May he rest in peace

We buried Jack's ashes in the marigold garden and used the glass flower from Eureka Springs as his marker. I burned a tea-light candle  on the flower and the space was sacred to me because of memory -- Jack.  We share this, this living and dying. The term "share" is becoming the word of the decade where everything you experience has the option to "share" with others. We are all in the universal mix of something bigger then ourselves and it is here that we live and move and have our being. We may try for solitude but cannot hide from community. We are rarely just me. It took loosing Jack to show me the connection of all more closely.

My Mother's Day present was a real surprise -- a huge stone Buddha -- now sitting by the tiny pergola pond. It is quite fabulous -- adding the remembrance of peace to our lives. Jack and Buddha share our backyard place -- both communicating with a part of us beyond the 5 senses. This place beyond wafts in the light of Jack's candle. This place immediate is the image of meditation that sits in our hearts -- a depth of understanding we cannot put into words, cannot say --

Come! the sun

Redwood tree behind birdbath

Come! after dark days of April May Today, the sun of partly cloudy streams as strips of light on the gray cedar deck the day after we planted Miss Grace Dawn Redwood behind the birdbath, in the rain, and I forgot Jack! How did it happen to forget my heart's sorrow on the day set to spread his fine black ashes amongst the new garden--the tree, a real but miniature Redwood was a good but not perfect place to release Jack from the lovely mahogany box labeled "Pet Cremation Center." Now, I see a new and real perfect resting place for my old restless friend--today's sun pointed to the mural on the garage wall which flashed down to the soon to be planted marigold garden--scores of orange yellow and red, sturdy dirt scented flowers will bob and weave with the hot summer breeze--and Jack will be there. What does it matter? this serious thought given to a cat's ashes? At times when tears fill my eyes like water overflowing the birdbath, and a sensation attaches to my heart a connection--it matters.

Jack the Cat

I write and Jack watches over me.

How beautiful life is that someone in the world could miss the presence and mourn the absence of one scrawny small black and white cat. Life is indeed precious. I cry into the sky and something good hears me and knows that even here on Walnut Street a cat is missed mightily. Love goes deep whenever it is realized and always imbeds the assurance of hurt. Even so the love remains as the object of that love melts away. I miss Jack.

No moment today

No moment today can hide the sorrow of yesterday's shootings in Aurora, Colorado. The beauty of nature is always present in the beginnings of each day but the tragedy is here, also. The only way for me to cope with the fact of so much pain is to invite the anguish to sit with me for a while. I cannot push away the fact of it but I can put my arm around it and bring it into my life here in the garden. All the mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and strangers with no one to know. In this small way I know you.

Strong Roots

Dr. Turley is dying two houses down in the home in which he and June raised 4 children. They planted the Oak tree 60 years ago and today it takes up their driveway with its wide strong trunk and branches that shade 4 houses around theirs. I brought them, John and June, some flowers from our wildflower garden---my precious purple onions, two orange day lilies and an outstanding Missouri purple coneflower. I think of them throughout the morning as they follow what is and join with them in a journey that holds common for all.