dandelion, is a corruption of the French dent de lion

The hawk glides on the thermal with outstretched wings.  The passerines sing in the bush.  There is something about great tragedy that breathes a beauty into the world that almost seems like a revelation. Perhaps it is the urgency of time that provides a renewed intensity and makes the mundane and the quotidian, the things we take for granted, seem like gifts.   I am only here now, working in the garden, thinking about you and hoping…..

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