Summer has begun tentatively…ever so gently. The fragile pink and white blossoms of the Japanese willow engulfing the porch railing, spread upward and outward and everywhere the wind blows and the rake pulls.

Someone tells me we need to trim them back and down…’don’t let the willow roots get too deeply embedded beneath the house’…a forewarning of years to come, bills to pay, crops to uproot…

For now, I wish to sit quietly on the porch, to experience being surrounded and buried in pink…let the roots grow deeply…let the wind spread the delicate pale rose petals…there is enough in the world no longer deep, enough wind spreading the indelicate…

The most astonishing thing is the awareness of that weird moment when one interacts with someone who has no sense of humor.

A curtain drops.

The person’s energy is cloaked in ‘oughtness’, stopping directly and suddenly up against and behind an impenetrable wall.

It happens every once in a great while, this weird moment.

Whosoever chooses or can’t see the absurdity of so much of it all…