Not long ago, I eyed the tree in the front yard. Its foliage was as green as June—except for one branch. And that branch, lit up in red, stood alone. Had it changed overnight? The transformation seemed sudden, but something must have been ruminating, twisting, determining within its bark for long enough to make that kind of decision. I nodded at its conviction to stand alone in a place where there was only one way to be. What did the other branches think? Did the brilliant one even care?
This week, I surveyed the tree again, searching for that singular branch, ablaze in color and courage. But it had used its time to spread the word, to pass the flame, to ignite the passion, and to beckon others into the joy.
And they had all accepted the invitation.
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Last week, I read a story that invited me to linger. Later, I sent it to the family. Before bed, I returned to peek at it again.
Briton Alex Larenty lives on a game reserve in South Africa. One day, he discovered every time he applied a cream to cure an infection on a lion’s paws, the animal would slacken and appear to grin. Since then, he has massaged the feet of all the lions in the park on a daily basis. Thanks to the pampering, he created a bond so strong that when they see him arrive, the lions lie down, stretch out their legs, and smile.
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A house down the block has the cutest parking lot in the world. In the past, I’ve counted thirteen of these vehicles on the property, but the smaller fleet in this snapshot still drives home the point (which is pure fun.)
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Do you believe what you read? What if there's a picture with it?
PHOTO OF WOMAN ATTACKING DEFENSELESS PIT BULL GOES VIRAL
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I need a wardrobe (and skincare) change this season. I'm poking the old stuff into a garbage bag, and it's out the door. Now I want replacements. And I think I found some.
He will give you a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
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*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.