My heart hurts tonight.  Thank you, Notorious RBG.
Body at rest, spirit free.
We will never forget.

I get a chuckle every time I go by this mailbox. 

One of the residents has a cousin who is convinced she collects rubber duckies--the sort you put in your bathtub.  She does not collect them.  She never has collected them.  But she is accumulating them because her cousin keeps giving them to her "for your collection."

And so she distributes them where she can.  I think she has about a hundred of them in her basement.  I find this hilarious.  I do love the look of the mailbox though.

It makes me wonder how often I may make assumptions about what people want or need, without checking them out.  In this case, her cousin is simply trying to be funny and kind.

Rubber duckies, and actual/real/live waterbirds, remind me of the practice of meditation and dipping into awareness...going beneath the surface of daily life, diving under surface appearances and the attention-grabbing distractions and simply allowing ourselves to  check in with ourselves for a few moments. 

Without this, we run the risk of bobbing along on the surface of it all, at the mercy of the waves and the current.

And speaking of meditation:

Here it comes.  Right on schedule, too.  I saw a few of these beauties on the path of my morning walk.  All the trees are still looking green and lush, but this is evidence of what will be here soon enough.

The weather has turned from horribly humid to dry and cool-ish, although that won't last.  Fine with me, as I prefer it.  I don't believe summer is quite done with us yet, however.

My latest meditation course (I'm teaching) appears to be off to a good start with absolutely wonderful students, all of them Certified Zentangle® Teachers (CZTs).  I am always reminded how CZTs are some of the kindest people anywhere.  It's a pleasure to get to know this group.

I'm also aware that today is the 19th anniversary of 9/11, a nightmarish day with a nightmarish aftereffect.  A good friend lost her brother on one of the hijacked planes that day.  His family will never be the same.  May all those connected with that event continue to heal as much as possible.

It's a bit early for the following poem, but I cannot resist.  I'm having autumn thoughts today.

Song for Autumn 
by Mary Oliver

Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now

how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of the air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees, especially those with
mossy hollows, are beginning to look for

the fires that will come—six, a dozen—to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow?

The pond
stiffens and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its long blue shadows. The wind wags
its many tails. And in the evening
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.

The big:  I spotted this amazing old stove for sale in the window of a business downtown today.  Imagine having to polish this!  Holy cow.  But it's such a great example of what the workmanship of every day objects used to be like.

And the small:  I dyed ten grams of yarn this afternoon; that's hardly anything!  But I'm still working on binding my rug and don't want to end up with a large amount of yarn that I likely wouldn't use for other projects.

The thing I love about the Wooly Mason Jar Dyeing system is that it allows you to do this and reliably replicate a color.  No matter how large or small the amount.  The entire project today, start to finish, took me no more than 10 minutes, including heating in the microwave.  It's a Canadian small business and Lucy, who created and runs it, is a dyeing genius.  Thanks, Lucy!

Ooops, I forgot to include this great poetry I spotted on Facebook this morning.  I wish I could attribute this to the author but I don't know who wrote it.