burlap into velvet

I had Freud questioning my every motive in a dream recently, he asked certain questions about my limbo like state of mind these days, my constant worry and my fantasies....

So...what is on your mind today?

Selling the house.

And how do you feel about that?

Terribly nervous...breaking up is hard to do.

Very interesting way of putting it, how do you mean that?

I'm not sure, but it feels like a break up- like... you know, my house is going to find someone new, I'll be a distant memory.

Ahhhh! Of course! You have psychosomatic sexual feelings for your house as a lover...

Geez, no! This doesn't have anything to do with sex you cornball...this has everything to do with, you know- going steady and breaking up and moving on.

How do you fantasize your farm as...a secret lover-like wind that comes drifting in a window, a stern hard fence post, a timid shy sparrow or a garbage dump?

My, I may have to contemplate that a bit Mr. Freud, you're a weird one...I guess the garbage dump.

Oh my, that is a terrible sign! Women who use garbage dump as a symbol for the home/life are too sufficiently independent and make terrible partners. You will remain alone for the rest of your life I'm afraid.

Is that so?! Well, Dr. let me tell you something- I'd rather be alone than try to be something other than I am. Any man who can't see the good hearted woman standing in front of him is surely blind and I possess no special powers to give him sight.

On the other hand- this place was a dump 18 years ago, and through the years of toil and struggle and renovations... resurrection occurred. How many times has a person collected the garbage, saw something worth saving, loved it- turning burlap into velvet. And I suppose in our relationships we often see the good in that old piece of burlap and with loving intentions, try to make it velvet. Doesn't always work, but sometimes- like for instance this dump, my home- the more love I put in, the more I received. I learned that even though old houses can be drafty, leaky, weepy...in the grand scheme of all things, they also can be home and hearth and haven and harbor. And they hold more sadness and goodness than any sponge ever could, but it's best to leave both there in the dwelling, the foundation- for one without the other is meaningless. Is my hour up yet?

You need much more extensive talk therapy...your home to you is like a person, it is sticks and wood, just a thing I tell you. You must get this through your mind...

Sure, I suppose that kind of therapy would help me, if I could just forget and treat it like lumber and stone. Sir, I'd rather be tormented for the rest of my life with the heaviest happiest heartfelt memories than to treat a home like an object, it has been my friend through thick and thin. Good day to you...

And then poof! I woke up. I hope I dream of Joseph Campbell tonight, or maybe even Maslow..."Follow your bliss" and "forth into growth, backward into safety" and that kind of thing.

Take care...

Try A Little Tenderness

I received the most amazing phone call yesterday, one that was unexpected and deeply appreciated.

In this real estate stuff, I'm constantly on my toes, manicuring this and that...such a silly waste of time on a country place. Weeds grow, birds poop and Garter Snakes like to hang out in the tree line...try to keep all that at bay while city folks who yearn for country living come and see just what a little secluded farm has to offer. I can tell you most don't think about the wildness of such a place, it's a bit too much information at first. Seems folks do enjoy the birds though and the way the wind makes music with the high flying leaves of the Silver Maples. I love to hear such exclamations-

"Is that the wind? It sounds so peaceful here! Does it always sound like that?!"

(Why yes, it does! And when the wind comes out of the East- it sounds like tryouts for the Junior High band as every body wants to play the tuba and trombones....)
Now there's a symphony for sure, when good Old Mother Nature has your full attention as she strikes her cymbals with thunder blasts and lightening crashes. (This is why I've hired someone to show the house and grounds, I'm a bit too honest, some may say "smart ass-ish" to be of any good use to myself when it comes to For Sale By Owner...)

As I was saying, the phone call. After another sweeping of the shed and a boxing up of auction stuff and feeling a bit depressed on top of overwhelmed although appreciating this as of late beautiful weather we're having here...my cell phone, ever at the ready these days- began to ring and vibrate.
(or rather played "Try A Little Tenderness" by Otis Redding, love that song...)
I did not recognize the number or area code, so naturally- I answered.

Mandi called. Mandi who?! Mandi, a fellow Marine- a friend of Beau's from back in North Carolina- a good friend, one who to this day remembers my son with love and gratitude and had been thinking about him and us and had wanted to make this phone call for so long. She didn't know how we'd feel about it, didn't want to upset us. She named her baby boy, her one year old son after her best buddy from her Marine days- Beau. The feeling on my end? I cannot describe it. I only know a pure happy feeling, a joy that has no name- a pride that is to be worn right here on my heart, like a badge of honor. Invisible though it may be, but I wonder- aren't the best and most wonderful unexpected joys, invisible after all? Certainly invisible to the eyes of most, but I suspect everyone I meet today will notice a lightness about me, a beautiful way to be- all because a young woman who I have never met in person took the time, in kindness and courage- to share a most wonderful, remarkable blessing. She named her child Beau.

Semper Fi...

Peace to all, love to all, joy to all...Beauty of the day. Amen.

The birds have it

Good mid-morning to you, it's too hot to mow, too hot to weed, too hot to even think about too much...ooooh boys, it's hot!!! Ah heck, you probably figured that one out already if you're a Midwesterner...we've had alot of moisture as of late along with the glorious sunshine mixing it up and creating the ever loving weather phenomena that we call humidity- see how close the word resembles humility?? Hmmmm, both are humbling...perhaps bringing you down upon your knees, I suppose I look at words more these days as Lily has decided to study Linguistics...very interesting, yes indeed. She's got the brains and patience for learning the many languages and roots of words...hopefully she'll share all that knowledge with me so that I may actually back up a bit and give more depth to my sentences ( with mucho less words...I am a bit of an enthusiastic express-er of too many, ummm...words....but, you knew that, and still you follow, out of curiosity or madness, either way- I will give you your fill of words and their quirky meanings according to my untamed expression of them.)



