Day 492: It’s just a walk away

As I recover — and am tender* with myself, through this healing process — I continue to go outside for short walks.

Observed yesterday:




















As you can see, for the most part I was looking up. There were some interesting sights near ground level, too:


That doorway has appeared in a previous blog post, here. I’m glad to see it survived the winter, so well.


Here’s another angle on those daffodils:


I have a theory about why I took this next photo:


I think I really miss doing my therapy groups at work, where people sit around in circles.

Can you see that group, way in the distance, from another perspective?



I like the way the sign in this next shot is preparing you for another sign just up ahead (peeking out, to the right):


Okay! I have to stop now and get ready for some doctor’s appointments, for me and for this guy, too:


We think there might be something wrong with one of Harley’s ears. Let’s take a closer look:


I can’t see anything. Can you?

We’ll see what the different doctors have to say.

I’m grateful we’re all still walking around.

Thanks to those who look and listen, to doctors and walkers everywhere, and to you, especially, for dropping by today.

* In her comment in response to this recent post of mine,  Val Boyko made this helpful observation: “Perhaps it is time to let go of ‘pneumonia’ in your thoughts and words, so your body can let go of it as well. Why not choose a new word to focus on that brings you towards wellness with each breath.” Inspired by that and other words of wisdom from her, I chose the word “tender” as my focus.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , | 55 Comments

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55 thoughts on “Day 492: It’s just a walk away

  1. I can almost smell those blossoms Ann! Happy Wednesday!
    Diana xo

  2. Your pictures are beautiful

  3. What gorgeous pictures! You’ve managed to capture spring!

    • Ahhhh! Wouldn’t that be great if I could capture it and hold it, for whenever I wanted it? Actually, maybe I have! Thanks, so much, for this comment.

  4. I’m glad you’re able to get out and enjoy the spring – nature is so healing. I love the fairy door in the tree!

  5. keep looking up, said the depressed woman. Your photos lifted my chilly day. Thanks.

  6. Jim McKeever

    Beautiful photos! Looking up, indeed …

  7. Hi Ann I imagine you must have many feelings about being out from the workplace -the bustling stimulating and sometimes frustrating company of others in your professional capacities – (and my understanding of you is that you love being an engaged talented professional- you have made it clear the groups are a joy!) I appreciate your patience and gentleness with your healing process which, for this time, keeps you away from your on-the-job work and i am very glad (and proud) you have this established creative work of being a blogger, no matter what other job you have. I love you and think the spring tree portfolio on today’s blog is lovely!!! Xoxo CG


    • Much love back to you, CG, and thank you for your always deep, helpful, healing, and lovely observations.

  8. Val is so very smart! I very much enjoy her wisdom!
    Love the blooming in nature that you observed yesterday – so pretty!

  9. Something is blooming in Boston, Ann! I wish, though, that you would have put the down pictures first and the up pictures last, because then I could have commented about how after a brief downturn, things are looking up again. Beautiful photos, Ann. And I see nothing in the cat’s ear.

    • Well, that makes me feel better about Harley’s health, Mark, because I think you’re very observant.

  10. Beautiful photos. Still no sign of spring here so you’ve cheered me up as I look out at the rain. And I love the little door in the tree! 🙂

  11. Nice walk! Look up at the sky, look down at the ground, many wonders you find will abound!

    • Thanks for noticing …. and nice poem!

      • I enjoyed taking that walk with you very much. In fact, when I took my walk today, I looked down more than usual and in a patch of wild strawberries, discovered small leafy plants with tiny white daisies – I mean, tiny! I never would have noticed them otherwise. Think what I have been missing these years but not seeing them but now, think what I have to forward to in coming springs.

      • I think it took me a while before I started to notice the beauty of spring. Now, it just hits me in the eye like a big pizza pie. It’s like I CAN’T ignore it. Thanks for this comment, which I enjoyed very much.

