#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Excerpt from “Sabbaths,” by Wendell Berry

At the edge of the yard near the brook, where the trail leads into Rocky Narrows, I saw the first violets, the white violets, that come in early spring every year. It was a fun walk, with passenger on my back. Colder than I thought. Cloudy. We watched some noisy geese in the wetlands for awhile, and then they took off in flight. Home, I raked, of course. Slow progress around the house, the first raking of the season as all the ferns are coming up. Lovely to see the lilac buds and leaves have sprouted on all the saplings I planted last year. I wanted to write and do some work today, but the cold lingers, might be getting worse, and I didn’t have the mental energy of creativity and focus. I did get a few things done. But Frank was sweet: did the food shopping, put it all away, even, and made dinner, served me on the couch, from start to finish. He is like the white violet; a fresh and encouraging and hopeful and energetic, sweet surprise.