We've had another lucky week, too full of fine events to describe them all. We've walked almost every morning on the cold roads of Mystic, up some steep hills and down along the goose-and-gull-filled river, and always I've felt fuller of life during the walks. I feel like I'm growing stronger every day, getting ready for ever-longer walks with Cia, including mountain walks before long, and some long walks on our English holiday in the coming autumn.

We attended two productive meetings this week -- a small, short discussion of Quaker spirituality on Tuesday night, in the cozy meeting house library, and a rousing writing class this morning at a local senior center. I'm enjoying very much, getting to know new people -- new very good people, I must add. The folks in the writing group are full of charming stories from their long lives, and they write about them with freedom and bravery. I am totally impressed by the talent and courage in the group. The spiritual group, thought only 4 now, is a soft-spoken but strong group, one I plan to learn a lot from as the weeks pass. 

Light snow falling at 1:49 pm, but spring is listening close by.

. . . . . . . .

A poem I wrote this morning:

EVER-PRESENT KINDNESS

A Sonnet

(3/4/2016)

He sometimes feels kindness everywhere,

as if the world is made of it, as if

he can't escape from it. He feels a whiff

of kindness in each breeze, the flair

of kindness in a stranger's wave.

The steady, faithful beating of his heart

expresses kindness, as does the start

of every day. Kindness, in fact, gave

him his life at birth, and still does. A cup

of tea will carry kindness with it, and each

breath he takes with ease can teach

him of the kindness of life, and lift him up

to see what's all around him -- the gentle sway

of kindness that he knows will always stay.

* * * * *

The first blossoms of the season . . .

 A cozy, late-winter fire . . .