More than 50,000 years ago the Ancestors gave us Art, covering bulberous and fissured walls of caves and gracefully weathering rocks with images of animals they knew or imagined, along with their own handprints, some with missing digits. (Perhaps they weren't missing at all.)

Then the Ancestors gave us Philosophy, the pursuit of wisdom. From its beginning philosophy was written as poetry, whose "bright tatters of wisdom, cast / over grey welter and spume should at any rate yield / a few visions and reflections..."

In a copse of old growth trees and ingeniously twisted vines, a ring of flowers nurtures its fragrances while patiently waiting for spring. Vehicles speed past on their way to or from a questionable education, fouling the clearly articulated morning air. A couple walks past holding hands, while their dog is busy pawing at the world living in its sensitive nose.

"bright tatters of wisdom" Robert Bringhurst. From, "Herakleitos."

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At this point in my life and work, there are so many people to thank, and so much be thankful for, in this life of bee stings and honeycombs. You know who you are.