I love the sound of the rain on the skylights, and the scent of the grass afterwards.
The word from Mimi in Israel is that they are all right. I've heard nothing yet about the future of the moshav.
As I begin to prepare for the trip to Isabella Freedman for Shavuot, other things are spinning in the direction of chaos:
a friend needs a place to stay; perhaps here (must redirect to another bathroom while the toilet in the guest bath is in pieces)
this is the third day I have seen and spoken to a woman picnicking with her doggies at the park. She has moved here for a job, has not yet found an affordable place to stay with her canine family, and is living in her car in the meanwhile. The two doggies make my house, with its resident feline, untenable. (I can hear the voice of my cousin, the very savvy lawyer who knows me all my life: "Don't even think about it; this story has 'fugitive' written all over it.")
which, of the things going through my mind, shall I hone as classes for the Shavuot retreat?
and by the way, which clothes shall I bring? Remember, socks; no sandals: Lyme ticks
Philly afterwards: bring sandals
Load the bottles for drinking water into the car, to fill at Eldorado Springs tomorrow
I still have the illusion that if I put those things nergling in my mind onto a list, my mind will quieten and allow me to shift focus and rhythm to something more peaceful.