So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.
― Mary Oliver
The last day of January. As days go, it was pretty good. Iona went swimming, Eilidh read a book, Nathan had a sleepover, Warren got home early, and I had lunch with a dear friend. The sun shone. My car didn't break down. Every time I went outside I could hear the roar of the ocean.
Ordinary, spectacular, grace.
I'll take it. I'll take it and I'll run with it.