I am weeping. After spending many years of my childhood in the ballroom the description of the way in which you gently moved around its gracious space, and the way in which the light moved around you took my breath away. It is a strange miracle; the way in which living things manage to bloom amidst pain & grief. Thank you for reminding me.
Beautifully written, as always. It’s a bummer that you deal with chronic pain and it makes me sad. At the same time I am awed by your delight in what you see, feel and experience. Absolutely nailed it with the bounty of potted plants creating that space for a ramble in the garden.
That was a crazy rain day, I shook my fist at the sky and cursed but that didn't help. I certainly wasn't able to navigate the day with your grace, insight, and eye for beauty. Maybe custard and cookies would have tipped the scales though I somehow doubt that. You have superpowers.
I love this, Jill. So tender and delicate and beautiful. I, too, was amazed by the sudden brightening of weather on that last week. I wish I had custard, though. Thank you for sharing. We always want to hear. We always want to know. ❤️
Jill, you are a phenomenal human & writer 💛 I very much admire your way with words, your thoughtfulness, honesty, humour, vulnerability, kindness, your ability to shine, your sensitivity and so much more... and oh my goodness, your line - ‘I have made it to the garden today after all,’ I thought. I think that’s where I burst into tears.
I know life isn’t fair, and I’m not sure how best to describe my emotions right now, but I have tears of maybe sadness, but definitely compassion and joy and hope. I absolutely love and adore the way you let your light shine through, and are so generous about sharing that light and your travels on your paths with others. Thank you. You are grateful beyond measure, and I in-turn am grateful beyond words to have you in my life 💛
I was also awed by the green and golden light that appeared last Thursday evening, along with the rain drops dripping off the trees and plants outside.
I will now be turning some of our bowls into “bee bowls”, and forming a habit of observing nature either inside or outside, first thing in the morning and before sleeping at night. Slowing down dinner.. love that as well. I’m fairly sure there is almost nothing better than comfort food, especially when shared with someone dear.
I am not the most well read person, but this piece has moved me like no other I have read, and that’s not just menopause talking 🤗 💛🌔
I am weeping. After spending many years of my childhood in the ballroom the description of the way in which you gently moved around its gracious space, and the way in which the light moved around you took my breath away. It is a strange miracle; the way in which living things manage to bloom amidst pain & grief. Thank you for reminding me.
Beautiul, Jill! Warm, honest and sensuous!
Beautifully written, as always. It’s a bummer that you deal with chronic pain and it makes me sad. At the same time I am awed by your delight in what you see, feel and experience. Absolutely nailed it with the bounty of potted plants creating that space for a ramble in the garden.
That was a crazy rain day, I shook my fist at the sky and cursed but that didn't help. I certainly wasn't able to navigate the day with your grace, insight, and eye for beauty. Maybe custard and cookies would have tipped the scales though I somehow doubt that. You have superpowers.
Thank you for braving the vulnerability hangover and writing this,Jill. It gives me hope as I manage my own chronic stuff.
Beautiful. Everyone below said it better than I can.
I love this, Jill. So tender and delicate and beautiful. I, too, was amazed by the sudden brightening of weather on that last week. I wish I had custard, though. Thank you for sharing. We always want to hear. We always want to know. ❤️
Jill, you are a phenomenal human & writer 💛 I very much admire your way with words, your thoughtfulness, honesty, humour, vulnerability, kindness, your ability to shine, your sensitivity and so much more... and oh my goodness, your line - ‘I have made it to the garden today after all,’ I thought. I think that’s where I burst into tears.
I know life isn’t fair, and I’m not sure how best to describe my emotions right now, but I have tears of maybe sadness, but definitely compassion and joy and hope. I absolutely love and adore the way you let your light shine through, and are so generous about sharing that light and your travels on your paths with others. Thank you. You are grateful beyond measure, and I in-turn am grateful beyond words to have you in my life 💛
I was also awed by the green and golden light that appeared last Thursday evening, along with the rain drops dripping off the trees and plants outside.
I will now be turning some of our bowls into “bee bowls”, and forming a habit of observing nature either inside or outside, first thing in the morning and before sleeping at night. Slowing down dinner.. love that as well. I’m fairly sure there is almost nothing better than comfort food, especially when shared with someone dear.
I am not the most well read person, but this piece has moved me like no other I have read, and that’s not just menopause talking 🤗 💛🌔