Short

Ten days ago I turned 35. I am probably at least halfway through my entire life. I have so much to do. Like travel the world. Read many, many books. Write many, many books. Bring fresh drinking water to a country or two. Run a marathon. Get a grown-up job. Hang a hammock on our front porch. Worm the horses. Climb a tree in a rainforest. Gaze at an iceberg before they all disappear. Life is short and I have tall plans. I have pages and pages to turn before seventy. Really, though, at the end of my life, as long as I have loved well and laughed easily whenever the opportunity presented itself, I will feel like a success, I will probably be content to make a graceful exit.
~a


Not much is short around here, we have tall husbands and tall sons. Limbs and legs stretching on towards forever, growing seemingly overnight like that once-rumored-to-have-been beanstalk. There are, however, occasional flare-ups of short tempers, attention spans and sightedness - but they are blessedly short-lived. Here in Vermont weather can often be the source of aggravation. It snowed several times last week, proving that Spring, like creative inspiration, can be elusive. It must be savored and enjoyed at every possible moment, for neither is long lasting. This time of year always reminds me of our dear friends Frog and Toad. When looking to locate spring, it always seems to be just around the corner.
~b