Our morning routine is that we usually sit outside at the table next to the pool. I drink coffee. Judy drinks hot water. And we watch the birds as they land at the sunflower feeders. It's nearly a ritual every morning. We have received twice the amount of normal rainfall during July. So our yard is green. The trees that surround our home are green. So it shouldn't have been a surprise to see several toadstools glistening in the early morning dew.

Only photographers retrieve plastic sheeting and a towel to lie on the grass and creep close enough with a macro lens and experiment with different lens settings to get a photo like the one above. Seeing is fun!

The epistle lesson for today is Ephesians 4:1-16.

Frederick Buechner from Wishful Thinking.

"God was making a body for Christ, Paul said. Christ didn't have a regular body any more so God was making him one out of anybody he could find who looked as if he might just possibly do. He was using other people's hands to be Christ's hands and other people's feet to be Christ's feet, and when there was some place where Christ was needed in a hurry and needed bad, he put the finger on some maybe-not-all-that-innocent bystander and got him to go and be Christ in that place himself for lack of anybody better."

It's been nearly six months since my last blog post. I'm resuming the blog today, although I do not know if I will return to the daily pattern of the previous year. Nevertheless, here we go!

I took this photo on the morning of May 28. What attracted me was the detail of the blossom falling apart. It was the same day that my mother began the last week of her life. And although she was not a celebrity (as most of us are not), and her life was unremarkable by most measures, she gave her all. Just as this Magnolia blossom, one of millions or billions, bloomed and spilled out its all in the moment.

Much has happened these past six months for me to grow in my appreciation of life, and family, and friends, and faith. It has been good.

Valentine's Day: greeting cards, candy, and flowers are the tangible symbols of the day. I recall the decorated shoeboxes that we had in the elementary grades to receive our valentines from our classmates. And I remember trying to decide which one would get the various cards: a few special ones for a few special girls and not too mushy for the boys. But we gave cards to everyone, an early lesson in caring for every person equally. And then as we matured, it became a romantic holiday with gifts for a select person.

Originally, St. Valentine's Day recalled the martyrdom of one of three Valentines, each of whom sacrificed his life in the service of Christ for the benefit of others. So in some ways, giving tokens to everyone equally may come closer to the original observance. I'd rather celebrate the presence and power of love than so many other things that call for our attention these days.

This heart was carved on a rock in Minnesota, near the Mississippi River.

I watched this snowy egret for a long time. He had caught a small fish. I guess it wasn't that small as the fish seemed too big to swallow whole. But the egret was not about to give up on this meal. He would thrash his bill around in the water. He would change the position of the fish in his bill. First, it would be on one side, and then the other. He would just about be ready to swallow it, and then he would dip it down into the water again. This cycle was repeated over and over. I gave up. I don't know if he ever swallowed it. And after all, I prefer my fish cooked.

I don't know where else, but it used to be (in the good old days) that Abraham Lincoln's birthday was a holiday in Indiana and Illinois. The kids got a school holiday in the midst of winter: a day to go sledding, or to get ready for Valentine's Day. We memorized the Gettysburg Address and studied the Emancipation Proclamation and saw his profile on every penny. Our nation's history seemed to hinge on the Lincoln presidency. He refused to let the Union be destroyed.

This house is Lincoln's home in Springfield, Illinois and has been designated as a national park. Two blocks in central Springfield have retained their historic character. One can almost imagine the time of Lincoln.

Now all of the Presidents are honored on the third Monday of February. The kids get out of school. The banks are closed. But all of the rest of us go about our business and don't remember.

We went to Pere Marquette Park on my birthday. As sunset approached the sky was clear, and then it seemed like all of sudden a bank of clouds appeared that could make for an interesting photo. As things progressed, it was apparent the sunset wouldn't be memorable. And then this young couple walked up to this structure at the edge of the river and began to climb the metal stairway. This might be more interesting. And include the bare tree. Well, I wish the sky was more spectacular. Hmmm, I may try some "creative" adjustments when I get back home.

I do not know the story, but I am intrigued. These are the columns of the old post office in downtown Fort Myers, Florida. They appear to be made of coral with countless fossils of long departed sea life. How many centuries did it take to create this kind of substance that could be carved into columns? I just stare and wonder.