We had the most beautiful holiday weekend. I did some brooding and mournful reflections, then remembered the promise of resurrection and rebirth, and that was the feeling at this farm all weekend. We planted two lilac bushes, cleaned up the woodshed, got rid of the old tire pile and there, a new horizon, open and uplifting.

This morning, I celebrate the joy of life, standing at the crossroads of different ways in which to look at the world. A dark place or a bright place. A future filled with color and light, or fear and darkness. There is always the choice, and I choose the joy of life, grateful for each precious day, thankful for the chance at long last to love and be loved, eager to embrace the challenges of life.

To make a book, take a photo, encourage a hopeful spirit.

I worship the creative spark and am grateful to see it burning all around me, in the students in my writing workshop, in Maria, in the messages I get from the ether, and in me, my fingers, my computer and the camera. The joy of life cannot be present every minute of every day. Life intrudes too often – this morning, a dead phone, car tire problems, computer and cable issues. But it is always there to be claimed and re-claimed, and I picked it up this weekend and have it still.