Saturday, November 4, 2017

six senses saturday


  • a wee brown bat has roosted in the tiny space between the storm glass and the screen of our bedroom window.  
  • on my friday morning commute a giant amber moon set in the direction of my destination while a fluorescent pink sun rose over my home behind me.
  • autumn leaves.  evidence that this earth, this life, always offers exquisite respites from suffering.
  • having a cars moment, candy-o on repeat over here.
  • roasted brussels spouts
  • honeycrisp apples
  • whisky
  • backyard fire
  • smoke of just-extinguished candles
  • that heater-just-came-on-for-the-first-time smell
  • cushy new sweater
  • the prick of the needles during topiary shaping
  • the bat is a visitor (not sure who)
  • deep sense of settling down, time to rest, inward-bound

six senses saturday is a revival of five senses friday, a regular way to note how my senses were delighted and challenged during the week with the addition of intuition.