I just saw a flower move. I have a vase of tiger lillies and daisies on the counter across my room. I was laying on my bed just staring at the flower, not doing anything in particular, and the lily's petal just opened up. Right in front of me! I have a very mischeivious feeling about me now, like I should be suspicious of that flower and spy on it. Of course, I always knew flowers could move. . .

soon

School is getting ready to start, and I can't wait for that time to get here. But at the same time, I wish I had more time between now and then. I have a lot to finish up and get started on. Normally when I feel like this, I would just start on it, but now I sit and think about how much I have to do, and accomplish nothing. I think its the summer blues.

My english professor just informed me that part of my being able to miss every Monday for lab includes me teaching a class on Emily Dickinson in Novemeber, a thought that is both exciting and scary. It will be good for me because for a fellowship at grad school, I'll have to teach a whole entire class. But still scary.

Lots to think about, to be thankful for.

Happy Birthday, Mr. The Edge

The best

The best time to sit in traffic, is during an electrical storm at night. Being stuck on the tip top of a bridge over looking the Nashville skyline on one side, and what seems to me to be God's most excellent light display since Creation on the other, is pure bliss. Sensory details have popping up recently to form a symphony of delight for me. I've noticed things more deeply than ever before, it catches my breath now to see the lightning coming while still in a calm, bright area. It gives me chills. Drinking orange blossom iced tea, or mint iced tea, is a sensation like no other. Drinking something that tastes like it smells is like becoming a flower (only iced tea works for the flower effect, flowers should never be hot, they wilt). Last week at camp, far from any city's lights or stream of vehicles, I swam at night during a storm. (There were lots of moths swimming to, as it were, because of their reckless pursuit of {the pool} light, which is also amazing) I looked up into the falling rain to discover I was moving at light speed, or so it seemed. The wind was moving the water all about and there was a chill in the air; it was the closest I've ever been to (physically) feeling shipwrecked. These sensoric (I may have discovered a new word there) moments also happen during the most mundane of activities. Like getting into bed after a hot, humid day (the kind of day that makes my hair a perfect afro) and feeling the crisp, cool sheets and the approaching rest. And I reach to turn off the ligth, and I notice the shadows being cast on the wall and get caught up in them. I get into bed every night, but just sometimes it hits me just right and I breathe a deep sigh of contentment and thankfulness. He didn't have to make my life rich with these extra little feelings, but I think He knows me well enough to know when I need to experience His closeness in this sort of grasp-able way, even though it isn't tangible really to most. And sometimes He just indulges me.