the blue muse

in that tightly furled bud, all candy-caned and poised with potential. Last night the weatherman mentioned the s-word, and looking out my window just now, it seems hard to imagine the possibility of snow. The sun is shining, the temperature pleasant, and there are die-hard flowers standing at attention all throughout the garden.

It’s going to be another busy weekend filled with work, but it is also supposed to be cold and rainy, so it won’t feel so bad to be forced inside.

This morning as I walked past a window, a blue jay was standing in the driveway, and when I looked again, he was gone. It will be the same with autumn. Before I know it, I will be bringing seed to hungry birds on cold, cold winter mornings.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how wonderful I have it here, in the tiny bubble of my own little world, and how different it can be out there, in the rest of it. Pondering how much I should strive to keep up with the news when it always seems bad, the politicians that all seem suspect, the state of the earth and the mess of the economy. There is so much that we cannot make sense of.

It can be so hard to know how to make a difference.

But I figure it out one day at a time, each morning there are those birds and that garden and that favorite teacup, and these are the things that ground me. I may never be able to solve all the problems of the world, but I can embrace the life I have and live it and love it and cherish it all just the same.

I can strive to live my best possible life.

And perhaps that is the best I can do.