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Biak spread out in the sun.

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Mr. Darcy’s kisses

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Pearl, hopping.

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Bluebirds

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The shadows of bare, winter tree limbs

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Friends

Friends who tell stories.
Grateful for every one I heard in person in the last “coming in” week.
And this one, from dear friend Diana McLellan, a wonderful poet and writer—
her book of poetry is Making Hay
in response to our blog about feeding pheasants.
She was born in England.

I used to help my grandparents pluck the ones {pheasants} we got from Sandringham for Christmas dinner. They were absolutely beautiful. Also very “high” – granddad liked his game strong, and they were hung in the pantry until they almost fell apart. They were also raddled with lead pellets – I guess the Royals and their friends were lousy shots. We had to spit out little lead balls as we ate. Amazed we weren’t all poisoned.

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Children
free to explorenature

Celebrations

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With Family

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Eating together at table,
especially in candlelight,
or outside

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Homemade Music

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And Dancing

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The Sea

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Sky

Sun

Moon

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Water

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People who grow food
without chemicals

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People who work
to change systems,
so that all on the planet
thrive
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Native people
who are still willing
to teach us