Taking Nothing for Granite

We're back to old photos this morning. Circa 1973.

The dog is Rusty, Ken's family pooch at the time.
And, yup, that's me with him.

I've just turned 16, and it's my first summer here in Cognashene. Spent one glorious week with my new boyfriend's family. And the way I like to tell the story is that I took one look at this place and said, "I gotta marry me this guy."

Which is exactly the way it happened.

One of the astonishing benefits of being as old as I am is being able to reflect back on the long things. The gifts of life that have just lasted all the way through. Relationships mostly - Ken and I will celebrate 46 years together in August - and also the places - this summer is my 51st on these rocks.

As one of my grandchildren likes to tease, "You're THAT old?!" Yes, I am. And what a grand grace it is. There is no possible monetary value that could equal all the memories, all the restorations of soul, the raising of my children and then grandchildren here, and all the ways 'my DNA is now embedded in this granite,' as one of Ken's cousins puts it.

There is a human tendency towards entitlement, I think. That, when we've been given much, we tend to 'get used to' having much, and just sort of expect it to always be there. And while this may be true of me in other dimensions, it's never been how I've felt about this place.

Everything in me is perpetually grateful for every minute here. Always.

Looks like it could be a cozy indoors-mostly kind of day. After our string of hot and sunny, I'm okay with the change in vibe. Although I do hope to get in some more scraping and sanding if the rain holds off.

Is it Friday?
Well, look at that, it is!
Wherever you are, may gratitude be the louder song of your heart.