My mother Ali, second from left, and her mother, with her sister’s daughter on the right and me on the left. We two were bridesmaids at the wedding of our other girl cousin. The remaining six of us nine cousins were boys, two of whom have now also died. This is by far not my favorite picture of my mother, but it was recently shared with me and she is laughing, as she is in two of my three favorite photos of her.
Today marks twenty years since my mother died, by courageously stopping eating and drinking after years of decline from PSP. That’s one milestone. I’m grateful for a lot of milestones today. I still miss my mother. I can’t imagine how furious she’d be about this election outcome. She’d be apoplectic! (one of her favorite words)
Not a milestone, just another loaf of perfect bread and some triple cream Brie. Simple pleasures…
This morning I clipped my own toenails! It had become increasingly painful and difficult to reach my left foot before the new hip, and I’ve just now got enough mobility to reach my feet again. Without pain! That’s another milestone. I read recently that the ability to tend one’s own toenails is an indicator of health and longevity in seniors.
I drove twenty miles beyond my own driveway for the first time since before surgery, another milestone, to drop my car off at the salvage yard. Not to be junked, though it is rapidly becoming what some might call a heap, but to have its fender repaired. Deb picked up me and Wren and with her little dog we went to the Paonia River Park, a project of the Western Slope Conservation Center, to walk the trail. Another milestone! I didn’t make it very far, but I did get as far as the citizen science station to take a photograph of the river. There’s a post with a bracket where you place your phone, snap a shot of the river, and upload it to chronolog, “a platform that allows organizations and individuals to create and explore time lapse photos of natural environments.” Check out the River Park’s time lapse at the link.
Another light snow overnight settled like fairy dust on everything.
I roasted an organic chicken last week and got four meals out of one quarter of it, including a couple of delicious sandwiches.
Finishing three Liberty puzzles before the Season officially starts might count as a milestone. Ocean Life is a treasure of gorgeous sea creatures. It provided melancholy solace through this discouraging last week as the Great Unraveling accelerates. Another milestone is the resolve I feel to not let this development destroy my equilibrium. I feel brittle and fragile, but also confidently aware of a deep resilience that is new in me, a direct result of mindfulness practice.
Yesterday was a rough day. It was the third anniversary of the death of the Best Boy Ever, my precious Stellar Stardog. Oh, and also, America somehow elected a lying, traitorous, convicted felon as its next president. So things will get a lot harder next year for a lot of Americans, for people all over the planet, for all beings on Earth, and for the planet itself.
And for the oceans, too, of course. I started ‘Ocean Life’ the other day.
I was staggered to learn that 33% of eligible voters didn’t vote in this crucial election. And a third voted for the Loser, and a third voted for the woman of color. As Robert Hubbell succinctly clarifies, this was quite simply because of “racism, misogyny, and white nationalism… it’s not more complicated than that.” In a livestream this evening, he made the compassionate point that millions are unable to vote for many reasons including various iterations of simply struggling to survive. And the comforting point that many more people actually support the Democratic vision of America than the angry, divisive paradigm now rising to power. If you do not subscribe to his newsletter I cannot recommend it highly enough, especially as we step courageously into the brave new world, arms linked, standing together. He’s not quitting, and neither should we.
One delightful surprise that came my way last weekend was this epiphytic bromeliad, arriving unexpectedly from Florida. “It should enjoy life in a well lit window with occasional misting,” my friend wrote. “It comes to you from the Hurricane Helene debris in my yard, having previously lived in the large live oak hanging over the house. It is doubtless misshapen from its time in the plastic bag, but it should recover its proper shape anon. When I saw it lying in the yard, I immediately saw your name on it.” No gift could have meant more to me. The green epiphyte clings staunchly to a fragment of mossy live oak twig. I gave it a good rinse and wrapped it with a string of peppers and beads, then hung it in the west window.
Today, I’ve felt courageous and resilient. I’m not quitting either. After I led a somewhat somber, somewhat relaxing, somewhat supportive meditation in telesangha this morning, I opened a message from a friend with this quote from Rebecca Solnit:
“They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving. You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is. You can be heartbroken or furious or both at once; you can scream in your car or on a cliff; you can also get up tomorrow and water the flowerpots and call someone who’s upset and check your equipment for going onward. A lot of us are going to come under direct attack, and a lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary. Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones. People kept the faith in the dictatorships of South America in the 1970s and 1980s, in the East Bloc countries and the USSR, women are protesting right now in Iran and people there are writing poetry. There is no alternative to persevering, and that does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it’s sunny or raining. Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself, because you are interwoven with the ten trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.” Rebecca Solnit
Notice the cute seahorse whimsy piece on the left edge, making part of the seahorse image? This is about where I got to by Monday night, when I stopped puzzling to savor the sunset and then eat a decent meal.
