A couple of months ago a resident at the nursing home I work at passed away. Death is not a surprising phenomenon when working with seniors, but it is still one that I often find difficult to process. Some days are harder than others. The resident who died, had only hours before been helping me put tomato plants in the garden. He talked proudly of his garden at home and the many years he had tilled the earth. As the tomato plants have grown, flourished, produced fruit, and are now starting to whither and die, I find myself remembering him. I remember his stories, his humour, his love for nature.

"It is not from ourselves that we learn to be better than we are"

-Wendell Berry

“The crickets sang in the grasses. They sang the song of summer’s ending, a sad, monotonous song. ‘Summer is over and gone,’ they sang. ‘Over and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying.’

“The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into fall – the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.”

- Charlotte’s Web

There is an air of magical happenstance in the air today...perhaps it's the early Autumn glow. And I feel I must write, even if I have nothing of brilliance to share. In fact, Yuri and I find ourselves in the midst of a rather exhausting, run-of-the-mill work week. Both of us are fighting some sort of head cold that simply prefers to drip and linger as opposed to leaving us be, and work demands from us our precious remaining energy. This is why, I firmly believe, we as humans, need the beauty of thought, creativity, and art, to give the world some whimsical joy just when it so desperately needs it.

In light of the crisis surrounding Syria, I leave you a slice of thoughtful art: