Ruth and Chris let the wind have Mira's ashes at White Sands today. They left white lilies on the dunes,two stems with two fully open blossoms on each stem, and a bud. Perfect. They let the release emerge as it felt right, in the awe and solitude of the ever shifting holy ground that is White Sands. Ruth found the love to write about the whole process - and no, Ruth, it is not silly to find every detail important. The love is in the details. I am sad anew tonight. No young parents should have to find the most right way to release their baby's ashes. And the idea that the ashes of Ruth's childhood, much beloved safety blanket blow across the dunes tonight with the ashes of my hope of a new grandchild is particularly poignant. I remember wrapping Ruth in that blanket and believing I could keep her safe. I think she took it out of our house the night of the fire - didn't burn up then and neither did she - but now, grown woman, she chose to burn it with the baby neither of us could keep safe. I cry when I think of that, and it does seem right. I always say there's no safety only love - and people wince. That seems especially true in these circumstances. And love is enough.(Because we let it be.)

Locally, the boys and Bob and I worked in the yard and the garden today with real success. I've really let the yard go - have felt so helpless about it, but this year I've gotten weeds out of corners that have been weedy for seasons and the garden is thriving. The kids are so excited about that part - lovingly tend their own plants. My next step is to sweep old leaves off the patio and make it a sweet place to sit before it gets too hot to want to sit outside.

The poetry challenge was to write an apology poem.

I'm sorry I judge.
I correct grammar
I wince at profanity
and poor table manners.
I miss so much love
because of weak syntax.
I'm sorry I judge.