Tuesday morning, to keep calm and grounded, I took the advice of Bill McKibben, and spent time outside savoring Nature, loving life and wild things, while I still can.
Then I puzzled some more and listened to a dharma talk, keeping calm, and after lunch I spent time in the garden, where the little blueberry bush surprised me with its beautiful red foliage. I hope it grew good strong roots this summer, and will grow big and strong next year.
As I added to this section, I realized I’d had it sideways. As so often happens, fresh perspective allowed me to build more effectively.
One of the nicer surprises to wake up to this morning was a six-inch snowfall, bringing much-needed moisture to the dry ground. A local covid case led the Bibliofillies to hold our monthly meeting via zoom this afternoon, and we were all grateful, I think, to not drive out in the snow. I was certainly grateful for this somewhat grieving, somewhat cheery gathering of fellow fillies, first to confirm our solidarity and intentions going forward, and second to engage in joyfully civil discourse between two equal factions with diametrically opposing opinions of the book, The Bear. This link to an overview on the National Endowment for the Arts website reminds me that if Project 2025 gets its way, we’ll have no more government support for any kind of arts. Oh well. It’s what America thinks it wants. Or more likely, most of those people who voted for the Biggest Loser really had no idea what he really intends to do.
We’ll know more later. Meanwhile, I’m going to continue to celebrate the arts in all the ways I love doing, and to savor, celebrate, and honor Nature; to practice right livelihood by teaching and facilitating meditation and mindfulness; and to stand together with people of compassion, kindness, integrity, and wisdom, come what may.
I’m grateful that in the last week I’ve been able to walk out into the woods with the animals, to savor the beauty of this rapidly passing autumn.
The mushroom puzzle continued apace over the last week, providing an intricate challenge. Each puzzle reveals its unique strategy as it develops, and tactics shift as fewer pieces remain to be placed. This is what makes Liberty puzzles so much fun, and so good for your brain, too!
I’ve made a point to step outside multiple times each day and walk at least down to the pond, if not up the driveway or east toward the canyon a little way. In addition to PT exercises and normal activities around the house, these short walks are beneficial for my new hip and also for my spirit, nourishing heart and mind. I’m still using the cane, limping a little, experiencing various aches and pains, and all of it is fine.
In this last week before the election, many people are stressed and anxious; I’m optimistic but no one can be certain. I’m protecting my spirit by radically limiting exposure to headlines from the failed major news outlets, who have insisted on covering this landmark election as though it were any other horse race, and not a choice between preserving the democratic republic we’ve lived with for 250 years or allowing a fascist dictator to move into the People’s House. So turning to nature often during the day, pausing to breathe, meditate, attend to the beauty of our precious earth, and practice gratitude for all that is good in each day keeps me grounded in what truly matters in this short life.
I’m grateful that I finally found my transitions glasses! In the early days of my recovery while I was still on painkillers, I wore them out one day, and put them somewhere ‘temporary’ when I came inside; somewhere I made a mental note to remember because it wasn’t their usual location. And then I forgot. I looked for them for weeks, Pamela and Kathy looked for them, over the course of the next month we looked everywhere. Last week I looked at the walker and thought, ‘I’m gonna have to give this back soon, I’d better just check that pouch to make sure I haven’t left anything in it.’ It’s not as though I hadn’t looked there for my glasses before, several times; but this time, I dug deep into the pouch, reaching beyond the fold where it hangs over a crossbar. And as my fingers touched them, I laughed. It’s amazing they didn’t smash or crack under all the other things I’d put in that pouch over the weeks.
Closing in on the puzzle, refining tactics once again…
Peace in the morning
In addition to the diabolically creative cut patterns, the beauty of the artwork delights as each cluster of mushrooms comes together, showing the substrate and the life stages of each organism.
The week goes on: mild temperatures give way to stiff winds and increasingly colder nights…
The last piece of the puzzle finds its way in…
I’ve left the puzzle up for a couple of days to savor the feeling of satisfaction in the accomplishment, to pore over the beauty, and to enjoy some time with the key identifying these jewels. What a marvelous world we live in.
