Wednesday, June 19, 2002

Now I Understand

Once again the sunlight streamed into my room waking me from a dream which ended with Barbara sniffing the shirt-sleave of an old flame. I think it was punishment for my sin of neglect in not recognizing who or what the Google searcher was seeking.

To the searcher of "Wilker-Frey Moment," what you seek can be found at "In This Moment."

Tuesday, June 18, 2002

"This Wilker-Frey Moment Has Been Brought To You By..."

It's the oddest thing. Somebody, somewhere accessed Gathered Into One by doing a Google search for "Wilker-Frey, Moment." What possible relationship is there between our last name and the word 'moment?'

Who are you? Why have you searched thus?

I suppose I'll never know.

What other interesting search-engine queries have led to your blogs?
A Good Morning

The sun shone brightly through the boys room, across the hall, and into my room waking me from a deep sleep. I just assumed it had to be 8:30 AM or later. I wondered if I had allowed myself enough time to do the things that 'should' be done this morning and still have enough time to play a little music or do some reading. Rolling over, I was quite astounded to read '6:07' on the clock. I must have been mistaken. With the clock sitting a foot lower than the bed, sometimes a line on the digital display can be hidden. An 8 can appear to be 3. At a quick glance, a 5 can be mistaken for a 6, and so on. I forced my body to lean over a little more, but I was not mistaken; it was indeed 6:07 - and yet, I was clearly wide awake.

"What would a real morning person do," I wondered, "with a couple of extra hours to spend." And then the bright sunshine gave me a clue; the garden!

We've had pretty steady rain and cool temperatures for the better part of a week now. There hasn't been much gardening happening. But this morning was my chance and, for some reason, I took it.

The walk to the church where our community-garden plot is situated was cool but invigorating. I quite enjoyed getting my hands dirty in the moist soil as I pulled out any plant that didn't seem to have been sown in a straight line. (Does anyone know what spinach seedlings look like?) I weeded and dug for two hours until our garden resembled a miniature version of Rabbit's (of Winie-the-Pooh fame) cherished beds.

The walk home included a stop at the home of a parishoner who is recovering from some surgergy. She didn't even seem to mind my torn and muddied blue jeans or the dirt caked under my fingernails.

It's been a good morning. Now, how might I become a 'real' morning person everyday?