A Wabi Sabi Kind of Day

I realized yesterday how very Wabi Sabi our patio is—from the funky wooden sliding doors that hide the washer and dryer to the weathered shingles of the house to the little stone table with a surface blessed with lichens and the tiny flowers dropping from the olive tree and leaf shadow and then my favorite now-chipped coffee mug.  And then the favorite pink dish towel that is in rags but I used lovingly to rub a little oil into the tired green surface of my old bistro table (in better shape than its chairs, though those are complemented by the old flowered pillows I made one year two residences back).

It was a day of studying the sun and where it fell—and didn’t; a day of birdsong and squirrelfeet and goatcropping of grass beyond the fence.  A day of slow moving, deep centering, light gathering.

My very favorite sort.

images:  Christie B. Cochrell, Wabi Sabi I and II