Thursday, July 31, 2008
FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL
AUGUST 1, 2002
Quite early this morning, the sound of distant thunder. It brought no more effect than the rumble of a truck far off, empty. Some haze above, some sun breaking through, some breeze. Not much is plenty when you accept it with cupped hand, thankful. Too often we clench our fists and cross our arms in resistance. If you approach life resisting life, nothing will ever be good enough for you: you set yourself up for unhappiness. Some people would have nothing to say if they could not complain. Some people are not happy unless they are unhappy.
The church in Fairwater is being re-roofed today. It's a steep roof; it will be hot work. We need steep roofs here in snow country.
Wind in the grass at Five Corners. The bobbing heads of the flowers: closed up tight against the heat, the drought.
AUGUST 1, 2002
Quite early this morning, the sound of distant thunder. It brought no more effect than the rumble of a truck far off, empty. Some haze above, some sun breaking through, some breeze. Not much is plenty when you accept it with cupped hand, thankful. Too often we clench our fists and cross our arms in resistance. If you approach life resisting life, nothing will ever be good enough for you: you set yourself up for unhappiness. Some people would have nothing to say if they could not complain. Some people are not happy unless they are unhappy.
The church in Fairwater is being re-roofed today. It's a steep roof; it will be hot work. We need steep roofs here in snow country.
Wind in the grass at Five Corners. The bobbing heads of the flowers: closed up tight against the heat, the drought.
