With Thomas, it is not really correct to call it a "walk." He dresses for the occasion, and he runs a good mile to our 1/4 mile slow. He also growls a lot.
"I like to hunt and I like pink. That's why I have a pink camo hat with ear-holes so I can hear and a flap to keep my nose warm." Seriously. She said that.
This is off the subject of beautiful evening walks with brilliant grandchildren, but I am going on with it. Over time I have received, as have all of us, I am sure, hurtful e-mails that are forwarded on to others without much thought to how destructive they are. Yes. I have big judgements about this practice.
No. A racist, mean-spirited, blah blah blah, political blah blah blah is not an appropriate use of our modern communication technology. Yes. Of course people do this all day every day.
What would happen to this world if all cynical, bitter, "realistic," negative political crapola were NOT sent anywhere? What if that urge were checked? What if we thought a moment before we pressed the send button?
Which brings me to another thought: what if the opinion of the negative message is no more important than any other message? What if my opinion is my business, no one else's. What if my opinion leads me to vote one way or another?
I do remember in my family of origin, that lively debate was encouraged. I remember that my dad insisted that I have "references" for any claims I made. Ha! What would he think of the crap that is thrown around the Internet? I used to get so irritated with him that he made me state my references (did he reference his opinions?), and I used to believe that he said that to me because he didn't want to hear what I had to say, especially when I came home from college excited about some "new" idea like "guaranteed annual income!" "That," he said, "is NOT a new idea."
There is the moon in the sky. Just like it has been for forever. Hanging there, showing the setting sun on one side of it.
Swallowtail Butterflies are fresh and new by the first of April. Larabee is a hidden valley created by the Eel River. Perhaps I have lived here since time began, a butterfly in the willows on the banks of a Northern river.