Walking the Beach at Sunrise, Each Day, Six Years

                                                           the morning sky speaks

                                                            in blue-pink, soft gold and grey

                                                            stories softly shared

                                                         This January 30 marks six years of walking the beach at sunrise just about every day - in summer and winter, on 60 degree mornings and six degree  mornings, in 32 inches of snow and in soft dusted sand, taking a few pictures - except when we were somewhere away. If we were, I'd try to find water and walk there. I called the project "Each Day New Grace" and I came to find out it was so. Each day, on even the grayest, something beautiful would unfold. I started to look at nature much more closely and gained so many insights from the natural world. So often, after a churning, stormy day at the beach, or a string of them, there'd be the most still water under the prettiest sky. This year, I hope to also  jot down a haiku about a small moment observed each day at sunrise. The walks, the world outside: a daily gift.  

    How cool is happy? 

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/24/us/happy-chewbacca-video.html?_r=0

Connected

Lately I've stumbled upon all kinds of sweet things people are leaving for others. First, these painted rocks left on a beach,  encouraging folks to take one, then return with a painted rock to pass on to someone else, a collaborative kindness project of a Girl Scout troop and artists from a local art gallery. In Hartford, we walked past a church with beautifully colorful handcrafted scarves hanging on the fence out front. Each had a little tag that encouraged anyone who was cold or who knew someone who was cold to take one. And yesterday I passed two tiny "free libraries" full of books and a welcoming sign urging passersby to take something to read. It made the world seem that much warmer.