The sun has finally decided to shine today, although it has been snowing most of the morning. In fact, there is a pretty significant layer of snow outside. I would love to go outdoors and take photos, but I have been ill and so breathing in the cold air -- even through a scarf -- is of no appeal to me. Still, I looked out the window and thought about how peaceful it seems. Most people are probably tucked away at home or at work, so there's not a lot of activity; at least, not on my street. This is the perfect day to be introspective and spend time planning some next moves with my life and my business; to ponder how I might act to improve my various relationship roles -- mother, daughter, grandmother, wife. There are others, but those are the primary ones that concern me. Can I just be still and in a patient, waiting state like the trees and bushes that scrub against my windows? We will see. Meanwhile, I can also start thinking about what I might want to plant in the garden next year. There is a LOT of work to be done to restore it, as the last few years have been exhausting and I have neglected the yard somewhat. I will keep you posted on my garden planning. In the interim, I'm hoping you will have a chance to have some thoughtful solitude today, too, and that I will soon be able to get outdoors and take some winter photos.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
It Really Has Been A While
Well, hello! It really has been a while since I last posted on this blog, but that is largely because I had a problem with the domain name that I did not know how to fix. I do plan on taking this one up again, but not tonight. I just wanted to pop in and make sure that everything is okay and that the blog is up and ready for my posts again.
Cheers for now!
Cheers for now!
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Up and running again!
I am so excited that this blog is up and running again. I don't have anything in particular that I want to post right this second. I just wanted to let out a little verbal leap of joy that I can begin reposting here. Yay! Joy! I will be sure to start updating here soon!
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Oh, wow!
Oh, wow! I don't believe my blog is still active. We will see after I click on "Publish Post."
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Woodlouse Spider
I smashed a Woodlouse Spider today after my spouse told me it was a termite. I feel terrible that I looked it up on the Internet after I killed it instead of before. I am generally very tolerant of bugs in the garden, but I for whatever reason that one was giving me the creeps. I still feel like bugs crawling on me. But all of that aside, I feel bad about what I did and my conscience is bothering me.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Opening the Way
I have not posted anything to my blog in while. I know that is a cardinal sin of blogging, especially if you want your blog to be read. But, I think not hearing someone speak for a while is refreshing. To me, it means they have a life, which they are engaged in living, and they have taken a pause to gather some new experiences.
The last time I published, I was excited about planting the tulips. I didn't make it outside that day and wound up waiting. This past Saturday, on a rare-of-late sunny day whim, I donned some tennies, a hat, and a sweater and cleaned up the garden beds.
There had been a freeze the night before, so all of the south facing dahlias were dangling limply and oddly looking both wet and icy at the same time. They were covered with buds, but I knew their season was over so I sheared them all. On the east side of the house, I gathered the last of the garden fruits, that is, exactly eleven tomatos, two small eggplants, and two turning red bell peppers. There were also three fat, spiky cucumbers. The cherry tomato plant was also covered with small, green tomatos which I left behind because they were weeping from the prior night's freeze. A few other items were left on the plants, too, which I cut down and left to return to the ground.
On the other side of the house -- the west side -- I pulled out several of the gladiolas that had bloomed and were now laying wildly about, some of them pushing other plants in various directions. The glads did not bloom as long or as hardily this year as last; maybe I planted them too late afterall. In place of the dahlias and the all along the west and north sides of the house, I planted tulips. Maybe I had a hundred bulbs total, but I don't know if they will all bloom. Last year, I planted one here and one there and another over there, so they stood lonely in the ground like strangers on the street. This year, I planted them in groups. I hope they bloom in the spring; they will be so pretty.
I was thinking about how this planting and waiting is so exciting and peace giving and easy in the garden. Even though so many things can go wrong -- not enough sun; not enough rain; too much wind; a late freeze; poor soil; and so on -- I have a faith that the plants will come. If not all of them, enough of them will grow to make my efforts worth while. And all winter long, I just wait. I know that I have planted the seeds or the bulbs and they will come. Patience is imposed on me. If only waiting for daily connections, periodic occasions, or life events could be so peace giving. If planting the seeds for them could be so exciting and full of firm expectation. If only the patience imposed on me could be as easy . . . maybe I would be more content and more settled. What do you think?
The last time I published, I was excited about planting the tulips. I didn't make it outside that day and wound up waiting. This past Saturday, on a rare-of-late sunny day whim, I donned some tennies, a hat, and a sweater and cleaned up the garden beds.
