YouTube video by Democracy Docket

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This was the fourth week of videos from the 250 to 250 Project that we’re producing to honor the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

Today provided a fantastic morning for getting away from screens and the indoors. Perfect day for bicycling Bicycling has been a challenge around here lately because we had a major flooding event a couple of weeks ago that decimated many area trails. However, our hardworking Parks and Rec employees have performed amazing feats of restoration on some sections already. Not all, though.

This morning, the spouse and I rode our bicycles out to where the MKT Trail and Katy Trail meet, otherwise known as Hindman Junction, after a former mayor who played a large role in getting the trails system developed. I had been considering turning around at an earlier point, but the bench I had in mind was occupied. We did stop there for a couple of minutes because one of the two occupants was a coworker of mine.

The older I get, the more I could turn this blog into an obituary column. Yesterday, I drove a four-hour round trip for the funeral of my sister, who passed away unexpectedly a couple of weeks ago. She was 12 and 1/2 years older and often took care of me. When I was sad, she would put her arms around me and sing the song "Big Girls Don't Cry." Or at least parts of it.

I have heard from both of my kids on Mother's Day, one from halfway across the country and the other from the next room. I've also exchanged greetings with other mothers I know because we lift each other up. I'm so fortunate to have that. The spouse and I took a bike ride this morning. Mother Nature supplied amazing weather plus a field full of buttercups.

Starting the first walk After a solid week of gray skies and rain, the sun came out today. My son agreed to explore a new-to-us walking trail in the area. The Philips Lake Trail seems fairly new, and looks as if it was put in as an amenity to nearby businesses and apartment complexes. You don't feel like you're out in the country, but it is a nicely built walking path.

I feel like I can't write anything these days without acknowledging what heavy times we are experiencing. But when things are most bleak is when we most need to look for little joys. Surprise! This morning I began decluttering what is supposed to be our sunroom but has slowly turned into storage, and I came across several clay objects my children created in the wayback years.

"Though she be but little she is fierce." Shakespeare, foreshadowing my Aunt Faye. As we age, loss becomes more common, but never familiar. It feels new every time. My parents' generation has been dropping off, one by one, and there are few left. My mother and father each had three sisters. When I was young, I didn't realize how fortunate I was to have so many aunts in my life, each one of them a standout in her own way.

After a loooong stretch of bitter cold here, the snow has finally melted. But February still seems like a good time to share this poem I wrote several years ago. Snow spire. Monument A monumentto winter, the jagged snow fort, walls as tallas the eight-year-old who sculpted the blockslifting each into place, laboring with harddetermination, forgoing rest and…