Growing Older

Yes.

I am growing older

All that means

is that I

have found

more things 

to

Love.

163 I Love ... certain words

certain words.

for no particular reason

other than

I do.

Indigo

Melody

Birdsong

Songbird

Ceremonious

...

I don't even know

that I love them

until they present themselves

and I think,

hmmmmm ...

I love that word.

162 I Love ... the smell of fresh cut hay

It takes me back

to my childhood.

It takes me back

to the farm,

to the horses,

to my Dad.

It take me back to our kitchen;

figuring out after lunch

whether it would be 

dry enough

to bale.

I revisit

standing on the hay wagon,

grabbing

heavy, prickly bales

and pretending

that I was strong enough

to lift them easily.

I was not.

I drove the tractor instead.

But I rode on the

bumpy, noisey thing to the field

and back to the barn, 

breathing in that wonderful

summer fragrance.

The smell of the hay,

the feel of the sun;

it all comes back -

a whiff of the past.

161 I Love ... spring green

It seems to happen within

moments.

Brown.

Brown.

Brown.

Perpetual deadness

for what seems an

eternity;
then literally

springing

to life; 

not even 

before our eyes.

it's just

 not there 

one minute

and there

the next.

Bright.

Fresh.

Vibrant.

New life

green.

Even in the 

grayness

of a rainy day

it is a-light.

Forcing itself

up

through the old,

the decay.

Tender.

Fresh.

For the tiniest

fragment

of time.

160 I Love ... the Golden Hour

I love the gentleness

of the sun

as it bids farewell

to another day.

Golden

is the perfect 

name for it.

Precious.

The intensity of the day

is set aside;

the darkness of the night

has not yet arrived.

For the briefest 

moment in time

there is a perfect light

cast over the world.

Shadows are softer.

Birdsong is softer.

There is a stillness

in the transition;

a calmness,

a beauty;

a gentle light 

that is the

Golden Hour.

159 I Love ... photo books

I am glad 

to have gotten to live in a time

when creating them is so accessible.

Photos embedded on the page,

piece of cake;

not stuck in a book with little black corners

that let go;

or worse still,

that miserable cellophane

with lines of stickiness

that greedily grabbed on to your photo

forever.

When it was forced to release it,

it kept layers of the backing 

for itself.

Add some narrative.

Have some fun.

Enjoy its arrival.

And it is still at your fingertips 

to order more.

158 I Love ... knowing exactly where something is

It doesn't happen enough

in my life.

More often the thought is

'Where is ....???'

And then the search

begins.

First in my head.

Where did I stick that?

Where could I have put it?

And then the physcial search

which 

may or may not

be fruitful.

On the rare occurences

that I can go

directly and confidently

there ...

I am happy.