the mask

 Smiling, bubbly-

she says,

"How are you,

you working yet?"

"No"

I say-

"Not Yet."

(Do you really want to know how I am?  I'm settling an estate, and taking care of several broken hearts, you know, since my son passed. Work?  Hell, I just recently started breathing and walking at the same time again.)

"Are you feeling better now?"

and I respond,

"Oh yes, much better, thank you."

(I don't know how to reply to you, if I tell you how I really feel, you shrink away, so I'll wear the mask that makes you most comfortable, we will not speak of death.)

"You must have been so proud of him, serving his country, at least he made it home alive."

and I squeak,

"Oh, I am proud, and yes, what joy we shared!"

(How trivial you make it sound, like him coming home was the most I should expect, I expected- dreamed of his future, what might have been, I was most proud of him for believing in himself,

his mark was not fully cast on this world.)

"You know", she says "God always opens a window when he closes a door."

"Yes, I know that, thank you."

I seethe.

(Lady, stand here in my shoes, look for windows, they must be covered in the thickest of veils, because all I see is he's gone.)

Finally, she offers-

"Well, take care, call me if you need anything, and smile honey, it's not the end of the world!"

Weakly I reply,

"Thank you for your concern."

(I don't know your number, shall I look in the book and call you when I'm so desperate for him that I could just melt away? Not the end of the world? Maybe not for you, but my world ended when his death collided with my life, oh how I wish it were the other way around.)

For They Existed

"And when great souls die, 

after a period peace blooms, 

slowly and always 

irregularly. Spaces fill 

with a kind of 

soothing electric vibration. 

Our senses, restored, never 

to be the same, whisper to us. 

They existed. They existed. 

We can be. Be and be 

better. For they existed.” 

― Maya Angelou

5:10 In the Deep A.M

The thoughts that occupy my mind these days are mainly on seeds, growing, transplanting and mowing.  There seems to be little to no time for any sort of non-productive recreation, the time to plant is now and seedlings- much like infants, demand full care and attention.  Thankfully, I arise very early.  My coffee break begins then around 5:10 in the deep A.M, just as the sun peeks over the Pocomoonshine knoll.  I travel to a spot in the yard where I might sit in the finest first sunspot, out by the chicken coop- near the Wysteria yet nearer to the Oak tree.  It is so early that the owl in the west woods still calls and the chickens barely whisper as they must hear too, an early warning of mealtime talk from a great predator’s beak to her babes-

“We are not only nocturnal, little ones.  In this first luster of light, many new and bright young things wander out into the sunrise glow and welcome the new day with songs that announce their position.  Breakfast time chicks, I’ll be back soon…”

The old hens stay put, but the young carefree rooster flies up to crow on a fence post…just like his brothers did and I can’t help but wonder if he wonders where did they go?  One morning, they were here too- the next, POOF- out of the thin air something plucked them up in mid-crow.  This farm does not much need a rooster so if he crows and goes,  I’ll heed to nature’s way and not make a big deal out of it. Although that fine cocksure Bantam is sure a welcome sight with his glistening black long tail feathers and white though dappled plumage.  Truly, I would hate to seem him go but what can you do when there are hungry babies in the woods with a sharp-eyed mama owl always on the prowl, vigilantly feeding her young?

Sip my coffee, listen to the birds- breathe deep and long and never shallow for the work of the day waits patiently as a keen eyed owl and can overwhelm just as quick as her swooping nature- one must be fit mentally, physically and perhaps most importantly to this wide eyed grower- spiritually attuned here by this light, this new day sun to take in each grateful breath and exhale just as thankfully for the opportunity to work with the earth. 

I am one year older- true, but my back is stronger and holds up better or perhaps I move slower and surer- maybe it’s the fluid way I work into the day, no longer rushing head on in but first, adjusting my heart to the love of the doing.  Every day I wonder still…and am filled with just being.

 Here…now.

Take care-

Fly

It's been far too long, really.  I have so little time to keep in touch this way and I'm not so sure it matters to so many but I do know it matters a bit to one young lady, so- I'll keep it going.

