The Promise of Spring
|
Hello friends, We’re in the midst of a glorious false spring here in Portland, Oregon. Crocuses are blooming, and plum trees and daffodils are showing small buds. The air is cool and fresh, the sun shines, and yesterday, a small red finch scoped out the front porch of our 108 year old home, seeing if there’s a good spot to nest. Finches nested on our porch a couple of years in a row a few years back. Seeing that finch lifted my heart. Seeking a place to nest is a sign of hope. There is a future. There are plans to make and eggs to lay and hopefully, some chicks to be born. These days, I’m doubling down on hope. Not the pie-in-the-sky variety, but the taking-small-actions type. Social unrest and uncertainty keeps happening, but that doesn’t mean I’m not taking action today for possible good things to come. Maybe you’re in a good place this week, or maybe you’re struggling. Or maybe, like many of us, you are some combination of both. Regardless, today I wonder: What gives you hope this week? What actions are you taking, small or large, to build a nest to cradle better possibilities? I’d love to hear from you. Best wishes - Thorn Need a break? How about joining an intrepid crew of con artists and thieves finding justice for the downtrodden? My Mouse Thief novella ebooks are discounted on my website: ThornCoyleBooks.
|
T. Thorn Coyle
Hello friends, When was the last time you paused because something was so beautiful, you needed a moment? When was the last time you were emotionally moved by nature, a painting, a song, a film, a dance? And how often do you make space to welcome beauty in your life? “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” wrote Margaret Wolfe Hungerford. She was speaking of subjectivity. That each of us finds different things—objects, people, places—beautiful. But there’s more to it than simple taste or...
Hello friends, I had oral surgery last week, and now that I’m able to eat kind-of-solid-but-still-mushy food, I’m making oatmeal every morning. As a consequence, I’ve been engaging in some simple honey magic. No, I’m not harvesting my own honey. No, I’m not leaving a jar of honey out beneath the full moon. Those are two magical things to do, but my ambitions right now are simpler. All I am doing is this: Gathering some honey on a teaspoon, I drizzle the golden amber substance into the bottom...
Hello friends, A mourning dove hoo-hoos outside my window. Black capped chickadees chirp and crows call. Daffodils spring along sidewalks, and the sun peers out among grey clouds. It is the time of equinox here on planet Earth. I love equinoxes and solstices, because these are four times a year when I stop to take a larger pause. To notice the changes—subtle and large—around me. In the seasons. In the slant of sun. In the conversations of birds. In the fall of snow or leaves, or the rise of a...