Yes, these are weeds. But I'm trying to see beauty in a landscape that is overrun with difficulty at the moment. It is there, it is worthy of reverence. Photo is of the walk.

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I had a Dantesque drive up to the Jesuit retreat house to see Patient Spiritual Director last night. There is major construction on the PA turnpike, and perforce much of it is being done at night, when there is less traffic to back up. Sections of the road are reduced to one lane chutes, five foot high cement guards double striped with reflectors.

My headlights set the reflectors ablaze. On the other side of the wall, strangely bright orbs on metal stalks made the construction workers and equipment appear to be on stage. The play was set in purgatory, or perhaps hell. The sharp toothed yellow vehicles belched forth smoke, the workers in their reflective vests and headlamps scurried about like so many imps.

I arrived late enough that all the doors were locked but the one staffed by security. I walked from the far parking lot, into the door under the kitchen and down a long corridor, cluttered with odds and ends. Old luggage. Transitory space, to be sure. I emerged into the familiar basement corridors, found my room assignment. Third floor. This could be heaven (by my definition). Dark, cool and so quiet I could hear my shoes squeak.

I was woken by the sun on my face, already strong and high in the sky when it emerged from behind the chapel. The avian chorus was in full swing in the courtyard below. There was one (!) powdered donut left at breakfast. Tea, sweet and strong. A fox bounding across the lawn by the eastern cloister, her red fur furiously aglow in the sun sharp against the green backdrop. Definitely heaven.

Now, having walked and written, and been directed and shriven, I'm for home.