My blues have gone.
But, now there are Yellows!
Never entirely ~ Wordless Wednesday.
“Dare to be naive.”
– Buckminster Fuller
I have dreams, I have hopes, and I have aspirations.
Can I wait around for some fairy Godmother to to tap me with her wand?
Nah, probably not; I’ve got things to do, time is awastin’, and I’m not getting any younger.
Because I don’t speak of these things much, (until I am ready to share); it may appear to others that I just jump into things, willy-nilly. This could not be further from the truth, I research ad-nauseam. Make a plan, then research some more. (Are you nauseous yet?) I am almost ready! We’ve spoken to our local LDC and are set for our second meeting.
The Llamas are excited. Really they are.
The goats delirious. Can’t you just see the excitement in their eyes?
No? Look deeper.
…and the dogs, well, the dogs could give a hoot.
There are no balls, bones, or games involved, so they just choose to ignore the happenings around here.
They pretend they can’t see the yarn wrapped around their paws, in their water dish, and atop their heads. They lie on top of fabric scraps; try to take freshly stitched sweaters for their own, try to wear cowls, and make chew toys of thread spools.
It is going to be lots of work, lots of fun!
And the best part; I get to do it all in our freshly(to be) built barn.
The dogs really do like that part.
Alright then, let’s get to work.
Uhmm, where are you all going? We’ve got work to do.
Ah, well. There must be something in self-reliance.
“If you are a dreamer come in If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer If you’re a pretender com sit by my fire For we have some flax golden tales to spin Come in! Come in!” ― Shel Silverstein
Be well, Jess
How much do you try to fit in those little shreds and patches of time between the usual things to be done.
I tossed the laundry in to the basket, grabbed the bowl of pins. loaded up the washer with the next load then headed out to hang them in the sun and breeze.
Walking back from the clothes line out back near the far pasture; I notice some weeds in the garden. I stop to pull the few I noticed; as I pulled, I noticed more. The seeing, pulling, and shifting went on for some time. My back was sore, then I looked at the clock, I had been at it for 3/4 of an hour. I had missed the rinse cycle on the washer, no softener in this load.
What continues to astonish me about a garden is that you can walk past it in a hurry to get to the next task at hand, see something wrong, stop to fix it, and emerge an hour or two later breathless, contented, and wondering what on earth happened.
Do fill the cracks of time so tight you couldn’t slip paper between the minutes? Do you accomplish more when you think you don’t have enough time?
I have a list of things to be done a mile long. This list seems to the should haves, at the end of the day I wonder why I didn’t hem those pants (sorry Mike), why didn’t I trim the dog, (sorry Finn), why didn’t I trim his hair, (sorry honey).
“What may be done at any time will be done at no time.”
– Scottish Proverb
I did however: weed the garden, hang the laundry, help Jenn with her knitting, do the dishes, make the beds, vacuum the rugs, feed the animals, throw the ball for Lexi, clean the chicken coupe, plan dinner, write this post, respond to emails, and its only noon!
“It is not enough to be busy, so are the ants. The question is, what are we busy about?”
– Henry David Thoreau
I have much to learn.
Walking and conversation seem to go hand in hand. Inspired conversation, thoughts from deep within, the longer the walk the deeper the conversation.
I think I could write an interesting memoir of outstanding walks I have taken with others, during which togetherness was not only shared but settled tenderly into the landscape of memory.
When I was a child, my sisters and I used to walk, from the busstops to home, through parks, across fields and up and down hills.
We talked of many things, some meaningful (to very young children) and some completely outrageous, and quite a few very tall stories emerged on those walks.
Whatever the content of the talking, those walks and those conversations remain important memories for me of my attachment to my family, and to nature.
We used to stop along the way to look for Lady Slippers, a protected native orchid. We found a few. We found Poison Ivy more often.
The content of these walks have become blurred, now they’re more a painting in my memory. There, As a whole, no particular parts. Cherished.
“As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.”
– Henry David Thoreau
Get out there, it’s good medicine.
I am the walkingist girl around, we (my husband or daughter and I) try to put in 6 miles a day, though we don’t always achieve this; weather has her own say in things.
It has been quite a summer, I don’t feel as though I am any further ahead than when I began.
I do suppose, our crazy, busy, complicated lives are very different, though much the same.
We try to keep it simple; life is a lot.
A lot of dreams. A lot of work. A lot of family and friends. A lot of expectations and a lot responsibilities.
Inevitably there is a lot of juggling.
The juggling game changes from time to time, it moves from juggling your own needs with the needs of sick family member; their needs take momentary precedence.
The juggling changes when a loved one enters your life anew. You welcome the ball changes.
Life is never enough.
Never enough time.
It flies by, try as you might to capture it, holding it close so that it doesn’t slip through your fingers…then it’s gone.
Years pass, you hardly notice.
Wish as you might, they are gone.
Never enough energy. There is always one more task to be completed.
Just when you think you’ve reached capacity, another undertaking manifests. You find a new spark.
Would it be conjecture to say you feel the same?
Accomplishing more than you ever thought possible.
Daring to dream of that which should be unattainable.