There had been a freeze the night before, so all of the south facing dahlias were dangling limply and oddly looking both wet and icy at the same time. They were covered with buds, but I knew their season was over so I sheared them all. On the east side of the house, I gathered the last of the garden fruits, that is, exactly eleven tomatos, two small eggplants, and two turning red bell peppers. There were also three fat, spiky cucumbers. The cherry tomato plant was also covered with small, green tomatos which I left behind because they were weeping from the prior night's freeze. A few other items were left on the plants, too, which I cut down and left to return to the ground.
On the other side of the house -- the west side -- I pulled out several of the gladiolas that had bloomed and were now laying wildly about, some of them pushing other plants in various directions. The glads did not bloom as long or as hardily this year as last; maybe I planted them too late afterall. In place of the dahlias and the all along the west and north sides of the house, I planted tulips. Maybe I had a hundred bulbs total, but I don't know if they will all bloom. Last year, I planted one here and one there and another over there, so they stood lonely in the ground like strangers on the street. This year, I planted them in groups. I hope they bloom in the spring; they will be so pretty.
I was thinking about how this planting and waiting is so exciting and peace giving and easy in the garden. Even though so many things can go wrong -- not enough sun; not enough rain; too much wind; a late freeze; poor soil; and so on -- I have a faith that the plants will come. If not all of them, enough of them will grow to make my efforts worth while. And all winter long, I just wait. I know that I have planted the seeds or the bulbs and they will come. Patience is imposed on me. If only waiting for daily connections, periodic occasions, or life events could be so peace giving. If planting the seeds for them could be so exciting and full of firm expectation. If only the patience imposed on me could be as easy . . . maybe I would be more content and more settled. What do you think?
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Hooray!
At last! The sun has finally returned!
Today I will plant the tulips and participate in a cosmic convergence of last years bulbs, today's work, and next year's glorious blooms, merging the past, present, and future in one activity. I believe that there is an invisible lifestream that flows throughout the universe. I am like a living raft flowing along with the sometimes calm, sometimes swift current. My acts of conduct are the rudders I use to help control my direction. When the current is calm, there is a hidden danger of laziness and I must challenge my self to paddle forward. When the current is swift, there is a hidden danger of overconfidence and I must use all my skill, knowledge, ability, and determination to maintain a measure of control over my direction. Any singular act of conduct -- no matter how small -- affects me. In accordance with the holographic paradigm, the entire universe is affected, too.
There is a destiny that exists by means of the natural laws of our environment. Fire is hot and can incinerate. Water is wet and can saturate. Wind dries and can desiccate and obliterate. If I throw myself into the fire, I am destined to be burned. If I jump into the water, I am destined to get wet. If I stand naked in the wind, I am destined to get cold. But I have the power to change many outcomes by examining my surroundings, analyzing my options, and making informed choices. I move my glass away from the edge of the table; I wear my safety belt when I drive the car; I remove myself from bad association. I keep on asking: What should I do next? What can I give? How can I serve? Is there something that I can share?
Even the singular, simple, humble act of planting is a giving service of life and beauty. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to choose. Living consciously, thus, my life now can be better and better. As for all the rest that is beyond my control, I will wait on YHVH.
Today I will plant the tulips and participate in a cosmic convergence of last years bulbs, today's work, and next year's glorious blooms, merging the past, present, and future in one activity. I believe that there is an invisible lifestream that flows throughout the universe. I am like a living raft flowing along with the sometimes calm, sometimes swift current. My acts of conduct are the rudders I use to help control my direction. When the current is calm, there is a hidden danger of laziness and I must challenge my self to paddle forward. When the current is swift, there is a hidden danger of overconfidence and I must use all my skill, knowledge, ability, and determination to maintain a measure of control over my direction. Any singular act of conduct -- no matter how small -- affects me. In accordance with the holographic paradigm, the entire universe is affected, too.
There is a destiny that exists by means of the natural laws of our environment. Fire is hot and can incinerate. Water is wet and can saturate. Wind dries and can desiccate and obliterate. If I throw myself into the fire, I am destined to be burned. If I jump into the water, I am destined to get wet. If I stand naked in the wind, I am destined to get cold. But I have the power to change many outcomes by examining my surroundings, analyzing my options, and making informed choices. I move my glass away from the edge of the table; I wear my safety belt when I drive the car; I remove myself from bad association. I keep on asking: What should I do next? What can I give? How can I serve? Is there something that I can share?
Even the singular, simple, humble act of planting is a giving service of life and beauty. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to choose. Living consciously, thus, my life now can be better and better. As for all the rest that is beyond my control, I will wait on YHVH.
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