This morning, our first snow on the ground at this elevation, just a dusting, after a good soaking rain yesterday. Dawn drove me to my six-week post-op appointment, where I got a gold star and got cleared to bend low enough to start a fire in the woodstove. And just in the nick of time! It was 27℉ last night, and forecast to drop to almost 20 tonight.
Wren is asking where her customary rug is? So I put down a small one that I can’t trip over just after taking this picture. We are grateful to all be tucked in for the night, grateful for our cozy home, grateful for access to wonderful healthcare from kind and competent practitioners, grateful for the adventures, the learning, the love, and the beauty we’ve experienced over the last week.
As I continue to recover well from surgery, gaining mobility and strength daily (with occasional half-steps backward) I’ve relied on Liberty puzzles for several hours a day to keep my spirits up. My new puzzle for the season is “Summer Swans,” a platter of vibrant eye candy whose whimsy soothed my soul for a few days when I could do little else. While I’m puzzling, I listen to dharma talks like the marvelous selection from Upaya Zen Center, and various other sources including Tricycle and Lion’s Roar. Thus exercising my brain with the puzzle and my practice as I listen, and getting up frequently to exercise my new hip. Many of the Upaya talks revolve around engaging with the world to improve conditions for all beings; starting, of course, with bringing the best of ourselves into each day through practicing things like generosity, ethics, patience, wisdom, compassion, and kindness.
Spending hours each day in contemplation and practice of these many facets of living mindfully, I can forget for minutes at a time that there are people in this country who see the world through completely different lenses. The three poisons of Greed, Hatred, and Delusion are surging through the veins and arteries of the American people these days like never before, under the insidious influence of a madman. What has happened to the Republican Party of my parents, my grandparents, Abraham Lincoln, hell even Ronald Reagan? What has happened to the ideal of “Duty, Honor, Country” that motivated my father and great-grandfather as graduates of West Point and career Army officers?
An old friend asked me tonight how she could talk compassionately with her sister about voting. Like an unfathomable number of women, the sister plans to vote how her husband tells her to, which in this case is most definitely not in her own interest as a woman, nor in the interest of her daughter of reproductive age. It was good timing to make me to share a couple of links that another friend sent the other day, after telling me of her stealth sticky-note plan for her road trip this weekend. She’ll be sticking post-its on women’s restroom mirrors and stall doors all the way from northern Virginia to southern Tennessee, on which she wrote short messages like, “We didn’t get the right to vote, we fought for it. Fight now!” and “Your vote is secret – he’ll never know – vote for your rights!” and simply, “Vote for your daughters – vote for Harris/Walz.”
One could add to those notes, “Vote for Nature – vote Democrat down the ballot!”
I hadn’t heard of this grassroots effort that some woman, somewhere, started a couple of months ago and many other women quickly got on board. My friend sent an article in Ms. Magazine and another on NBC describing this women-to-women movement that reminds women they can vote “freely and privately regardless of the political beliefs of their spouse or partner.” In addition to restrooms, women are putting the notes discretely on shelf items like tampon boxes. An 81-year-old woman interviewed said she is posting them everywhere “to atone for the fact that I voted for Trump in 2016.” This is just one of many grassroots people-to-people efforts that give me hope that our democracy will not fall to the fascist regime promised by the violent insurrectionist former president, and outlined in Project 2025. Read more about this proposed decimation of our rights here.
I need to confess a personal failure. I was inspired by our local Indivisible chapter zoom to take a one-hour phone bank training to get out the vote for the Democrats. I was impressed with the training, and girded my loins to do the 15-minute call session included in it. But I have been unable to rise to the moment and connect into the Anytime call center again. Each day I intend to buck up and do it, and each day comes to an end without my having done it. In a past life I sold underwriting for public radio, a cause I still deeply believe in, and if I got one harsh no, I drove home and curled up in bed for the rest of the day. I’m afraid I’m constitutionally unfit to make cold calls to engage reluctant or even hostile people in conversation even about the urgency of keeping a dangerous criminal out of the White House, despite some remarkable inspiration to do so.
