I am grateful for lemons, ‘The New Yorker’, a new chenille sweater that cost $4.00.

I am sooo grateful that the jackhammering over on Jackson Street has stopped (after three weeks of unbearable noise).

I’m grateful for the sedum blooming all over the city.

I’m grateful that Jack isn’t limping anymore.  I’m grateful he didn’t take my hand off this morning when I tried to investigate (after carrying him partway home).

I am grateful for the coming of fall (always!) and the smell of beef stew wafting from the kitchen.

I am grateful for cell phones, gardening gloves, beads and buttons, and SILK.

I’m grateful for gardening work — even though it is difficult, dusty, and not that remunerative.

I am grateful for creative people EVERYWHERE, putting their work out for people to view on line — in particular, lately, Jude Hill‘s amazing and soulful quilts.

I am grateful for my farm share and its delivery by a friend.

I am grateful that I have the capacity for outrage (‘death panels’, the broohaha over Obama’s speech to students) and that my hair will grow back.

I am grateful for dreams, organized socks, a cleaned up study, and KenKen (the puzzle, not my husband).

But I AM  grateful for my husband (Ken).  And my boys.  And for teenagers, in general.

I’m grateful my boys don’t drive yet.

I’m grateful that a new school year has begun and things feel fresh, new, hopeful.

I’m grateful for comments and positive feedback, here and on flickr.