. . . Still I think I know
What it is like to live
In an alien and gigantic universe, a stranger,
Building the fragile citadels of love
On the edge of danger.

-James L. Rosenberg, Excerpt from “The Wasp’s Nest”

A strange disruptive day to wake into, momentous in its news of turmoil in our government. I learn the news in the middle of the night when I wake and cannot get back to sleep and prowl the news. The windows are open, the air is still, the moon is full and all the norms are broken and the trouble of the country continues to grow. Outside, all is calm and bright in the warm morning. The trees turn. The colors deepen, sharpen, the pine needles rust and drop and carpet the driveway. More clouds than sun. We walk into this new day by the gorgeous river, giving thanks. My mind is a bit mushy. I let it be so. I take a swim today, but not in the pond. I lead my webinar for How Pictures Heal course, and the writing and sharing are quite nourishing. My friend brings her puppy to the yard for a visit in the late afternoon, but Charlie snubs him and goes indoors. My friend and I stand outdoors in the yard safely distant and wearing our masks. I am in my sandals on the damp grass and I feel the chill when I go indoors and need a fire to warm me up, which is cozy. A hornet’s nest is quite an amazing structure, made of wood pulp and saliva. Only one entrance. Which probably makes perfect sense for hornets. But how I would hate to live in a home with only one way and and one way out. I live in a house of many windows and doors, entrances and exits. And I am fortunate, too, not to have to build a brand new hive to live in every year. This one will be gone, soon, in November wind and rain.