morning a photo of her dog in front of the fire.

Memories harvest in my chest.

In December 2017, our family gathered in CT because we knew my brother was dying, and yet, when we saw him, he seemed blooming and healthy, thin, yes, and easily fatigued, but up and dressed.  It was the first snow of the season and we Californians were out in the snow taking pictures of ourselves shoveling this delightful gift from on high.

We kept the fire going day and night, talked and talked, ate and ate, and played games, and even now tears come with memories.  A fire burns through me, a fire of harvest to warm this beautiful life I’ve lived and still live.

I continue to study Sensory Awareness.  As my breathing is, so am I.  My heart is touched with the exploration of breath, the knowing this air I breathe is given to me by plants and trees, and so we hold limbs in sharing memories and seasons, present treasured, rooted, and lifted with the still living treasures of the past.  

I give thanks.