~Bleeding Heart~

  I can get along with just about anybody;  I really like people and truly it could be said that I love most people but don't always like their behavior.  Just about everyone I meet gets met with a smile, no matter even if there's a ten foot tall elephant balancing on one of my toes- I smile alot these days and it certainly is always a joy to meet someone new, so- SMILE.
There's a fly in the ointment in certain social obligations I have made.  A real negative fly.  In the ointment.  A cantankerous, venomous fly in the salve.  No one smiles at this fly.  I think secretly everyone fears this little fly... with the exception of me.  I can see most plain this little fly is about the fear-fullest being around and for that reason, gets stuck in the ointment and goes around scaring the bejeebers out of people.  If we would call the sky blue, this fly would buzz that it's purple and if we all weren't so idiotic- we would see that for ourselves.  I'd like to swat this little fly.  Hard.  I can't help but wonder if that's what is needed or even wanted. This fly likes to bully people too.  Did I say how much I'd like to swat this fly?  But I'm not real sure what purpose that would serve.  Everyone might feel a little better and I would certainly enjoy it- but what about that little fly?!  What would it mean to it to be swatted?  This little fly appears to be alone, I mean reallllllly alone.  No friends, no chums or confidants...I know, it's not my problem.  But it is.  This fly is getting a little long in the tooth, should know better by now on how to win friends and influence people- but it's always relied on buzzing meanly and rudely.   Just in case you are wondering, I have talked with this fly on a one to one level and there was no buzzing, just pure sweet conversation- but the minute the fly gets in a group setting, off it flies into everyone's eyes and hair and bzzzewt, into the ointment.

Not much of a lesson, I haven't one solution.  Not one.  I do not understand this behavior.  I do not understand at all.  I do not like leadership roles, it makes one narrow minded.  Meaning- even though I know some rather sharp words, I cannot utter them.  Even though I'd like to help this bug right out the door and don't never come back, I cannot escort anyone out or in.  My role is mediator.  My ears are all hearing.  My eyes must look but not too close.  My hands can shake in greeting but not in an educational manner-"Lookee here you, that's enough of your crap.  A little less negative talk and alot more positive action or fly the you-know-what-off!"

Sigh....

It's a dilemma for sure.  I wish I was in my seedshack, dealing with little seeds and dirt in those predicaments when flies fall in the ointment.  I simply was not cut out to be in a leadership role and did not ask to be put here.  I'm a helluva navigator when the going gets tough but this isn't such a tough time, although it is a tense time and it seems that everyone is looking to me to make the right move.  Well, I just did a little.  I am discussing it.  With you, whoever, wherever you are because surely someone else has been in my uncomfortable shoes and walked away straighter and a bit humbler when all was said and done and the damn fly was dislocated.  From the ointment.  Solutions?!


Take care-

slushy, mushy love...

It's cryin' time again, as the old song goes.  The filling station will more than likely be known as the dripping station if the price of gas increases much more.  With that in mind, I'll share a laugh or two- get your mind off the serious and onto the absurd.  Wait...no, we've had enough as that as well...hmmmmm.  How about onto the medicine of laughter?!

The Fish and I (don't have much time this morning so, we'll go with shortened names to protect the hurried...)

went to town yesterday.  He needed bird house makings and I needed to shop for a birthday present.  I suggested the man take me to lunch.  Appalled he was-  Sunday is the big day for the big meal...WITH dessert.  Never mind him- Chinese food seemed about right so we headed that a way.  One look at the parking lot and he said "they're packed, let's not go there."  I readjusted his chronic-crowd-phobia-attitude and pointed to a much available parking space.  This did not sit well with Big.

The man slammed some food on a plate from the available smorgasbord while I dithered here and dallied there, as I was fixing to find our seat I noticed a seemingly confused white headed stranger to my right.  I smiled at her, she sweetly smiled back.  "I do not know where I am supposed to be..." she said just as natural as if I were the tour guide for a cruise ship.  I surmised that miss sunshine probably got out as about as often as I did and got lost dallying and dithering too.  "Did you come with someone?"  "Yes", she said- "my husband."  "Oh, OK...what does he look like?"  She was so sweet, even when she looked as though she might flick my head with her fork.  "He's a man." 

 "Gotcha..." 

 I've been around seniors enough to know when Sometimers or Alzheimers has a person in it's sights.  I looked around the restaurant, hoping that I might help and not cause her any alarm or embarrassment.  I spied a single gentleman, 80ish..."Oh look, is that him?!"  She looked the way of my finger pointing and again met my gaze with the fork flicking attitude of a woman who was getting mighty tired of someone as dull and ignorant as me.

She let out a long sigh and proclaimed loudly for all the sweet and sour crowd to hear-

"No, my husband has hair!"

