I’m sitting on the front porch steps. Blue is happily belly in the grass. The night is quiet, other than crickets and some faraway traffic sounds. There is a light breeze. Fireflies blinking. I want to stay in this moment. I’m lingering as long as I can. [9:00pm]
July 10, 2016
Turquoise Tangles 
Nice capture of a moment, Janean … Your spare style is evident here, as in your haiku-like poetic works. It must be a fixture of your mind.
der W, It is so good to hear from you! Always. My mind is sometimes sparse, rat-a-tat-tat all business, and other times it rambles, flows and meanders. Some of my story poems go on and on, contrasted to the brevity of haiku. I am a study in contrasts. The beauty of last night’s moment bore capturing, as did this morning’s birdsong filled walk with Blue, but in the case of the later I hugged it close to myself. Hope you are up and at ’em. ~Janean
Doing reasonably well, considering how big the surgery was … the long recovery time is irksome in the extreme, and I chafe at my restricted lifestyle, so circumscribed by the limits imposed by The Bag … for one thing, it requires me to remain within striking distance of my loo, so if I go out, I’m always aware of the potential disaster lurking just out of sight. The result being that my photography is, reluctantly, being changed to subjects around the house, or very close. I’m getting used to it, though I used to get around a bit more, into the local area and scenery. My cross, I suppose it would be called by a Christian. By any name, it’s something of a trial. The idea is not to complain, as I seem to be doing now, but to adapt … Mohammed must go to the mountain, as it were.
derW, I’m thankful you continue to recover and that you could modify your venue and subject matter while still pursuing your photography. Mike had an ileostomy, a small intestine bag, after his colon resection surgery in September 2011 until a reconnection was done in January 2013. During that time he had a second surgery on his liver and received a lot of chemotherapy. He hated the bag. We were lucky in that insurance covered all ostomy supplies at 100%. I said to him many times, “I’d rather you still be here with the bag than not be here at all.” Those words are even truer now, almost three years after his death. I’m glad you’re still here too, derW. We have today. Make it a beaut!