Treasures

We used to do this thing, we bloggers. Me least of all. To take a day, and praise those we read, and point others in their direction. Maybe it's like having a bunch of old friends, we just assume everyone knows everyone else. Those who drift in and out, welcome as they are, are not much mourned when they only come to one gathering, then drift off again.

But I feel the need to take a moment and make some formal introductions, say some reluctant good-byes, send out some invitations while expecting to be ignored. Today, just the praise and invitations.

And clean through my links at the same time.

The longest remaining reader here, among the first to visit once I started getting a regular score of visitors, is of course Dale. His Mole is full of poetry and insight and sly humorous sensuality, intellectual rigor and esoterica. His deep humanity draws me back over and over. And I remain moved by his gentle and unwavering loyalty. He's kept me writing long past my initial intentions, over many a hump of dismay. It's from his corner of the blogosphere that the idea of the (o) stone came. A token of presence, a way to remember the dead, a gift, a pebble of grace.

Pete of the Pohangina Valley, another long term friend here, is one of the few sites I visit first thing every morning. The Ruins of the Moment frames his amazing photos of his remote corner of the earth. Birds of character, water meeting shore with elegant grace, the land rolling out before us through his lens, all of it strangely familiarly strange.

The Crow has only flitted by recently, but her comments stand out and steal my attention. Her blog is much the same, a nest of glittering observations and ideas, photos and stories. Like most of us, a mish-mash of what's going through our heads, that she shares generously. Funny and lovely and curious.


That will do for today, more perhaps next week.