My summer officially starts tomorrow with the lighting of our Solstice fire. I like to think I align like that, all celestial and heavenly, but even if it’s total coincidence, I’m claiming the divine timing. Regardless of when my summer or yours starts, it is certainly time to exhale, stroll around the yard, peer into the blooms, discover what is needed to remember yourself as a creative, healthy, strong adventurous being. How about your summer goals? How do you plan to connect to you? Continue reading
Come May we are overwhelmed by fragrance and color, flowers popping everywhere. Seems like every year I suggest the same, that we all take a moment to enjoy every vibrant aspect of the season. You’ll be so glad you did.
Right out my front door the brilliance of the azalea causes me to pause, take a deep breath, observe their magnificence, and then, slowly, move into the day’s demands. For Spring is fleeting bursts of brilliant blooms that blossom for oh such a short time and then blow about in the blustery breeze vanishing before your eyes.
No matter your geography, I hope you can smell the sweet sweetness in your backyard, park, or neighborhood…From the low lying tiny blooms to the grandiose flowering trees, Spring delight is everywhere you find yourself.
I encourage you to take in the delicacy of the bloom, the aroma of the spray, and the blush of the plants photographed from my backyard and revel in this ephemeral season for a brisk moment.
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Just about at every corner of my yard, pathway into the woods, or view across town is brightened by various buds and blossoms from dandelions to trillium and everything in between. Red and blue and yellow are all back, as is every shade of green. Seriously, living with flowers is just good livin, right?
This week I’ve been drawn back in time through memory and face to face, spinning into decades ago when I didn’t focus on my future but ran with a few dealing with the very immediacy we were facing. The day to day. We were late to college, already having babies, divorcing and reconfiguring, shifting apace with the swift seasons. We leaned heavily on each other each and every hour. Generally desperate to laugh or write or cry or paint or sort out a way through life’s obstacles. Our twenties and thirties are woven into a shared crazy quilt that binded all our loose strings. Last weekend, after decades apart, we were us once more.
I know there are plenty of folks who love putzing around on their own floorboards, padding between one room to the next, chatting it up with Fluffy or Fuzzy, and although I enjoy those evenings when my sweetie and I arrive home with enough energy to listen to each other and make our time together meaningful, I love to wander too. Waking in a new sphere. Listening to bird chatter that is unfamiliar. Discover the new terrain with all that exotic flora and fauna. Perhaps this is why I am a fan of living in a region with drastic seasonal changes. Here, today, Spring is forcing its way into being, through heavy skies and cool temps, finally making green. Blooming into color. Reminding us to see the changes. To look around in the everyday.
Took a well-needed respite from this biting East Coast winter by heading as far West as the continent allows. Left a black and white Vermont in search of sunshine and green and two hours outside of LA, happily found a place made infamous by being Al Capone’s desert hideout. Three days of watching the palm fronds sway as I floated with my daughter in the healing mineral waters of Two Bunch Palms proved to be exactly the refuge I needed.
My school district is infamous for never calling a snow day. Perhaps there is some logical reason we never have one even when in every direction other schools have cancelled, but I’m not privy to any reason beyond yankee pride. Thankfully, students and teachers alike miraculously make it despite the scary road conditions or the below freezing temps. But yesterday school was called, and it felt like a gift for sure. No rising in the dark, no trying to figure out how to maneuver out of the snowdrifts before our plow guy does his job, no slippery slide hoping to stay on the road, just me in my pj’s for hours sipping tea and watching the white stuff fall fast and heavy. Been living in a snow globe for months on end but today felt like a peek into a wondrous winter wonderland.