I was grateful for a gorgeous day today, and for the help of Good Tim in the garden. Here he’s cutting suckers from the wild plum with Wren’s help. She adores him and follows him around when he’s here like a—well, like a puppy dog.

I learned a new technique for bread scoring, where you do the decorative scoring only (wheatstalks, here) and bake for seven minutes, then you take the lid off and do the expansion score (straight lines) so the loaf can rise to its full potential, replace the lid and bake the rest of the covered time, then remove the lid as usual until done. Pretty pleased with my first attempt.

The shades are coming along, I spent hours this weekend on several panels in varying stages, and I’m happily absorbed in completing the appliqués. (I’ll iron out the wrinkles before assembly.) I’m grateful I’ve rediscovered the joy of sewing. I heard just this evening on Forrest Hanson’s ‘Being Well’ podcast that when you don’t find joy in things you used to it indicates depression.

While I was designing a trumpet flower on the lower section, little miss Topaz did her cat thing. These are impressionistic shades, not ecologically or geographically accurate, so I anchored this panel with a bunch of cypress knees, checking my memory of them against photos from an Ecosia search online. Yes, they really do look that strange and otherworldly.

I had a couple of errands to run, including swinging by the lumber yard to buy the 1×2 strips for mounting the shades, so I saved them for Farmers Market day. Paonia is an interesting town, with the strongest Blue streak in a Red county. As US politics gets ever more bizarre and divisive, I found this interesting piece on the right’s attacks on Jon Ossoff somewhat enlightening.

Wren came to town with me, and her day got very interesting. She met Huckleberry at the lumber yard. Then she heard fire engine sirens up close and personal at our next stop. Then she met Huckle at the Farmers Market, and she was so excited to see him that I think she must have spent some time with him before, at the Bad Dog Ranch where he’s a neighbor.

Today was an extra bright day for me after the rough week the world just finished. Losing Dolly Parton was the first blow. I know there are a lot of ‘good millionaires’ out there just living their lives and not being greedy; but it does seem that the wealthiest people on the planet are the hungriest ghosts. There are some notable exceptions, among them Dolly, who spent her wealth freely for humanitarian causes.

Thankfully many of the worst fires in the US West are under control or out, though fires in Washington State continue to create unhealthy air, new fires burn in California, and some fires remain in Oregon, Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico. Colorado, which kicked off the season well ahead of other states, now, blessedly, remains almost fire-free. The Guardian published this article last week about Josephine County, Oregon, which has the highest rate of deaths from wildfire smoke of any place in the country. It’s a sad testament to the obvious effects of climate chaos, and at the same time it validates my experience of our smoky days here and their effect on my breathing.

I’m thankful that the COPD that afflicts me does so only moderately, not severely, but I understand that it’s an irreversible illness that, without adequate precautions, will worsen and could eventually kill me. Oh well! This is how it is. I’m taking the precautions I know of, and always open to more helpful measures. In so many ways, I’m more fortunate than most people on the planet.

Certainly my good fortune far exceeds that of those poor people living along the Trishuli River on the border of Tibet and Nepal. A dear friend has lived in Nepal, has friends there, and has been watching developments in this climate-fueled mega-disaster closely. She shared this link to a fascinating in-depth analysis of the geological and climatological conditions that factored into the seismic ‘debris flow’ or, as some are calling it, ‘inland tsunami’, the effects of which will be felt for a long time to come. A lot of survivors I’ve seen interviewed said there’s no reason left to live: they’ve lost so much that life has no meaning anymore. Many expressed survivors’ guilt. The grief and trauma the entire remaining population of those demolished communities are suffering is almost as unfathomable as the mind-boggling catastrophe itself.

Holding tragedy and grief in my heart, holding the world and all beings in compassion, how else can I live but by appreciating all the small joys as they arise? And every day they arise one after another after another, though some days I notice only a few, and for awhile there I couldn’t see any. Today overflowed with lovely moments.

I spent more money than I should have at the market, including $20 on a pizza to support The Learning Council, a community advocacy group who offers wood-fired pizza and an organic full meal each week for any donation. I enjoyed a couple of slices at a picnic table, listening to the lovely music, before heading home.

I also bought a couple of tomatoes, some pickling cucumbers, and three skeins of yarn. I only intended to buy two. I was entranced by the colors of these hand-dyed wools last time, but I can’t wear wool, it itches. So I pondered what I could do with some, and realized that Wren can wear wool! And I call her Wrenbow, so I planned to get some rainbow wool to knit her a new sweater.

I was grateful to snag the last two skeins of the most rainbow yarn. Then I had a lovely chat with Tonya of Wooly Colorado as I perused the rest of her wares, and she pointed out “Those two are cotton, I spun them. Dyed with indigo.” Something happened. I picked one up and teared up. Emotion overcame common sense, rationalization reared its lovely head, I can wear cotton, and I bought one. Just holding it, carrying it to the car, telling someone about it on the phone later, tears and tingles kept coming. My heart is open again.