|Opie takes a stroll in the fresh snow|
I've always been an optimist, even as a little girl–not everyone has that. Blessed to have two parents who were stable and loved me, and gave me the building blocks of a good life–not everyone has that. Blessed to have health, knock on wood–not everyone has that. Graced by an imagination that allows me to share my soul's longings and light–not everyone has that.
I get to live with animals and help them and they return the favor by percolating my art and stories.
I'm not rich, so far from it, but I have a house and firewood, a loving friend in my husband.
I can walk, and move, and lift, and see.
I smell food cooking. I have food.
I have people I've never met that somehow stick with my intentions and support both my work and farm.
I have acquired new skills with age-like finally walking away from toxic people well versed in disguises.
I miss my mother, and father, but I had them to miss, and I see them in Earth messages all the time and have learned to communicate with them in a more caring way.
I have friends that lift me up. I have friends.
I have a donkey. I have four donkeys. And a horse.
My llama is standing, I found a goose, I can laugh at the ducks, a chubby pony awaits, goats run amok, pigs flop daily. I have milk to give Mr. Mosely. I have Mr. Moseley.
The wind still blows, the sea is near–I can feel it on my skin, I smell it.
I'm still here.