Bud is snoring loudly, sprawled out in the big dog bed. Fate just a foot away from me is curled tight in the small bed. The hum of the fridge and every so often, the muffled swish of a car on Route 22.
It’s the end of the day, I sit in the chair I blog from. The chair I draw again and again. A hunk of bread and cheese already half eaten is resting on Thomas Merton book, When The Trees Say Nothing. Next to it a glass of red wine.
I finished off the bread and cheese and open the book. I read…
“I looked at all this in great tranquility, with my soul and spirit quiet. For me landscape seems to be important for contemplation….anyway, I had no scruples about loving it.
I think of a picture I too a few days ago of the pasture, marsh, farmers fields, tree line and our neighbors, the mountains. I have contemplated this landscape so often.
It allows my eyes to reach past the horizon, gives my breath a place to flow without obstruction, and lets my mind rest.
