Bridge

The youth gets together his materials to build a bridge to the moon, or, perchance, a palace or temple on the earth, and, at length, the middle-aged man concludes to build a woodshed with them.

~ Henry David Thoreau

The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference.

~ Audre Lorde

Bridge to another time

A portal is a transitionary device of sight or sound that functions as a sort of third gravitating body between the this and the that, pulling us toward itself, allowing us to bridge into the unknown from the known.

~ Roy H. Williams

So there you have it.  Some of the fun I had with one of my photos while I was busy feeling sorry for myself melting in the heat.

Up above my head

I found the cure for whining.  Sing (or at least listen to) the blues.  M and I went to Kent Stage last night to see/hear (and sometimes sing along with) Ruthie Foster.  Oh my, that woman can really sing.  Have a listen (and a look) here.  I love, love, love this song.

Rainbow up above my head

We got quite a bit of rain last night and this morning.  It came with lightning, thunder, and blustery wind.  The pond looks like it’s almost up to normal levels now.

After the first round of rain yesterday

That’s it from the Bogs for today.  Thanks for visiting.  I hope your weekend is filled with joy and wonder.

This is what it looks like at sunset after the rain has kissed the earth.

Today’s joys:  The marvelously cooler, drier air ushered in by the rain and the cold front; the green moss on the trees; the earthy smell of the rain-soaked earth; music floating throughout the house; the blue of the sky and the white of the clouds; spending the day with M; a warm shower; throwing open the doors and windows to let in the fresh, cool air.

Green moss on the locust tree

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