But I am able to have mindful conversations with friends about ways to keep calm, stay strong, get engaged, participate in being good stewards of this fragile spinning globe we get to live on for a short time; I’m able to offer guidance to those who ask even as I continually learn how to navigate this increasingly challenging world we are passing through. There’s not much we can control. But we can control where we place our attention, how we bring our values into our thoughts, speech, and actions, and how clearly we are willing to see reality. And we can choose to practice gratitude, meet suffering with compassion wherever we encounter it, and engage in life with an open heart. Even when it’s hard, even when we can do nothing else. And we can vote for people who truly reflect the universal spiritual values taught by Jesus, Buddha, and many others; not for people who twist and distort for personal power.
I’m grateful that women and their supporters fought for the right to vote and won it barely a hundred years ago; and grateful that I got to vote this week in support of basic human rights for all Americans. I hope that you also will vote for the decent candidate for President, Kamala Harris, and not for the candidate who is the first president in US history to refuse the peaceful transfer of power, who is a convicted felon and sexual predator, and the only presidential candidate ever to openly admire Hitler. Remember, your vote is confidential and anonymous.
Here’s the long-awaited report on the century old puzzle, Ready for the Dance. As near as we can figure, these puzzles belonged originally to our great-grandmother Samuella White. The date on this one is 12-10-25. I love how the handwritten label indicates it was sawn by ‘2’. I can’t make out the initials of the person who polished and finished it, but I’m gonna guess it was a woman.
Melinda said there were around sixteen of these old puzzles when they cleared out their father’s house. Each piece of this puzzle was marked ’15’ on the back in pencil, in Samuella’s hand. Imagine her taking the time to mark every piece, in order to prevent confusion among possible stray pieces from other puzzles getting mixed up in various boxes. The lids had no pictures in those days, no point of reference, which adds a completely different element to assembly.
Naturally, the whimsy pieces are not nearly as intricate, being cut by hand, as the modern Liberty puzzles are able to do with a laser. But there are still plenty of them, and they provide a helpful anchor for starting to assemble sections.
This particular puzzle was made easier by all the faces and figures it contained, as well as wood grain patterns in the floor, and the ceiling and furniture as they emerged.
A later hand noted on the box that two pieces were missing, possibly Granny but probably Aunt Nelle. I noticed a twinge of envy when Melinda told me that she and her brothers got to play with these puzzles when they were kids, “but only when we were sick.” So what! She still got to play with them! I missed out on an important piece of my rightful childhood by being the child of the son and not the daughter: I didn’t find the one puzzle my dad inherited until after his death.
My resentment is tongue in cheek, of course. I just like to tease my cousin. But every time I couldn’t find a piece for awhile, I wondered, Is THIS the missing piece? This uncertainty also added a novel element to the assembly. Once I had most of the faces in place, I began to have confidence that the missing pieces were the face and bosom of the lovely lady the man below is leering at so enthusiastically. I immediately conjured a story in which one of Mel’s nasty brothers pocketed the fair maiden. This provided endless laughs at myself as I completed the puzzle, and accused them to their sister.
I had imagined that Liberty invented the tiny-connection strategy, but with this puzzle I could see that it’s an age-old jigsaw puzzle trick. The merest tips of two pieces can provide the link.
Another thing I love about this puzzle is the image itself. Though old and faded, it remains full of vitality and action, with genuine connection in the expressions among the dancers. Unfortunately, there’s no attribution to the artist other than a faded signature in the bottom right corner. I suspect the images were created specifically for the puzzle company in those early days.
And here’s the completed puzzle, minus the missing maiden. A few spots where the image has peeled from the wooden pieces, but otherwise in remarkably good shape, despite the manhandling of my young cousins fifty years ago. Another thing about these hands-sawn puzzles is that though the pieces fit together well, they don’t ‘hold together’ well. I could see the sawyer’s strategy in following the shapes of hats, heads, and bodies, and even cutting the puzzle into rough sections before further delineating each piece. The puzzle breaks like a golf putt along certain lines. Time after time I jostled the edge with an elbow, or Topaz jumped up on it, and the whole thing broke apart. Fortunately, it was easy to slide together again.
I’m grateful for a new year and old puzzles, and for catching up with my gratitude blog. This all happened last week, and I’ve since finished the second ancestral puzzle, more about that soon. Meanwhile, last Thursday Wren saw the vet for a followup on her eye, and got a clean bill of health: no scratches, no lesions, just her usual watery eye. We stopped at the new ice cream arcade in Hotchkiss on the way home, to reward ourselves for a good job. I’m also grateful for this new business that brightens the downtown, and serves locally made, delicious ice cream. I chose Cowboy Coffee, and Wren got the tip of the cone.
