Dogwoods in East Texas, photo by Glenda Taylor, CC.2

Our woods are full of dogwoods, all scattered here and there in the forest around us, whiteness blossoming amongst the vivid spring green of the new leaves on oaks and the rich dark needles of the pines.

I love this time of year.  I walk on the dirt road to the mailbox, looking all about me and above me, and I fairly hum with delight.

How can I not?  The earth herself is bursting forth with new life!  And I am too!  I am about to have a birthday!  I will turn eighty in a few days.  How amazing!  Alive still, and in some ways again blossoming with new hopes and dreams and plans.

How grateful I am for all the blessings I have known, for the various experiences I have been able to have, throughout this long life!  From being, at one time or another, a lobbyist in Washington DC, a high school English teacher in rural east Texas, a waitress in the Colorado mountains, an adventurer in thoughts and ideas and spirituality and mysticism, a counselor trusted with the love and care of many people’s life stories, a writer and minister, and on and on.  And most of all a mother and grandmother and lover.  Let us not forget that—being a lover of life in all its various shades and aspects.  I claim that for myself, as it seems at the core of all I have done and been.  I am truly blessed.  And grateful.  And I feel a strong need to say so.

So to all of you who are in my life, I send you my deep gratitude and love and eagerness for the days yet to come.

This posting is brief, mostly because I have been so busy getting ready for a gathering here at the retreat center, a Dances of Universal Peace Springtime Camp.  I am expecting some fifty people for what promises to be a wonderful way to start this new year of my life.

And I have been busy putting together the podcast “Spirit Dog,” below, which I hope you will find meaningful.

So, I will send you in this post only this brief “hello,” and a picture of my world, promising a more lengthy and, hopefully, more thoughtful posting next time.


Glenda Taylor