No matter where life and love take me, I’m always grounded by crossing the Mississippi Delta toward the foothills of the Ozarks I call home. With the relentless passing of time, these trips home seem more consequential. People and land are changing; there’s much to be done in preparation for passing all of these things and memories to the next generation to value.
Windows open, a good coffee pour, biplanes buzzing in the background, good friends on the way to spend the weekend with us – this morning, there is much to be thankful for; I’m reticent about “missing” anything. Still, I do miss having four seasons, and this is the time of year when my mind wanders to (and my friends’ feeds remind me of) the almost-sudden, spectacular Seattle spring tailor-made for walks and rhododendrons.