BristleconePine of Bluster

It's a good day when I can think of dozens of things to do, and they all sound like a good idea. When it's not a good day, I think of dozens of things, but most of them don't sound like fun, and the ones that do seem impossible--and the ones that I really don't want to do seem imperative, yet also impossible. This was a good day--which it would have been anyway, because it's the Philosopher's birthday! A day of joy, when a remarkable person came into this world. Also quite an accomplishment for me, since I knit his bones and flesh together with magic and hard work. Today, we slept unexpectedly late, and the sun was up in a blue sky when we got up. As it turned out, I didn't get around to very many of those dozens of things, but spent a pleasant sunny morning pottering about, doing the Sparrowhawk's laundry so he wouldn't have to lug it down two flights of stairs, and putting away my own.

I went for a walk and saw buds beginning to show on the trees. I walked past the garden store and saw people going in to shop, always a hopeful sign. I walked past the nuns' buildings and saw old ladies bookin' it around the parking lot with their walkers. I saw some kids playing catch in the front yard with their dad. The neighbors who keep bees have lots of supers on their hive. I hope that means the bees had a good year and survived the winter. It makes me happy to be out and about, and to see other people busy going about their lives and taking an interest in the world. Birds are chirping and wind chimes tinkling. Hopeful clusters of daffodil shoots are coming up. The thing about my dreams from last night--healing from the inside out, living in a world of mutual kindness and satisfying work--is that those are things we could actually have if we all just dreamed hard enough.