Light splits landscape. Friends I have not heard from in weeks awake from the winter drowsies and dial me up. Sandra in Mexico. Carole in British Colombia. Johanna down the hill wants to kayak more and paddle farther.
Obstructions, too, lift. La Tortuga (the turtle), my motorhome and primary residence for five years as I have traveled about western world, SELLS, triggering a landslide of question and possibility. A re-evaluation of home; new demarcations of love.
Sun’s return is no small matter. I may play and revel in new-felt warmth but I take seriously the landscape under new-shed light. Pay heed not to become careless in the wake of half-revealed truths. This is the care-full work that leads to spring. The slow illumination and move from darkness and long shadows.
I keep my nose to the wind; my ear to bird's call; my fingers upon my heart. Patience dances with exuberance as I sustain a lower case “t” on truth.