Yellow skies and a bit more work

Normally I associate the smell of a wood fire with delightful things. I have fond memories of walking home from the Quincy Center Station on cold wintery evenings when I was in High School and smelling the lovely homey smell of fireplaces warming homes along my cold walk home.

I also associate that wonderful scent of woodfires from the special bonfires at camp. Today though, we woke up to the scent of wood smoke but it wasn't something homey or celebratory but it was the sickly smoke that has been blanketing us from the forest fires in Ontario.

The air feels heavy and sickly. The light is a heavy ochre color.

It isn't quite as bad as the it was a few years ago when the sky was orange from the smoke and it felt like the end of days. I hope that these fires are soon quenched.

I have managed to get a few more miles of ribbon embroidered.

I leave you with a shot of shadow from a friend's house.

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מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for giving life to all. I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

Connecting with the past

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sarah in nyc

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