  12. The clouds are so beautiful against the blossoms, don’t you think? (Almost tender)

  13. Wonderful photos Ann 😀

    I need to clean my cats ears often, they are old and need extra care now. Hope the best for your beauty.

  14. todessakane2013

    Beautiful, loved the blossoms and those daffodils were wonderful, but it was tiny white door that truly blessed me and made me smile. Thank you for making today a little bit more beautiful 🙂

    God bless you lots and keep up the wonderful work 🙂

  15. I am glad to see that you have been able to get out and I LOVE the spring in the air. 🙂

  16. Love the tree photos. I found myself breathing deeply as I looked at them as if I had just stepped outside.

  17. How are Harley’s ears?

    • His ears seem okay, but we might do a dose of antibiotics to cure a possible inner ear infection. The new vet was great, and Harley was as skittish and kind as ever. Thank you for asking!

  18. Don’t you wish that vets would do house calls? Some cats don’t mind going to the vet, but other cats become very stressed.

  19. The Reading Girl

    great post and pics. I especially liked the fifth pic

  20. Dear Ann. As I was reading your post I was ready to make a comment about how tender the Spring is as an awakening, letting go and being open to the unfolding new season.
    And then I came to the end and saw your reference. I am so very touched that I touched something within you that let you shift and open. Tender is a wonderful word to connect with right now 🙂
    So now I will say thank you from the bottom of my heart for your authenticity and openness and awesomeness as a vulnerable caring tender human being!
    You shared lovely photos and a lovely spirit today 🙂
    Val x
    p.s. I’m so happy that Harley is doing ok!

    • Thank you, Val, from the bottom of another heart, for all your tenderness, wisdom, and, generosity.

  21. Spring, eruption of life, such an exhilarating season. Beautiful photos, dear Ann! Good to hear that Harley “survived” the vet. I have to sedate my cat before taking her to the vet. She is extremely suspicious of anything or anyone unknown or unusual and reacts hysterically….

    • Hi, Heila! It’s always so great to see you here. Harley is very nervous and suspicious, too,and I actually found a vet who makes house calls. Harley still knew something was up, and hid before the vet got here. How DO cats do that fortune-telling thing? But everything went fine with the visit.

      • The last time I had a vet make a house call was about 12 years ago (my cat is fifteen years old). Only ONCE did he succeed in giving her a shot at our home. She never forgot ;-). The next time (about two years later) the vet came to our home my cat was out of the window, through the closed shutters in a split second!!

      • That’s a very impressive cat!

  22. On Thursday, the one year anniversary of my father’s death, I walked 20 kilometers in 11 hours. In the rain. I found geese and ducks and rush hour traffic, bridges and cyclists and a library where the books were unreadable.

    Twenty kilometers for me is like walking to the moon for another person. And in the rain there is no place to sit or to lie. So, I consider that I walked to the moon this week. I got there, a bit wet, but the rain hid my tears and my bad haircut and all the water even made my jeans look new.

    Walking. It’s a thing we can do. You take pictures when you walk. I don’t. But, look where it takes us — anywhere. Anywhere.

    I like going along with you on your walks. Your photos mean something to me, not because they are beautiful (though they often are) but because there you are looking at a cherry tree and here I am, looking at one, too, and though we’re a million footsteps apart and so, so different, still, the fact that you stopped in front of a tree and took its picture and I, on the other coast, stopped in front of a tree and imagined a picture — that means something, doesn’t it? We stand before the things that move us and we know them, we know them even though we don’t know ourselves. And in just the same way, we can know you in a way you don’t, and you can know us, too. Trees and sky, blossoms and tiny little doors: that is what we are; that, and the camera, recording.

    • And your comments: recording, illuminating, and connecting, too. Thank you for taking us along with you on this trip to the moon (with geese, ducks, traffic, bridges, cyclists, unreadable books, rain, tears, haircut, jeans, and a one-year anniversary).

  23. Pingback: Day 501: Small change | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

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