the blue muse

I sit at my desk and the sun is shining, beckoning, asking if I can come out and play. And I walk to the door and peek a toe out, one foot, then the other and I am tempted, so tempted.

But there’s work to be done, and I know this, and so I tell myself that it is really too chilly to play outside anyway and march myself back to my desk.

And I sit and stare out the window, at the sun, at the tulips, and the bluebirds who are considering renting that house on the post, seriously considering it because everything looks fine, perfect in fact, except for those loud, pesky sparrows that keep hanging out on the corner.

I watch the world move through this day while I sit here at my desk and do the work I must do to survive. And I am not complaining, I know it could be worse, I could have a desk with no window. And then I would wither.

On some days, the days I love best, the work is done early, and I can walk outside and sit in my favorite spot beneath the rose bush and watch the blue birds build their nest, and at dusk, listen as the mockingbird tells me the story of everyone he has ever met.

And I say nice to meet you crow and robin, cardinal and finch, swallow and wren. Nice to meet you Mr. Frog, because yes, my mockingbird does a frog.

I love that about him.

And then, with a smile, I can go back inside because there is always more work to be done, but now I feel lucky to have spent some time with my friends, the sun on my toes, my own personal blue bird of happiness.

The sunset is beautiful, and there sits the mockingbird. He has promised to take notes and fill me in on anything I miss.

And I love that about him, too.

This morning when I got out of bed it was snowing.

A very pretty large flake falling slowly kind of snow.

It was snowing on my daffodils, my tulips, my lilacs.

It was a whisper of winter come back to remind me

to cherish the glory of spring.

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15% OFF everything in our etsy store from now until Mother’s Day

Just leave a note with the code 15MOTHERS at check out and
I will refund your discount through paypal. Happy Shopping!

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Also, Susan Tuttle over at Ilka’s Attic is offering a chance
to win a copy of her fabulous new book:

Digital Expressions: Creating Digital Art with Adobe Photoshop Elements

Click here to hop on over and check it out!

a bleeding heart is always beautiful

the breeze bears promises and music

spring is the color of potential

and hope rises in its dream

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15% OFF everything in our etsy store from now until Mother’s Day

Just leave a note with the code 15MOTHERS at check out and
I will refund your discount through paypal. Happy Shopping!

Sweet can be so many things. It is kittens and babies, cakes and confections, love and kindness. Children and hugs, chocolate and cream, smiles and sunshine. Memories and keepsakes, grandmothers and cookies, popsicles and innocence.

The picture above is one of the two new kittens that have wandered into my life recently. His name is Brett, and he is, indeed, very sweet. And also playful and naughty and rambunctious and curious. Like all good kittens should be. (You can read more about his story, and that of his brother, here and here, if you like.)

I love to watch him play in the yard, he rarely sits still, even when he is on my lap, purring, he squirms around constantly, he is just too full of life, of that sweet curiousness that defines the very young.

The picture below is my son, 22 years ago. It is my favorite picture of him ever, I keep it on my desk and look at it everyday. It reminds me of when he was like a kitten, sweet but also playful and naughty and rambunctious and curious, all at the same time.

And now he is grown, and I am glad I have this picture, this keepsake. Twenty two years sounds like such a long time when you say it. But it seems like just yesterday that I was watching him play in the yard, never sitting still, learning new things every second, viewing the world with that same sweet curiousness.

And now he has grown into a fine young man, just ready to finish college and begin his journey into adulthood. And if I tell him that I am cooking his favorite thing for dinner, or that I found him a great new pair of flip flops, his reply will almost always be:

“Sweet.”

And there you have it.

P.S. This post is part of You Capture – Sweet

Green is innocence, patina, verdant, fresh.

Green is spring and summer, renewal and leaf.

Green is the color of a hummingbird’s soul.

Green is goodness and grass, and bells of Ireland.

Green is lime and pistachio, celery and olive.

Green is parrot and ivy,  earth, forest and fern.

Green is goddess and emerald, mint mocha delight.

Green is envy and verdigris, inexperience and growth.

Green is holly and pine, and June’s favorite song.

Green is sage and willow, a soft bed of moss.

Green is peridot promise, jade jewels and glass.

Green is nurture and nature, the mother of kindness.

Green is pond and polliwog, lizard and frog.

