Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding

Looking out over the field behind my house today, pondering the future and reflecting on the past – it’s the little things that count… the laugh and squeal of my grandson Connor as he runs through the house with his puppy chasing him…. Wyatt and Chance playing on line and fussing at each other….not that Chance can do much fussing after the dentist yesterday and 6 teeth gone. Taylor and Cathey…. well that’s another story.

Some days I would like to be in the middle of 100 acres in a log cabin so far back that you’d have to pipe sunshine in….just not today.

I am brought back to my childhood when we lived on Tunnel Hill in Park City and the memories of hearing Daddy and Cleon Turner talking about caving and everything else. Every time I cook sweet potatoes I can hear Mr. Turner asking Daddy if we rolled them before we cooked them. They used to sit and talk about stuff for hours. It’s funny, the things that stick in your mind.

Thinking reminds me of a line from the poem “The Way It Is” by William Stafford…

….Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding


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