When I sit in the shade of a big tree, I listen. When I try to write this blog, I talk. As I listen I hear life. The life of birds, wind in the bush, leaves crisply falling or popping in the sun. Two minutes spent silent in the wild forest is a wondrous thing, and relatively hard to imagine or manage especially with other people. Time, quietly and alone spent under a tree, wild or in a park or a yard, is rare. But doesn't it sound great?
I imagine a really big big leaf maple in the summer, a strong tall Cottonwood in fall or a Karnakian Douglas fir on a wet winter day. I just listen. Sleep is okay, I'll hear in my dreams. And think.
I think of wondrous things in this quiet time.
McBye-Bye
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Ha ha, ha. This post is awesome. Everyone who's eaten there is familiar
with the McStomach ache. Yet I ate there for more than half my life. As
kids in the...
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