Well, much like the rain these days- quite the overflow above there, that last paragraph, hmmmm...perhaps I ought to go mow anyhow. Thanks for listening, I sure have been fatigued lately, dead dog tired as they say. Is it just the heat do you suppose, or the massive undertaking going on right now in selling a farm and relocating, or hormones or is it all of the above?!



Well, whatever it is, I hope it goes away in time that I might actually enjoy the look and feel of a farm at it's very pretty best. Perhaps it is the lack of chaos recently that has left me feeling as if I'm too tired to relax, too taxed to really rest. Aren't we a funny race, when things go well we wonder what's up? And when things get rocky we wonder how long do we have to endure this tortuous trail??!!



But then, I get to noticing the little birds all about, the Catbird with it's really pathetic "mew" calls, and yet it seems perfectly smitten with it's surroundings and self. And the little wren that sits on the cedar right off the porch, this beauty of a little thing that warbles the loudest little melody, I can't help but wonder how such a tiny bird could muster up such a big song! And then I peered through my binoculars yesterday and spied the oddest little sparrow-like bird with black beak and beard and white ring around it's neck, couldn't identify this particular bird in my book, wondering if it could be perhaps European Sparrow? If any of you birders out there might help me, I'd appreciate it. Brown thrushes in the hedge, beautiful creatures quite acrobatic. The birds have it. My gaze, my wonder my utmost thanks for all who gather here and call this little humble abode home. More words...less mowing, now is the moment to get it in gear and tackle the lawn care. Take care-


And please if you will, follow the link below- my friend Kristine is a writer/blogger/gardener and she said some very kind things and filled me straight up with all the good stuff.



Beauregard Farm

a heap of effort

In three weeks time we have done so much to make this little place of heaven I call home- even more gorgeous. My Big Fish has been here with his shoulder to the heave, sweat upon his brow, loving kind and gentle as always. He made his exit yesterday, late and lacking a proper gate time, missed his plane although he never complained at all. We made a bed out of doors and slept under the stars, as if we were in a palace made for two under the Almighty's right gaze. Each morning he greeted me with "Hello sweetheart, what's on the agenda today?" And it never mattered even one little bit if there was too much upon the plate, he dug right in, consumed with love and loyalty and a strong gentleness I have never known in another, I miss him so right now. But! The walls and floors, the attic and sheds, all done up right and ready for the next most bless-ed inhabitants. (And I could not have whipped it all into shape without the help of my most devoted friends- I truly do not know what I ever did in this life to deserve such loving support and encouragement.)

Moving is like molasses in a straw, sure takes a heap of effort to get it fluidly in motion. There hasn't been a day since I last wrote that hasn't been an all consuming moving experience. (Though moving is not the proper word...) This isn't moving, this is trudging along, a heave and a ho and a let that thing go, throw that thing away and wait a minute...that goes in my "Mom" box - just because.


Flat tires on old trucks, trees missing limbs, cedars splitting down the middle, Etta finding her way under my tire, (she's OK, her little leg is awful sore though), sleeping in a truck bed, sleek shiny floors, wet painted walls, flowers all in bloom, lawn looking lush- oh why oh why didn't I leave three months ago? Wouldn't have mattered I suppose, always beautiful, this place called Beauregards, always something, always more...winter spring summer fall, memories galore, tears and laughter joy and pain, wouldn't trade any of it, not an ounce of misfortune or beautiful remnant from a most beautiful day.



Waiting on an offer, offering more than anyone can know on first glance. This place will grow on a person's soul and they'll know what I know if their eyes are open and their hearts are true.

Listed and such last week, love for sale...freedom from the fray and Oh! The sunsets...





Take care-

if the boxes became butterflies....

Good morning and where have I been, you wonder to yourselves...or maybe, like me- this gorgeous May has got you all pretty darn busy, interests changing daily, and you just don't read the old blog-0-sphere stories so frequently. That's good. The sunshine and the rain, the flowers that respond because of all these wonderful planetary seasonal changes- good things to notice, good stuff that fills you right up and sticks to your ribs like a good meal. Oh my, that's five goods in a row there...hope I'm on to something!

Listen, you keep busy and I'll keep on cleaning out the attic of too many tears and surprises and stuff! And let's say we'll meet back here in, oh-I don't know, a few days?! I've been taking alot of pics, so beautiful, always beautiful, typically beautiful- is that a good thing?! The farm is sure doing it's naturally gorgeous best to sale itself. Except- it did not come with a self cleaning attic...

(...imagine what the world would be like if all our stuff that didn't really hold any true value after all would just evolve...if the boxes became butterflies and floated off into the wild blue yonder...if the pictures from long ago and far away, the ones that make you smile and remember so vividly, the love or the ones that make you cry and yearn for a smidgen of a yesterday that you could just hug one more time...imagine if you could take your finger and touch that spot from way back when and bring it to the present and somehow wrap it up and keep it safe...that's what attics are good for, I guess. You wrap things up, keep them safe, and eventually realize...the keepsakes aren't keepers after all- they are to be realized I suppose and then, like those box butterflies- they are to be let go...nothing grows in an attic- not memories, nor love...only cobwebs.)

So, in a few days friends, I'll be back- intact and armed to the teeth with my photo brigade of the beauty of Beauregards. Take care-