A peaceful morning coffee with potica and Salman Rushdie’s latest novel… Followed by a day with ample free time to finish the puzzle. This was actually yesterday, but nothing wrong with being grateful for yesterday. I’m grateful for today, too.
I worked the floor first, and the rest of the more colorful parts in random segments, which left the hard blue part for the end. I was a little sad to complete it while there was still an hour of jazz on the radio, but resigned myself to moving on to the next thing. Before I did, I decided to slide the puzzle up to the center of the board to get a better picture of it…
My strategy with Picasso’s Studio as I sorted pieces out of the box was to put all the mostly grey pieces in one corner, all the largely white pieces above them, and all the rest above that. I’ve started lining up all the flat edge pieces along the edge of the puzzle table and it’s more efficient than sticking them up in the top right corner as I used to do. I continue to arrange the whimsy pieces along the right side of the table, bottom to top according to genre from geometric to objects to human figures to land animals to flying creatures. And so I began to assemble this one on Sunday morning, and finished it yesterday.
One of the joys of these puzzles is finding the most improbable connections from the most subtle clues, like placing the swirling cloud over the window with just the hint of a brushstroke.
As I attempted to slide the finished puzzle it caught on the felt and buckled… puzzletastrophe!
I was able to salvage most of the assemblage with some gentle shifting. Only two pieces landed on the floor, and it wasn’t too hard to put the puzzle together again. I was grateful to get to spend some more time on it while my friends on KVNF were giving their blues show over to a rare jazz theme, including Vince Guaraldi’s pivotal album ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas.’
And then, about the time the jazz ran out, this gorgeous puzzle from a Damian Elwes painting was finished. Liberty has six artists’ studio puzzles from Elwes, and this is the fifth to join our scattered communal puzzle library after Matisse, Gauguin, Monet, and Frida Kahlo’s. They’re all as scrumptious as this one. I’m grateful to Cindy for breaking the blue barrier and buying it: Sarah and I had qualms about all that blue, but that turned out to be, on my part anyway, an unnecessary bias. This was so lovely to do. The sixth studio puzzle is Basquiat’s, which is brand new and doesn’t appeal to me at the moment. Perhaps my perspective will shift someday about that puzzle also.
Meanwhile, here are some details from Picasso’s Studio, just because they are so delightful, not even considering the whimsy pieces that make them up. You might be able to make out in this image a pair of eyes, one above the easel and one above the white table. This is a hidden layer in the puzzle, a portrait of Picasso himself revealed more clearly on the back side of the puzzle. Another stroke of genius from the Liberty Puzzlemaster.
And finally, as I began to disassemble the puzzle this afternoon, I noticed yet another precious combination of whimsy pieces, which had escaped me as they came together on the board: the guy riding a bike with a cat on the back. I’m grateful for Picasso’s Studio.
The glitter tree, another of Auntie’s cherished creations. This one will stay with me til I die. Who wants it then? The tree skirt arrived safely in Tennessee and has been installed under its tree with its new family.
I’m blessed with an abundance of visible beauty in my life. Art was important to all my women ancestors I know of and possibly some of the men. I grew up surrounded by beautiful things, many of them created by family members. We took vacations to the mountains because both my parents appreciated natural beauty: my mom painted and drew and put a sketchpad in my hands. My dad took photos and put a camera in my hands. I sometimes think I’ve made choices to surround myself with so much beauty because it’s the only thing that makes human life bearable. Without it I’d have lost my mind ages ago. I’m grateful for beauty.
I cannot imagine the mind it takes to imagine something like this...
… spray painting the pinecones, finding or making all the little baubles, flowers, bows, fans, butterflies, and glueing them all on in a seemingly random fashion yet it all working out so beautifully...
She even included little baby Jesus.
The Colonial Williamsburg nutcracker, which I gave my parents one Christmas while I was in college, temporarily bumped my own little baby Stellar out of his spot.
I’m grateful for beautiful food, and for thinking to add special touches even if I’m just serving myself. This creamy cauliflower dip is a great way to eat vegetables. So simple, so delicious. It’s like hummus but different.
And for an afternoon snack, I celebrated with the neighborhood as the Potica Fairy delivered all over the mesa! Thank you, dear neighbor, for this annual treat.
And, of course, I’m grateful for beauty in my playtime as well. This self-care Sunday I ate right, exercised, walked outside, brought in firewood, connected with loved ones, and started a new puzzle.
