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Tagging along on a geo-caching expedition, I found myself waylaid more than once by the dead and dying flora of autumn. That's what optimism looks like this time of year around these parts. Basically it's all comes down to this: it's all so very good. I say it every day. I breathe it. I believe it. Sometimes I look back and words for what was come to me; I catch them if I can--like so many swirling leaves that rest on the earth--or let them go. They are blessings and artifacts, remnants that form the fiber of truth. I honor them and let them go.

Today's Flowers