--Annie Dillard
All yesterday's fog has blown away in the night on a fierce east wind, icy as the Sierra crest where it gathers its force. On last night's road, leaves rolled and scuttled across my car's path like strangely determined beings, pledging themselves to death beneath my tires. Or they suddenly swirled up ahead of me like flame. Fifty mile per hour gusts are slamming this house, shrieking and howling about the eastern wall. Dead branches are slamming into the roof. The beehives are strapped down to their platform, to keep them from blowing away. And on the eastern horizon a muscular sun is rising into a flawless sky swept clean by the gale. To me, this annual event heralds the holy days, as if the angels were sweeping away all that is old, outworn or dead in preparation for the profound renewal that is to come. May your day be blessed by the exchange of all that is stagnant for all that is fresh and vibrantly alive.
Signs of Life:
My friend Michael Mager posted this, this morning of Facebook. I hope it gives you a good laugh. It surely got my morning off to a good start!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zCIRPQ8qWc&feature=share
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