the blue muse

a soft white blanket spilling over the edges of everything

comfy

cozy

sometimes just a bit too heavy

spinning dreams of green and life’s long essence

weighting

waiting

cupped hands

filled with warmth

whew

I finally got all the decorations down, and now I miss the tree, or more precisely, I miss the light filling that corner of the living room.

All the snow has melted, and there is mud everywhere I turn.

I’m still not feeling back to “normal,” which actually makes me laugh because in truth, I can’t remember ever feeling normal, but you know what I mean.

But I do have a lovely amaryllis blooming on the kitchen table, and baskets of fairy lights in all the darkest corners, and soon it will be cold again, the mud will dry, or freeze, or get covered by a pretty blanket of snow.

Last night I took the dog outside and there was the moon, almost full, lighting my way. Orion was there as well, (my favorite constellation) offering his shoulder for her to cry on. But, instead, I thought I saw her smiling, as if we had a private joke between us.

And that’s what I’ll remember about yesterday, not the mud, or the greyness, or the little bit of dizziness that keeps creeping up on me when I least expect it.

I’ll remember that moon and her wry midnight smile.

She knows all the best stories.

and standing in one place can’t slow the passage of time

still

there are moments you can hold in the palm of your hand

moments that stop you in your tracks

moments that bring you to your knees

with the beauty of it all

and this is what feeds you

keeps you going

arms stretched wide

drinking it in

still

.

milk white winter light

frozen filter

fallen veil

spin spin spin

beneath a moon too cold

to offer laughter

wait for home

wait for gentle

wait for night

leave no footprint

in this landscape

of yesterday’s

reflection

.

.

Because it always seems like a good idea at the time, keeping things the way they are, holding tight, refusing to let go.

Until the day comes when that release is automatic, you do it without even thinking, you turn around while making the bed and see something that’s been sitting on a shelf for years and years. See it. In a whole new way.

And you realize it doesn’t belong there any longer, it needs a new place, it’s time for a change.

Maybe it’s just that it’s January, a new year, a cold winter. Maybe it’s just that I was sick forever and I’m ready to get on with it, ready to clean out the cobwebs. Ready to get rid of anything that isn’t, as they say, beautiful or useful. Ready for change.

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”
~ Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

I feel that shift, from questions to answers. Although, of course, I will always choose to sit with the questions. Those answers tend to be loud and boisterous and bossy, and quite frankly, in my opinion, questions have far more to offer.

But every so often, you have to give an answer a chance. Because it might just surprise you. You might even become great friends.

I’ve been questioning, for some time, the role of this space, here, and while I don’t yet have the perfect answer, I feel the need for a change. A spring cleaning, if you will. Dusting under things and rearranging, repurposing and discarding.

A new shape. A new direction.

Fresh air.

Let me know if you have any thoughts on what you’d like to see.

.

.

.

full of growth

stored energy

ready to bloom

fill the room

with gorgeous color

.

When I woke up this morning it was 5 degrees outside. Fahrenheit.

Cold enough to keep me inside, bundled up in a great sweater, counting the hours until it’s time to light the fire. Cold enough to make me oh so glad I don’t have to venture out into the great wide world today. Cold enough even to keep naughty kitten inside.

And so, a new year, one that seems to want to freeze everything in sight, even time. And I am cocooned in this house, though I will venture out to pull some snow off the roof in the place that always leaks, to shovel outside the back door so the dog can get outside, to set some suet out for the birds, because my goodness, it’s not a good day to be a bird.

There is work to do before I can snuggle up next to the fire, but these are the days of winter that I love. The early days before cabin fever sets in, the days when it feels like a treat to be snowed in. Of course, the novelty of this wears off fairly quickly, and by next month, I will begin complaining, yearning for green, and the days when you can walk outside unencumbered by coats and hats and gloves.

But for now, I’m enjoying the silence. The white blanket that keeps getting heavier. The frost coating every window in the house.

Winter is a cold, cold friend who almost always overstays her welcome, but she’s a beauty all the same.

She holds the fury of the night and the patience of forever.

She might even melt your heart, a little.

But watch out for your fingers.

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bells all a-jingle

with holiday laughter

.

.

old and new wishes

for smiles and kisses

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