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-

tell your story

Well, here's the deal...I have been keeping something under my hat because, well because I didn't want to think about this too much, didn't want to make myself crazy about the details and what to say and how to dress and be oh so very vulnerable in front of a room of strangers.

Due to an article last year in a big terrific paper, I was asked to speak at a college in Chicago...to tell my story. I received very little instruction, just "tell your story." Hmmmmm...now there's a dilemma, so much to tell, so much history so much beauty, so much sadness. How does one get up in front of a crowd and speak in such a way that snoring does not occur? That the speaker herself does not break down when remembering what brought her to farming, made her decide that life is worth living, is abundant, is ever evolving, changing and one must learn to flow with it. I've gone on TED and watched the speakers, so passionate, so at ease with their material and their audience. I've researched: How to give a lecture...the one telling I liked best was present it like a menu- Appetizers, soups and salads, the main entree, and finally- the desert. Problem is, my menu is realllllly thick- I've got to pare this thing down, by 8:30 a.m no less- not because I've waited until the last moment, but because I hope to teach something today, make a point. I've always had in the back of my mind, like the Coca-Cola song- "I'd like to teach the world to grieve, in perfect harmony...." Boy oh boy, it should be interesting...hopefully to the audience. And I'm taking someone whom I trust to give hand signals, like you're chattering on, and you sound crazy, and hey you're putting them to sleep, and a simple thumbs up when I've said and done the right thing. Well, I'm sure under prepared for this thing, I don't know how to do this properly, so like everything else in my life- I'm just gonna wing it. Let you know if I fly or flop later...take care-