Surely there's a special place in heaven for people like me who only try to shield others from adversity in buffet lines.  My face turned red, a soon to be hot flash took notice and flared right then.  All eyes were on me while the white haired angel glared and thrust her fork in the air ready to jab when suddenly out of the corner of my eye in booth 22, I saw an old hairy man.

"Look!  Is that him?  He has hair and a beard and looks to be your age and...."

"Well, thank you honey." 

 And just like that, she walked away, leaving me with a plate half full at a buffet.  Such is life...

Take care-

(Need another laugh this morning since you're probably catching on to the fact that everything other than locally produced items now too have mighty hard to swallow fuel surcharges attached to the price?  Well then go here, giggle a little and 

snort through your tears...)

The Truth About Squirrels

morning offering

Here comes the sun...

Brrrr....so cold in here, stumble down the steps bleary eyed-
Feel for the light switch, fingers numb- ahhhh, wait...  Here comes the sun
such a delicate glow 

Or is the glow from the inside fearlessly showing itself in this gentle light...?

Granny's rag balls, now high and blissful art in shine, in shadow, in morning.

Out my back door- see how the feathering white finery settles;
visible for just this occasion... for you Mom.

Too soon, long gone- beauty, magic in moments...
take care-

current

Often in the evenings, I go outside to the woodshed to fetch a few logs for the fire.  The Big Fish wonders why I don't stock the rack inside or allow him to do so, obviously this would make keeping the fire roaring an easier venture.  Well, I've been doing alot of figuring on that kind of thing...easier, convenient.  Seems to me, the more convenient this modern life gets, the less I see or take notice of;  the less I see or take notice of then becomes backdrops, secondary or somewhat invisible...as do any current thoughts.

I am misguided then by the newspaper or the Facebook, and too oftentimes in the winter- television.  The news-feed clouds the future with grave concerns, the past that deserves a look in hindsight becomes more of a focal point and once again, I lose sight of the moon.  Of the stars.  The magnificent sun and the tiny sparrows at my feeders.

So I'll keep my log racks empty but the woodshed full.  I'll not fill the hopper with birdseed just so I can become inconvenienced by dragging out the forty pound bag of sunflower seeds once again in the frosty, frigid mornings- even if it means tromping through iced paved snow banks in my jammies.  My backstepping kind of discipline is probably not gonna fly with the experts- but, this sort of habit keeps me sane and thankful- otherwise, I'd forget to look for the wondrous, the fragile and the current...

I will wait on the moon then, and read the stars...I'm not certain what they say, but all in all- the verse up there is current and freely open to interpretation.  I think they say, as best as I can tell- shine on and on...

If. And. Then.

Loyalty

If:

 Proverbs are short sentences drawn from long experiences. Cervantes

And:

The best substitute for brains is silence. Anon.

Then:

May my pictures not speak a thousand words but heal a million wounds. 

The clouds reaction.

What Alice found there....bread and butterfly.

Bicycle petal.

I have entered the Maine Photography Show for the last three years, limited to only 3 submissions in any category- I decided to submit some runner ups from the Abstract category...I had a very hard time choosing.  Wish me well, it surely would be a feather in my cap to even place- the competition is extraordinary.

Thank you T.M, a photography blog it is...

Take care-

I will not let you go

  It is the sweetest things in life that float on by like feathers and we can only hold them for a moment, their softness reveals our heart to us.    It is the sorrows of life that burrow deeper, cutting and shredding until their harshness instructs the soul. 

Dear Sorrows of Life,

  For the longest time, I could not figure out why I would hold on to your prickliness, your razor like hurt.  Why your acid words would be allowed to echo in my heart, why such dark memories I'd let enter in to some new found light now.  Such struggles I have allowed and wrestled with;  there are still  shadows presently in  life that deserve no place within my bright circle-  that sorely have fashioned a singular prison with no space for light and yet, I will leave my own sanctuary, entering that cell even if I have to stand upright against a cold wall balancing on a single toe like an awkward ballerina because Sorrow, you have something I need.

 Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks  quoted a writing on suffering and tears welled up in my eyes as I listened  to The Pursuit and Practice of Happiness..."   per the On Being Blog (American Public Media).   Profoundly understanding, I felt I should write to you Sorrow on these new fresh days of 2012.  Another year of your lessons are welcomed, I sincerely hope you will allow my continuing correspondence and holding on because..I will not let you go until you bless me.

Take care-