Flowers and plants are silent presences. They nourish every sense except the ear.
So let the world go, but hold fast to joy.
have the courage to write whatever your dream is for yourself.
I long for the bulbs to arrive, for the early autumn chores are melancholy, but the planting of bulbs is the work of hope and is always thrilling.
It is always hard to hear the buried truth from another person.
It is possible, I suppose, that we are returning to a Dark Age. What is frightening is that violence is not only represented by nations, but everywhere walks among us freely.