nightly report: i lay on my deck at dusk. for twenty minutes i let the wind play around my toes and arms and hair ... or rather, it let me sit in on it's fun. i'll spare you my incessant chatter about all this; but i invite you to go outdoors yourself this evening, and you'll know why it is an absolute compulsion to write about it. lovely to savour all for myself, but its something that brings more contentment when shared with someone else. all i could do was whisper prayers ... and they became very alive. real, pulsating meanings.



undeniably, i have what they call spring fever.