It's still mothers' days . . .

Friday, May 15, 2026. It's Frigg's day . . .At 7:30 a.m. forecasts for Green Country and TulseyTown indicate good thunderstorm chances before Noon. Afternoon clouds and mid 80's.

Love, running full speed downhill wearing a blindfold.

Mothering is a verb. – Sophie Strand, Make Me Good Soil, 5.12.26

One of the hardest realizations in life, and one of the most liberating, is that our mothers are neither saints nor saviors — they are just people who, however messy or painful our childhood may have been, and however complicated the adult relationship, have loved us the best way they knew how, with the cards they were dealt and the tools they had. It is a whole life’s work to accept this elemental fact, and a life’s triumph to accept it not with bitterness but with love. – Maria Popova, The Marginalian, 5.13.26.

The wisdom teachers of every tradition seem to agree that action and contemplation are interdependent....by speaking and writing about the teachings of the mystics, I am contributing just as much to peace on earth as any act of civil disobedience in which others engage. – Mirabai Starr, From the Monastery to the Marketplace, online, 5.12.26

Today is the birthdate of Madeleine Albright, born in 1937 Prague, Czechoslovakia. She was the first woman to hold the cabinet post of U.S. Secretary of State and was the U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations.

The author of The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum, was born on this day in 1856 Chittenango, New York.

Emily Dickinson died at the age of 55 on this date in 1886, Amherst.

Because I could not stop for Death –

Because I could not stop for Death

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –

The Dews drew quivering and Chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity –

– Emily Dickenson, “Because I could not stop for Death – (479)” Martha Dickinson Bianchi, 1914.