“Drops”
As in “The Ball Drops.”

Grandson Gabriel loving his high school basketball career. He’s a sophomore.
****************************
With B Balls often Dropping …

G plays tonight in the championship game of an area holiday tournament.
As in “The Ball Drops.”

Grandson Gabriel loving his high school basketball career. He’s a sophomore.
****************************
With B Balls often Dropping …

G plays tonight in the championship game of an area holiday tournament.
My weekly gratitude journal, of sorts.
1. The amazingly resilient beauty of Savannah’s Resurrection Fern.

The green plant growing on the live oak tree behind me, Pleopeltis polypodioides, commonly known as Resurrection Fern, is “a native plant known for its ability to survive extreme dehydration and revive when exposed to water. Appearance and behavior: During dry periods, the fern shrivels and turns brown, resembling a dead clump of leaves. It can lose up to 97% of its water content, while most plants can only tolerate a 10% loss.”

“When it rains, the fern uncurls and turns green within hours.” National Wildlife Federation

(I need a little of what it has!)
2. Recognizing that two out of three isn’t bad.
3. Going on a fascinating Savannah Port Tour this week.

Savannah has one of the busiest ports in the nation. We live a few blocks from the Savannah River, walk along it often but have never toured the port.
Fascinating!







There’s also a massive yacht repair facility …


What a fun couple of hours.

4. The joy of simple, delicious food.

I love being able to pull my grandmother’s large cast iron skillet off our cool, little rack …

… and toss in a couple of seasoned chicken thighs, along with whatever vegetables are on hand (cherry tomatoes, carrots and onions this time).


5. The truth of this little placard outside a business on a recent morning walk here in Savannah.


Whatever your definition of “good” may be, may you have it this day … and this weekend.
Grandson Gabriel in a recent tournament down in Florida …
(G does not get that skill from me, in case you were wondering.)



I can’t remember the last time I actually jumped.
Can you? 
And at 72, why would I jump?
Maybe a teeny, tiny “jump” when HR sneaks up behind and tickles me. But that hardly qualifies as a legitimate jump, does it?
Grandson Gabriel participated in a basketball tournament up in Atlanta this weekend.
He’s a great jumper.


Perhaps I could learn a lesson or two from G.

I set forth an intention to look for ways to jump this coming week.
Join me?
“Heights”

