the blue muse

my favorite weed

it goes in everything I eat

all summer long

and soon,

there will be pickles

He is such a naughty kitten. He never comes when he is called, he teases old lady cat who is queen of the house, he hunts birds.

Every afternoon, like clockwork, he takes a nap in this chair, lord of his domain.

His brother, George, has been gone for a year now, and I still miss him.

Every day while this one is outside, I worry.

He goes by Brett, or He Who Must Not Be Named, or Doodlebug.

Yes, Doodlebug.

Doesn’t he look like a Doodlebug?

He drives me crazy and he makes me laugh and he is such a naughty kitten.

::

Wishing you a weekend filled with naps.

.

reaching for the light, always

.

during the night, at long last, we had rain.

real rain.

the kind that came very close to causing the basement to flood.

and quite honestly, even that would have been fine with me.

my house is surrounded by farm fields, this year planted with corn,
that were in desperate need of moisture. my garden has had
help from a hose, but it was looking like a rough year
for the farmers.

i hope this will have helped enough.

sometimes, being grateful is so simple.

sometimes, it is very, very hard.

but today, rain.

that is enough.

Some days, the world just breaks my heart.

It’s hard to find the good, the beautiful, the light.

I sit here, in this spot, and watch the sun rise.

Just as it always does.

::

last night i stood outside and watched a thunderstorm
pass us by in the distance.

again.

the lightning was beautiful behind its veil of clouds

and i invited it into my garden,

but apparently, the party was somewhere further north.

i should have asked it

to dance.

And yesterday morning, for a while, it did. Not nearly enough, but at this point, I have to assume that anything at all will help. Our grass is very thirsty. The trees are very thirsty. My garden has been watered, but that is never the same.

When I got out of bed, instead of the sunny day that I had intended to spend gardening, I found grey skies and soft rain. And just like that, I changed my plans. I decided to take a day off, from everything.

I puttered and perused, drank tea and relaxed, curled up in my favorite chair with a book. And oh my, what a book.

I chose The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, after hearing many good things about it. And it was perfect. Just exactly the book I have been looking for these past few weeks. An unforgettable book. A beautiful book. A book that will change you just by reading it. In many ways, it’s a very sad book. A heartbreaking story that made me cry more than once.

I finished it last night at around 10:00 o’clock. And then I sat in my chair and thought about how blessed I am to simply be here. Alive. In a comfortable chair. Inside a home that has air conditioning, even if it is only window units. Well-fed from the simple, lovely dinner my husband and I cooked together.

Life is hard for all of us at times. But it is so easy to forget that even when it is hard, it is still life. And no matter how hard it gets, it could always be worse.

I sat in my chair and I was grateful. For nothing at all except the breath I was taking.

I walked outside and stared up at the stars, and I couldn’t find even one fault.

For that, John Green, I thank you.

.

.

.

Linking up with Kim Klassen’s Texture Tuesday, stop by and join the fun!

This is the lattice wall that was crushed in our late Spring snowfall. I managed to save one branch of the rosebush that had grown to completely cover the lattice, the rosebush whose weight caused the wall to come down.

And now, the wall has been fixed and the rosebush, like the rest of my garden, is in recovery mode. We haven’t had a real rain in a month. I spend lots of time moving hoses and watering pots.

My skin is brown, my face is freckled, my hair is sun-faded.

I live in sundresses and flip-flops. I work and watch bees and butterflies from my studio window. Birds chirp and frogs make me smile and grasshoppers tease naughty kittens.

I sit and drink tea in the mornings, and come out at dusk to listen as the world tucks itself in for the night.

Robins sing the lullabye of summer.

And life is good.

Sometimes, it feels as if I’ve been waiting all my life.

Of course, that never stops me from reaching for the sky,
leaning towards the sun, growing.

There is so much optimism in the bud of a flower.
You can see the anticipation, the reaching out.
In truth, a blossom is only the means to an afterlife.
A way to carry on.
To pass one life to another.

I hope when the time comes,
I have enough sense to soak up the light,
smile, and bloom with grace.

The seeds left behind will be an offering.

Of love.

Of possibility.

Of hope.

Everything I need.

It’s not all bad, being a worker bee. There is nectar to drink, flowers to smell, sunshine to absorb.

So far, my summer has been divided between work and gardening.

Last week was a social week, time spent with two friends, followed by a weekend with two of the children and their significant others. My hermit self seems to be on vacation. And that’s okay. There are times for reflection and introspection, and times for taking it all in.

Soon, it will be time for jewelry making, getting ready for shows, more busy bee work. There is work to be done around the house, painting and sprucing up, and there are still two sections of weeds in the garden that I must tackle. But I think July is going to be a month for stopping to smell the flowers, as often as possible. There must be reading and relaxing, smiling and dancing, listening and loving.

There must be time to to simply bee.

Yes.

Care to join me?