The end of summer and the celebration of labor. Time to put away your white shoes and get down to business before the chill of winter sets in.
I am reminded of the story of the grasshopper and the ants.
I also think about my labor. My life is centered around my labor. Like the ants, i know all too well that if I don't work, I don't eat.
My labor from my hands. Everything I do from my own hands. I think about my fathers hands, gnarled from arthritis like some kind of knotty tree branch. He labored hard and worked himself to death by the age of 67. I got a strong work ethic from him but also an awareness of the inequities and injustices of life. I heard him say once that if hard work made you rich we'd all be millionaires.
I am luckier then my father, my work is also my passion and the reason I feel alive.
So today I celebrate the labor of hands the things that are touched and shaped by people, mostly nameless, mostly poor and mostly hard working. Always aware that winter is coming.