Life-Changing Tip

August 2, 2026August 2, 2026 / Hermionejh / Leave a comment

“If you had to give one life-changing tip, what would it be?”
WordPress writing prompt, August 2, 2026

Do It NOW. Tomorrow, or some future date, rarely presents the right time. When we ‘get around to it’ more often means the pile or the project remains undone.

I once heard that ‘it’s the start that stops us.’ If that applies, break it down. What can be done in 5 minutes? 10, 15, or 20 minutes?

You’ve got this.

And I know it’s supposed to be just one, but:

YOU ARE ENOUGH.

YOU MATTER.

❤️

Abundant Life

July 14, 2026 / Hermionejh

It’s possible to see the flowers over the weeds, and remember that weeds also serve a purpose.

It’s possible to know that chaos, enmity, greed, and the maleficent use of power are reining supreme, and also know that those of good will are also still here, continuing the work of uplifting humanity.

There is community, understanding, kindness, love, protection and an abundant life – without the need to dominate or control.

We can say no to those who would steal our peace and joy, and then create more peaceful and joyful spaces.

We can form collectives and our own economies and remove our money, our time, and our labor toward a government that has turned against the people it pretends to serve.

We can still love our neighbor, take care of the sick, and remember the abundance of the natural world and of helping each other.

We are making a choice. We have the power to change direction, to adjust, to create a world in balance and harmony.

We can have each others’ backs.

We do not have to accept lies meant to obscure corruption and abuse.

Will we?

After The Storm

July 24, 2020July 24, 2020 / Hermionejh

Our summer has been hot and humid – and I’ve already heard “Hot enough for ya?” greetings where a nod and a commiserating look suffices in answer.

We have been edging into drought since late May again for the third year in a row. There was no rain for over a month, but then a string of storms descended, like a fire hose on a match, and the town crews got busy removing felled branches and trees in the aftermath, while the electric company restores power, and residents clean up their yards and assess damage to their gardens or land.

We were lucky. Our garden sits to the side of the house, looking like it has no idea what the bother was.

Our neighbor’s weren’t so lucky.

A large tree crashed down, gouging into a long swath of the neighbor’s prized asparagus patch, the tree branches swiping through most of the row of blackberry bushes he planted last fall – sending not-quite-ripe berries scattered through their yard. Their asparagus which had grown tall and spindly with seeds, is no more. The roots are deep though, and next spring will likely see a new crop – and if the neighbors are brave, they’ll plant blackberry bushes again.

We pick ourselves back up and move on, if we haven’t been flattened. Maybe pieces were scattered over our soul’s yard – crumpled, raw, and overwhelming to look at, but we start somewhere. Maybe picking up bigger pieces and try to salvage whatever we can.

The job is too big for a day, and time fills in with other necessary tasks, and days turn to weeks turn to months – but we see it out there. It’s not going anywhere until we do something about it.

After inspecting our oblivious growing garden, I pull on my work gloves and start picking up branches and twigs in the neighbor’s yard and put them on the burn pile for next spring.

My neighbor is pushing bigger limbs with his tractor back into the tangle of vines and poplar trees that line the back of his property. I wave and smile and after he’s through we look at the damage together.

“Could have been worse,” he says with a grimace.

“Could have been better too,” I think, but just give a sympathetic smile and return to picking up some of the debris before heading back into the coolness of my house.