the blue muse

How can you not love a plant that chooses to grow in your garden? Even when it decides to take up residence right smack dab in the middle of the path from the driveway to the back door, forcing you to walk around it each time you go in or out.

Volunteer plants have always been my favorite, and are part of the reason that my garden gets messy… I never have the heart to pull them out. Who am I to say that a flower cannot grow where it chooses?

And who could resist that perfect color? Color that has also created itself, as columbines form their own hybrids. I’ve never had this shade of this plant in my garden before.

It is a gift.

Reminding me that being in control isn’t all that.

Spontaneity has its own rewards.

Letting things be as they are, who they are, might just be the best way to grow.

My garden is always teaching me lessons.

Tiny lessons, yes.

But they all fit into the big picture.

And today, it’s a very pretty picture, indeed.

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Wishing you a weekend filled with tiny lessons.

There was little time to take photos of my crab apple tree this year, one day it was blooming, and the next we had a heavy, wet snowstorm that broke one branch and destroyed most of the blossoms.

Ah, such is life.

I kind of like this photo anyway, something about faded flowers–they have their very own brand of beauty.

Lately, I’m trying to work out exactly what to do with this space, where to go with it, what to say, which path to take. I hope I don’t seem too scattered here. I know I talk about my garden a lot, which goes to show that it really is a big part of my life.

Cutting back on jewelry shows means another shift, regrouping, reassessing. More questions. If you’ve known me for any amount of time, you know I spend a lot of time with the questions.

I did decide, just yesterday, to divorce myself from the notion of ever being caught up. It’s impossible. There is always something new to add to every slate I clean. I will never been done with everything.

Once again, such is life.

Why does it take so long to figure these things out? Sheesh. I have, in the past (fairly often), embraced the chaos. But the time has come to marry it, the never-ending list, the being pulled in all directions. It’s time to learn to love it. Or at the very least, to live with it.

And like all good weddings, I think that calls for cake, don’t you?

Okay, well, maybe just a piece of chocolate. But I am going to take five minutes and enjoy it.

Savor it. With gratitude.

And I won’t even need to write a thank you note.

By the way, you’re invited to join me.

The last of the tulips have been replaced with geraniums, peony buds, alliums, and more weeds than I count.

Already, I am behind with my gardening, so much to catch up on from two years of neglect. I tell myself it will be okay, I will get there, I can’t do it all at once. And of course, I can’t. And, of course, it will be okay.

I focus on one bed at a time, one small patch, pulling weeds, dividing plants, adding mulch, making pretty. And then I smile at myself because it’s funny, really, this constant battle to tame this patch of land, to make it into what I want, regardless of Mother Nature’s intentions.

This is what gardening is, really: a constant tug of war with nature. And it’s a good thing I love a challenge.

This morning I sat outside with tea, it’s an incredibly still, overcast day, and the silence that is never really silent settled over me like a blanket.

The wildlife is oh-so-busy: a hummingbird hovered by my head, hoping I might move away from the lantana plant he was after, a woodpecker knock-knocked in the distance, bumblebees bumbled, songbirds were singing.

For a moment, I felt despair creep in, looking at this mess, all this work to do, wondering how I let it get so out of control. Life has its own plans for us, always. Mother Nature is a good mother, knowing when to nurture and when to force us to stand on our own. Teaching us to work for what we want, to accept what we are given, to revel in the moments of sunshine.

And there will be more rain, more cold, more wind. There will be damage.

But there will always be flowers again, rising up from the messiest tangle of weeds, fighting for their place in the sun. Reaching for life.

I sat there like a flower.

Still. Quiet. Listening.

Learning to grow.

.

the day into existence

the night a lovely lullaby

for sunshine and for rain

to babies that arrive

and babies that fly away

.

she sings

.

and because we are all mothers in some way

happy mother’s day to you

.

The blue of forget-me-nots has worked its way throughout my garden,
spreading itself everywhere like an oh-so-beautiful weed.
Even in the woods next to the driveway, there is an undercarpet
of fresh spring green and bright sky blue.

I should pull them up, technically they are choking out
the growth of other plants.
But I don’t have to heart to do it.

Instead, I sit here,
remembering.

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In trying to take a photo of an admiral butterfly over the weekend, I captured this little exchange and it made me smile… in the photo above, the butterfly had just landed. Below is what happened next.

I guess the ant won.

Here’s to protecting your turf.

Happy Monday.

bringing spring and warmth and thunderstorms, windows open,
curtains billowing in the breeze.

it’s amazing how such a simple thing can make me so happy.

yesterday morning, this was the view from my backyard.

last night was hours and hours of lightning, thunder rumbling,
pouring rain.

cats climbing into bed with us like children to wait out the storm.

almost, a flooded basement. but the rain let up just in time.

and overnight, the world is twice as green.

lush.

verdant.

now there’s a word.

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wishing you a weekend filled
with things you love best.

In her youth she was the sun, shining brightly for all to see.
Her smile was persistent, adamant, and would not be ignored.

Some days, she was trampled, mowed over, made to feel unwelcome.
Despite it all, she reached for the sky, always growing,
always hoping, always standing tall.

After a time, she fell in love with the moon. And so, she changed,
shape-shifting to fit the mold of night’s reigning queen.
She could be seen in the darkness of midnight,
and spent all her time seeking wishes.

The moon, alas, had no warmth to offer,
and never strayed from the path it was bound to.

One night, something inside of her loosened,
and she cast all her wishes to the wind.

The moon, feeling sorry for what she had done,
gathered up these tiny stars and
spread them like a blanket ‘cross the sky.

These bits of light embraced her like children,
and she alone was always there
to watch them shine.

(for my mom)

This weekend was a bit of a disaster. All the reasons that I have always refused to do first year shows played out in epic proportions.

But, lesson learned, or reaffirmed, and we’ll just leave it at that.

Today is a new day, tomorrow is a new month. May is one of my favorites, mostly because of my garden. My garden which is a complete and utter mess right now, but at the same time, a blank canvas just waiting to be painted.

We have decided to cut back on our jewelry shows this year, mainly because so many shows have become too hard to handle alongside full-time jobs. But for me, a small part of that decision was also because of my garden. I have missed it, too much, these past few summers.

So our next show won’t be until September.

It was a big decision, a tough decision, but also, a necessary one. This year I am looking to find more balance in my life.

In January, I declared it my year of discarding. And I meant not only possessions, but the things that weren’t working, the habits and choices and the biting off of more than I can chew.

It’s time for me to slow down, at least a little. Remove some of the stress and fill that space with flowers. Birds. Blue sky overhead.

Listening. To the world and to myself.

Slowly inching my way down a new path, one that allows me time to stop and smell the roses, appreciate the sunrise, read a book in the shade on a summer Sunday.

Who knows where this will take me?

I’m looking forward to finding out.

Our first show if the year is this weekend, if you are in the area,
stop by and say hello!

We will be here:

Springtime in Canandaigua
Canandaigua Civic Center
250 North Bloomfield Rd., Canandaigua, NY  14424

Booth 7
Friday, April 27th •  1 p.m. – 7 p.m.
Saturday, April 28th • 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.
Sunday, April 29th • 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.

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Wishing you a weekend filled with Spring!

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