Green is sanctuary, promise, life.

and a poem by one of my favorites, e.e. cummings:

in time of daffodils

in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)

in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me

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may we all remember the beauty that poets add to our lives.

(even the ones who are a little different…)

p.s. it was soooo hard not to add the spaces back in that e.e. cummings chose to leave out

Yellow is cheerful, exuberant, cozy, potential.

Yellow is summer and silly, chartreuse and daffodil.

Yellow is the color of bright new beginnings.

Yellow is flaxen, buff, and prince of pastel.

Yellow is banana and morning, sunbeam and smile.

Yellow is canary, goldfinch, swallowtail.

Yellow is lemon and meringue, primrose and light.

Yellow is pride, portent, and long golden silence.

Yellow is sunshine, towhead, and dandelion kisses.

Yellow is coward and jaundice, the keeper of sallow.

Yellow is blond and beauty, with a slight hint of beige.

Yellow is ranunculus, the maker of hay.

Yellow is pineapple dreams, topaz visions.

Yellow is gilded, brilliant, hope.

If my life were a scrapbook
it would hold angst and laughter,
memories and monument,
pauses and portent.

If my life were a scrapbook
there would be glue, but no glitter,
colors running through the days,
small words pasted in the margins.

If my life were a scrapbook
you would see plain and pretty
mingled together on each page.

If my life were a scrapbook you would find
love and tenderness, empathy and turmoil,
rage and ritual.

If my life were a scrapbook I would cozy up by the fire
and flip through my pages with longing.

If my life were a scrapbook
you would focus on the shiny bits
pull them off one by one
and line them up
to create your own picture.

If my life were a scrapbook
there would be buttons
but no bows
bones and long rivers
and hawks would fly through my pages.

If my life were a scrapbook there would be no end
just dozens and dozens of beginnings.

If my life were a scrapbook I would
scream with loud colors and
whisper to saints in the darkness.

If my life were a scrapbook
I would hide by the cover
and watch as your smile drew sunset.

If my life were a scrapbook
the lines would be blurred,
the message would be lost,
and the end would reveal
the portal of midnight.

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April is National Poetry Month

Poetry was the first creative love of my life, so I am
participating in the Poetry Book Giveaway being hosted by
Kelli Russell Agodon over at her blog, Book of Kells.

The first book I am offering is Living is What I Wanted
by David Ignatow.

The second book I am offering is Selected Poems of Anne Sexton,
because she has always been one of my favorites.

(Click on either of the images above for more info.)

If you’d like to be entered into the drawing to win one of these
two books, just leave a comment on this post by
April 30, 2010 11:59 p.m. EST and you’ll be entered!

If you do not have a blog, please include your email address so I can
contact you. I will be paying postage, so don’t worry about that.

I will be choosing the winners on May 1st, 2010.

Good luck!

Orange is friendly, ebullient, flame and feather.

Orange is citrus and cream, ochre and fortune.

Orange is the color of embers at dawn.

Orange is apricot visions and two kinds of passion.

Orange is pumpkin and candy, the ripe scent of autumn.

Orange is auburn and carrot, antithesis of gray.

Orange is tangerine and sherbet, children and sunset.

Orange is single, stands tall, and gives no one rhyme.

Orange is lily and luster, butterfly and kitten.

Orange is lewd and lascivious, the smile of clown.

Orange is oreole, parrot, terra cotta and time.

Orange is peach and coral, cheeky and brilliant.

Orange is father of yellow, close to golden.

Orange is happiness, jubilant, high.

This year is the first year in about ten years that I haven’t started seedlings for my garden.

And I’m feeling it. I miss my “babies” (which is what I call them), miss the feeling that I am starting my own little version of spring right here in my basement.

It came down to a matter of time. The past few years have been crazier and crazier as we’ve added jewelry shows, and last year there was one the first weekend in June. Getting ready for that and getting my garden planted was a pretty major clash.

I usually start between twelve and fifteen flats of plants. The process starts sometime in March and then I tend them, carefully, lovingly, transplanting and watering and feeding and watching over, until it is time to start moving them outside, hardening them off, and finally finding a place to settle them into so they can take root and grow.

Kind of like real babies.

Mine are all grown, and sometimes I miss all that nurturing, too.

I am at that in-between stage, where mine are grown up, but still too young to be sending grandchildren in my direction. And I can wait…you know, be careful what you wish for…

But that probably explains why I keep adopting kittens.