The precious clippers and the dozens of other adorable whimsy pieces made this, like all Liberty puzzles, a delight to assemble.
I’m grateful for this lovely puzzle that brightened the past three dark and snowy days, Indoor Summer Garden by Jenny Wheatley.
I’ve never been an oatmeal-for-breakfast person, but in my quest to eat more healthfully I decided a month ago that I’d try again, and I began to imagine a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and maple syrup. Then I started looking for the oats that I was sure were in the cupboard or pantry somewhere. Not to be hasty, I opted to keep looking for my oats rather than surrender to purchasing another canister. So I double and triple checked the cupboards, and over a couple of weeks in several installments sorted and culled the pantry. Still couldn’t find the oats, so I bought a new bag of Bob’s Red Mill organic oats. Finally I could live the dream! And honestly, it’s been every bit as satisfying as I imagined it would be. I add a tablespoon of protein powder and a teaspoon of maple syrup, and feel ever so virtuous eating oats instead of croissants for breakfast. I’m grateful for oatmeal.
I am NOT violating Puzzle Rule #1: The coffee only appears to be above the puzzle, I would never hold a beverage over a Liberty puzzle.
A quiet, snowy Saturday, sleeping late and enjoying a latté and a puzzle: I couldn’t be more grateful for these delights, and I know that it is only through the grace of my birth and the conditions that led to this moment that it is what it is. I did nearly nothing of importance today, just relaxed and enjoyed the simple pleasures of food, water, shelter, and space: the essential ingredients of any animal life.
Deconstructed cheese sandwich: smoked gouda melting on sourdough toast, avocado mayo, and a tiny fresh tomato from the sunroom vine. Wasn’t sure the proportions would work out if I spread them all on the toast at once, so I added flavors bite by bite. Because I’m grateful to have the time and ease to be able to do so.
After lunch, Wren naps in my lap.
Come ON! How fantastic is this? Garden clippers that actually ‘clip’! So grateful for the genius of the Liberty Puzzle puzzle master.
Just before dark we went for a walk. Wren was sneezing when she came back from this romp, and I thought she might have gotten a grass seed up her nose. She seemed to have sneezed it out by the time she got back to me so I didn’t worry about it. Playing this back frame by frame I could note the moment she did get a seed up her nose, and see it still sticking out at the moment the video ends. Clearly she got it out because she quit sneezing and has been fine ever since. It was so long that I’d have noticed if she hadn’t relieved herself of it. Super grateful for that!
For supper, just a snack of miso-maple toasted walnuts. So simple, so delicious. Grateful to watch the finale of the 2023 Great British Baking Show, and inspired, though I’m trying to quit.
I’m grateful for the first real snow of the season, which started last night and has continued throughout the day. We woke to a couple of inches this morning, and at bedtime tonight it’s up to five or six. So it’s been slow and easy all day. The first snow of the year always reminds me of Conrad Aiken’s short story “Silent Snow, Secret Snow,” and brings that muffled sense of peace and isolation he captured so intimately. Wren knows nothing about that story, dwelling in the moment with a snowball on the deck. Seconds after we came inside a snow shelf slid off the roof that would have buried her.
Any money I saved (and there was plenty) by not buying things I don’t need with money I don’t have was instantly offset by the new starter for the Honda. Otherwise, No-Buy November was a smashing success. I’m grateful for the mindful practice of not being a consumer for most of last month, except of groceries and an essential car repair. It’s reset my spendometer to zero and I intend to creep along at a much slower pace going forward. In fact, I’m planning on a Junk-free January, where not only do I not buy anything I don’t need including junk food, but I’ll work hard on getting rid of things I don’t need or that don’t spark joy.
Obviously, because of the joy they spark and the mental exercise, I won’t be relinquishing any Liberty puzzles. I’m grateful to have a couple of new puzzles from our Maryland satellite library, and started a lovely one today after wrapping up the week’s work.
There’s a floral theme, and I started with the easy part, the garden stool. I love, as usual, how the pieces align with the image, as in the bird piece above landing on the bird image. Another trick in this puzzle which is rare in these masterpieces, is at least one piece that fits where it doesn’t belong. I’ve seen this a few times, and know it’s an intentional mind game from the puzzle master, which adds to the delight.
Wrong piece above, and right piece below.
I’m grateful for the luxury of having more than I need, and the wisdom to recognize it. I’m grateful for the lessons of No-Buy November and the motivation to pare down and simplify.
