When the wind blows, I hear their voices.

Calling me back to the me before.

The strong me, the young me, the whole me.

The chime from my friend Mary Lynne sings of smiles and giggles.

Mrs. Robbie’s chime sings high notes of spring.

Each spring we gave each other a gift to celebrate Easter. (This chime was one.)

My cousin Mark’s chime sings of our precious grandparents and our sibling mothers.

All three sing together. Reminding me of love I had and hope I have.

Even in rain they sing. Even in darkness they harmonize.

In the worst storm they sing the loudest. Calling me through my past.

Singing me home to myself.

FLOW

I ventured out into the cold this morning because I saw this straight line of crystals across the top of this glass table. I feared a crack had formed.

When I touched the line, I discovered the crystals were not on the top of the glass. They were underneath.

There was no crack, maybe just an invisible scratch.

I am puzzled by the lovely patterns formed by the crystals.

Every day brings a new mystery!

Floe

I sat down to delete pictures from my phone today. As I was scrolling and clicking, a picture caused a pause.

We had taken snow pictures at the farm. The picture I thought was of the tracks made by the neighbors’ roaming dogs and cats triggered some memories.

“Two-toe triangle.” and “Four forward.” These are my terms for coyote tracks. I had not even considered coyote tracks, because I wasn’t looking for them.

We do have bobcats and coyotes here, so I should have looked more closely. I was busy thinking of other things as we checked for damage in the snow.

I am not surprised by the presence of coyotes at the farm. I am, however, surprised that I did not remember my track tips. Maybe I am no longer alert, now that my bunnies are gone.

FLOW slipping in the snow (mentally)