We are not to know why
this and that masters us;
real life makes no reply,
only that it enraptures usmakes us familiar with it
May 1924
Rainer Maria Rilke
This early morning painting in the sky dissipates before my eyes: but it has been, among other things, about making rain, the falling of which will cause innumerable life forms to rise. Fallen leaf stems and the wonders they supported are washed to the side of the road: mulched, amassed and liquified, they will feed the very earth that lately raised them to sunlight. Why? / real life makes no reply, / only that it enraptures us.
When we become familiar with this real life, it dawns on us that absolutely nothing is wasted.
wind in my wheels 🌱 
How lyric, Simon, and that image brings to mind a Constable painting….💕 xox
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Hey Lori. Thanks. We’re bordering on telepathy, I think. This morning I was contemplating feeling, precisely, as though I were walking inside the frame of a painting. Perhaps we are? All of us. Transatlantic hugs 🤗 xx
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What a lovely thought (both the telepathy and the adventure within a painting). Wouldn’t mind a bit taking a stroll within a Constable, a Turner, a Monet, heck even a Gauguin (depending on the image…😉) Hugs right back…☺️
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Oh, come and have a wander with me in Edinburgh! – it’s a veritable art gallery 😘xx
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Can only imagine! Perhaps one day…🤞☺️
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✈️🏴😀xx
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Magic!
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Mirror! So are you 😘🙏xx
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AH my friend – would that I was…but thank you xxx
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🤗😘xx
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