the blue muse

How cute are they?

The other night I took a little walk down to the swamp at the bottom of the hill I live on. As I walked up to the edge of the water I surprised a mama duck, I think she was a wood duck, though it was hard to tell. She promptly hopped into the water and took off, leaving her babies to scramble after her. They were so tiny and they huddled close together in a little ball of fuzz as they made their way out to their mama.

Mama, wait for us….

Ah, safe and sound, all together once more.

I was a little surprised that she didn’t stay to protect her babies, but glad that it all worked out in the end.

On the other side of the swamp there was a gaggle of geese, it looked like two sets of parents with their almost-grown children, all honking and clamoring around, just like noisy teenagers, not really listening to their parent’s instruction.

It was so good to be out walking, seeing babies, watching the sunset.

Enjoying life.

::

to blossom

breathe life in

raise your face to the sun

drink the rain

shiver in the mist

revel in the moment.

::

one day

to be all the beauty

that you are.

::

That’s me, there in the lower left corner, trying to grow straight up, but somehow I keep bending in the wrong direction, following the wrong ray of light, moving around when I should move forward.

This has been a crazy year, and it just keeps getting crazier. This week, after just starting to heal from my knee surgery, we found out that my husband has a hernia, and now he needs surgery. And it is scheduled for two days before our next jewelry show! See, I told you, crazy.

So here I am, taking another little detour on this road that is life.

But in the big scheme of things, that’s all it is, a little detour. A hurdle that I can clear, with enough deep breaths and super-careful time management and a whole lot of hope.

My path may be filled with zig-zags and rocks and obstacles, but I’m just going to keep on walking, and one of these days, soon, I’m going to break into a run that will make it ever-so-much easier to fly right over those hurdles.

::

p.s.: I just wanted to thank each and every one of you for visiting, commenting, supporting. It really does mean a lot. Lately, time has not allowed me to respond or visit or thank you enough, but I do, thank you, from my heart. xoxo

From where I sit, life is beautiful. Here in my garden, just slightly too warm, birds singing, sun shining through sections of big, puffy clouds, and the scent of flowers, roses, mostly, settling over my skin like a veil.

Quiet, quiet, except for those always busy, always happy birds, singing praises of a life I can only imagine, with wings being necessary for flight and all… There are roses everywhere I look, hanging low and luscious even as they act as disguise for the mess beneath them, behind them, around them.

My garden is a jumbled, tangled jungle — and will stay this way for another year, surely. I mind, but so it is — unable to do anything about it, I shall strive to embrace the chaos. Given time, I think I could become quite good at that, although I suppose that inevitably, it will all fall from my arms.

But these white roses, right here in front of me, all still and perfect and prolific in their charm, well, they already knew that.

From where I sit, life is beautiful.

For quite some time now, it has felt like my life was on a bit of a hold, waiting for my surgery, not being able to use my knee in all the ways that let me lead my normal life. I am so glad to put this chapter behind me and begin turning the page to start the next one.

The not being able to run has, without a doubt, been the hardest. I know that can sound crazy if you don’t run, but for me, running is my meditation, my stress reliever, the one thing I do just for me that brings me back to center.

I am so looking forward to running again. Sweating out all the tension and anxiety that my body tries to hold onto, feeling the accomplishment that comes with each half mile, then mile. The peace and serenity I feel afterward.

And there is my garden, that poor, tangled jungle that is just waiting for someone to bring order to its chaos. It is truly amazing how quickly nature can take back the land when you are not looking.

I am so looking forward to spending a long, lazy Sunday out there on my hands and knees, getting reacquainted with each plant and square foot of earth, feeling the sun beat down on my back. Gardening consoles me.

I am looking forward to walking up stairs with no pain, squatting down to pick up the bead that I’ve dropped, reaching into the back of that corner cupboard that requires getting down on hands and knees. All the little things that get taken for granted, until you can no longer do them.

These few months with this not-so-serious injury took me back a few years to the time when I was sick with a kidney problem, with all the same feelings of helplessness and frustration and let’s face it, mortality, floating around in the back of my mind.

In many ways, it was a good reminder for me, a gentle nudge to tell me to appreciate all that I have, to live each day to the fullest, to embrace each minute with joy and wonder, and maybe even to slow down, just a little.

And so today, I am looking forward.

To life.

Whenever I see poppies, I think of that scene in the Wizard of Oz where they all lay down in that endless field and fall asleep… I am still feeling slightly sleepy and dopey after my surgery, but mending well and getting around quite nicely.

Thanks to all of you for your kind words and support. I am looking forward to getting back to “normal” which of course I put in quotations because normal is a relative term…

This morning I was able to walk outside to have my tea in the garden, listen to the birds sing, pet a purring cat that jumped into my lap.

The little things. It’s always the little things that comfort us most, don’t you think?

Or maybe these things that we call little are really the big things.

Larger than life.

Wafting in through my window, the smell of roses, peonies, pansies, petunias.

A crazy two days as I prepare for some minor knee surgery.

I am breathing in

savoring

wishing you a week filled with flowers.

Perfection rarely exists in nature. At least perfection in the way that most of us define it: flawless.

When I looked at this photo, I thought “ugh, I didn’t notice that the leaves had been chewed on when I snapped it.” Forgetting, of course, to see the beauty of the light.

But I’m working on it. The older I get, the less I strive to be a perfectionist. It’s a silly goal anyway, because, of course, you never get there. And you waste so much energy in the trying.

And so here it is, my beautifully imperfect photo filled with perfectly perfect dappled light and imperfectly chewed on leaves.

I bet the bug that chewed on them thought they were perfectly delicious.

It all comes down to perspective.

Don’t you think?

Each day starts out that way. Each book as you crack its cover, each first day
of vacation, each January 1st, each blank sheet of paper.

But you can narrow it down, which makes it larger.
Expand the open-ended of your life…

Each hour. Each minute.
Each second.

Right. Now.

Open.

::