This week especially, maybe because of the full moon or who the heck knows, there’s been a divisive air in the air. People have been out to get someone. Even people who normally bat for your team, now are eyeing you sideways, judging your every move. I’ve done my best to ignore these astrological blasts in the past, but the last few days, wow, it’s stretched my good nature. Tonight, instead of crawling deep into fetal, we decided to blast the other direction, head to game night.
Driving along my road home, both front windows open, the sky draws my eyes upward. This is one of those late spring days that you remember. Actually, it is just this moment, not the whole day, but you get my meaning. Ordinary yet memorable. Worth holding on to a little longer. The scene? Rolling hills all around me. Cows out to pasture. Horses too. Green fields popping with yellow dandelions. A flock of geese settled down momentarily by a reedy pond. Black birds darting from one side of the road to the other as a dare, they play, cavalier about the outcome. How close they flap by my bumper! Crabapple blossoms cover each and every branches with puffs of pale pink and even speeding past their fragrance is a wafting sweetness. All this in one flash of a moment.
On Mother’s Day, my spouse and I ventured into the woods, she with her camera, and I with a hat. Spring in Vermont fully here, bird song, rushing rivers, and myriad shades of green exploding from forest floor to tree top. Ours was a meditative stroll, moments barefoot, even a toe dipped into the icy mountain stream, feeling the great mother of us all.
May brings the days we live for in northern Vermont. Long afternoons to get outside, all of us, and even in the slanted sunlight we rejoice for this freedom. Winter, almost a distant memory as temps rise, and all around buds green and flowers red. Oh Lady Spring, thank you for all the gifts.
347… not quite 350, but awfully close. That’s the number of posts I’ve written. Hard to imagine it’s been years since the 100th and looking back I’m not sure where the time went, or where all the inspiration and thoughts came from, but I guess that’s the point of staying present. Ideas come, and if we can catch on to them and we remain in the here, they materialize. Funny thing is I always post on a Thursday, and even on the craziest of weeks, I hold myself to that deadline. I figure you all depend on my nine cents (that’s humor). This week, if you’re reading this post in real time, I’m publishing on a Friday. And it’s even a repost! Planning you see, from time to time, flies out of our hands. Something else happens instead, and when it does, we stop. Look back. Assess. Step forward. An interesting dance. Reflecting forward. Bringing forth a forgotten moment into the now. With love.
Seems like a lifetime ago when Nine Cent Girl was born… The fiery hues of autumn had just subsided into a monochromatic black and white across my Vermont landscape, fickle sunlight and arctic air drove me indoors; it was during this introspective time of the seasonal circle that my blog became a trusty beacon, illuminating my direction through what dark days lay ahead as well as brightening the unforeseen surprises dropped along my path.
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There is nothing about Italia I do not love. I know I sound like a blushing bride, all floaty and superficial, but as we traversed quickly from one region to the next, I was made drunk on the beauty, the language, the history, and certainly the food. Yes, in love, indeed.
Most, I am certain, have seen these sights before, if not with your own eyes then in photos, so there is little use of me writing another travelogue; but I do hope you come along with me all the same. This trip, two years in the making, finally underway, took a team, all smiles, from the moment we touched down until… well we’re still smiling.
I promise to tell you all about this trip of a lifetime very soon… until then, picture me here, taking in the villas, quaint towns, and the alps rising up just beyond Lake Como. xxoo