

Day 21 of The Gratitude Experiment: This morning, I am grateful for the 11 hours of sleep I just woke up from. I think that qualifies as a recovery from a coma.
Day 21

Well, here I am at day 20 of The Gratitude Experiment. Today, I'd like to say how grateful I am for the quiet sanctity of my office -- the place where I write. It's a great writer's office for lots of reasons. It has amazing views of the mountains and my horses, and is full of junk, piled in heaps; the stuff I've collected over the years. I have eight skeletons hanging behind my desk (I'm a big fan of Day of the Dead Mexican folk art), a nineteenth-century Japanese watercolor, four guitars, a mandolin, a stick-pony named Blackie that we've had since my son was born, various likenesses of Ganesh, a rhinoceros' head, and a rice container that Autumn Cornwell gave me. Lots and lots of other stuff, too, but I can't list them all. Best anti-writer's-block office ever.

The upper deck on my house is maybe 30 feet above the ground. Directly across, past the line of fence that separates the lower horse paddock, there is a row of tall cottonwoods. At eye-level from my upper balcony, there is a huge hawks' nest. It is particularly visible this time of year, when the leaves are gone and the hills behind are white with snow. Every year, the same pair of hawks raise their young here. I don't think they've taken any of our chickens. They may have, but I wouldn't care. It's pretty cool to watch them. That's my entry for today's The Gratitude Experiment.


