Every New Year Has a Cloudy Lining

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Since Christmas I have focussed almost all my time examining thousands of my possessions – taking pains with each one – and saying good bye to as many as I can stand.  And lest you suspect “thousands” of being an exaggeration, just remember this…I like paper.  Paper and books.

The idea is  to cut my expenses by moving in with a roommate.  It would be great if that part of the plan works.  Chances are high that I am trading away the sweetest home I ever needed for uncertainties and disappointments. But I think I am just tired of feeling stuck, and so onward I race, flying pell mell over the cliff, Thelma and Louise all rolled into one caffeine-fuelled, menopausal package.

Anyway, extracting the truly  precious possessions from the momentarily dazzling has engaged my emotional energy beyond the point where enough is remains for writing and picturing.  This image is left over from early spring at Olbrich Gardens, looking up into the trees that sheltered our bench – Mom’s and mine.  Its a souvenir from a place where I could  tell myself, “I did not see that coming.”

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