The morning ritual has changed, the cold air greets me, crunching paper as I roll and twist it tightly for fire starters, the wood stacked atop it just so, the cold stove coming to life, impatiently I long for the promised heat... I notice how the left hand takes charge of things, it is the strong one now, it moves with more grace, it has a growing memory of what to do... the small changes each day as my new right arm returns, like a toddler it is clumsy and it tells me quickly when I have asked too much, a sharp cry in the darkness reminds me of what it can and cannot carry... watching the light change across the bay as the northern shore begins to glow from the coming sun, the changing colour speaks to me... be patient, be patient... namaste

Noticing the way the arm moves today, the position in which it can rest, the strength that was not there yesterday that has arrived this morning, looking through the north windows over the bay, noticing the stars on this cloudless morning, laughing a little at the clumsy way I grind the coffee left handed, so many new things in an old life, such opportunity to learn for this old dog, laughing and scratching as he hunts for new bones... namaste

Took those who serve.... Today I sit...A prayer of peace upon my heart… I call to mind those with whom I have served, those who preceded me and those who follow.... It is my heart’s desire that in my lifetime, the need to wage war upon each other will pass into our memories…and that in doing so your sacrifices will be truly honoured.

Rain falls gently, Slick wood a sudden shifting, Some falls are harder…

The howling storm winds have blown themselves out, the cloudless morning is still and quiet, in the east the warm glow of the sunrise peeks above the tree line, the silhouette of trees like a child’s cutout black against the rising light, the deep night blue recess across the sky... slowing down in the morning chill, noticing this beauty, I stand amazed at the breaking day... namaste

Cool air carries in the sounds of the roadway, lone cars come and go, early travelers heading to work, in the distance farm machinery rumbles to life, the harvests are in full swing, racing to beat the snow that will come soon enough... outside the window the occasional thump of an apple falling to the ground reminds me of my own timelines and urges me to continue on just now for a little longer... namaste

Patchy frost covers the ground, in the chill air my breath hangs, trees have begun their ritual show as the oranges and yellows break against the rising sun... prewinter chores occupy free time, getting things ready for the first snows that will not be long in coming, the geese call from above ‘do not waste your time, put away the long harvest, stack your wood smartly’... namaste

The wind howls across the pasture, trees bend and groan, straining to manage themselves in the gale, the house groans as the wind push against the walls, within the walls it is well, there is a softness to the peace that fills these rooms... it is like that at times, the world howls and pushes and deep within a soft peace resides... namaste

Heavy fog drapes itself across the farm, the edges of sight softened, tree line shrouded, heavy dew and wet feet as the pastures are crossed, in the grass hundreds of small webs glisten in the jewelled dew drops, so many little kingdoms dot the landscape, choosing each foot fall carefully, I pass through their land... namaste

Deep silence fills the house, there is no breeze to rustle the curtains, the birds have yet to begin their morning song, in the distance a car along the road is heard fading away... such a special feeling this deep silence, it wraps around me like a blanket, like a mother it holds me close, a feeling of protection resides within such silence... the bell sounds and the day begins... namaste