Sometimes We March

LUCY BURDETTE: Always, always, we are thinking of writing and books and food and friends and family--including you, our beloved readers. But sometimes we have to take a day off to express our feelings about democracy and our hopes for our country. And so we march. 

We march for our daughters and our granddaughters and our mothers and our sisters at heart--and our brothers and fathers and husbands, too. We march for our earth, our wild places and animals. We march for those who don't look like us but are part of our one human family. We march because our diversity is one of our country's greatest strengths. We march because we are ever hopeful that love will always trump hate. 

From Julia in Maine...

Hallie reporting from the Boston common...

Susan Hubbard in New York City...

Jenn McKinlay in Phoenix...

Lucy Burdette in Key West...

Ingrid in Seattle...

Lucy's niece in LA (crowd of 200,000)...

Hallie's daughters in DC...

...where you could also find Julia's husband Ross and The Smithie.

Lucy's sister Susan Cerulean with her husband Dr. Jeff Chanton in Tallahassee...

PS. We marched for all of you! xoxox The Jungle Red Writers and friends

And a few late entries from our friends...

Edith Maxwell in Boston...

Dana Cameron in DC...

Sandy and Sandy in DC...

Maribeth in Hartford...

On old abandoned farms

Jan: One day, I was driving to the gym a new way and I came across this farm. It's a small New England farm that's overgrown. Rumors are that it's caught in a resolution of an estate dispute.

Something about the chipping paint and overgrown fields caught me by surprise. This plain old every day farm took my breath away. I felt transported.


I know other people have felt this way standing in front of great art. But as I think I've mentioned here several times, I'm not normally a visual person. Unless I buy the audio set at the art museum to give me the story behind the paintings, I'm bored out of my mind.



But this, this was different. The beauty affected my mood. And ever since -- about a two years now, I've been driving out of my way to pass this farm whenever I can. (Even risking getting caught behind the school buses in the morning). Every time, I experience this same feeling of contentment and peace.


I still don't really understand it. It's not like I was ever a 4-H club girl, or ever lived on or anywhere near a farm. And yet, the feeling is so strong, I almost believe in deja vu.


Am I getting loony in my advanced years? A little soft? Or has anyone else ever felt this way?