Oh, look! He’s coming to see me.
And Mamma said, “No,No, No!”
Having and making friends as an adult is different. As a child, it seems to happen naturally, almost organically, wouldn’t you say? As children we’re thrown together in heap, and left to sort ourselves out. “You like gymnastics?” “Me too!” Instant friends.
I have been blessed with a few very good friends over the years, for that I am grateful. But, I found myself sitting and wondering, why was I was sitting alone on a beautiful saturday afternoon. I soon came to the conclusion, I only had myself to blame for that one. I have chosen a life that requires me to be near home all if not most of the time, There are animals to care for, gardens to tend, stories to write and paintings to be painted.
These are not things you can do anywhere. Granted, I could slip away from time to time. (I will work on that, maybe)
I still feel the warmth of friendship, though I may not see them as often; lives change and family and responsibility lead us in different directions. I suppose you could say we have grown apart. Grown separately, maybe. Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that.
As Jane Austin once said, “There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”
My life is full, and I have no complaints, I enjoy my company.
Time and commitment, now…this, this is truly my dilemma.
A friend commented on yesterday’s blog that art sometimes brings music to her thoughts. I smiled a little bit, “cuz as I was downloading these photos, Doris Day started singing, well sort of, I started singing, hoping to sound like Doris.
I thought I sounded wonderful; Diesel started howling, Lexi hid in the bathroom, and Finnegan covered his head.
Richard just asked to be picked up, he thought I must have been in pain or something, I guess.
Here are some of the lyrics in case you want to sing along.
By the light of the silvery moon
I want to spoon
To my honey, I croon love’s tune
Honey moon, keep a-shinin’ in June
Your silvery beams will bring love’s dreams
We’ll be cuddling’ soon (my favorite part)
By the light of the moon.
By the light, not the dark, but the light
Of the silvery moon, not the sun but the moon
I wanna spoon, not croon, but spoon
to my honey I’ll croon love’s tune
Honeymoon, honeymoon, honeymoon
Keep a-shinin’ in June
Your silvery beam will bring love’s dreams
We’ll be cuddling’ soon
By the silvery moon
To be quite honest I only knew about a sentence and a half…I was delighted to hear the cuddling’ part.
Now, back to work I must go; the kale is gathered chopped and frozen, the last of the peas are shucked and frozen, the garden is weeded, a painting is nearly completed, finishing up some of my new obsession, strawberry honey preserves. I’ll share the recipe with you here: strawberry yumminess.
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.
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.
I have been crazy busy, trying to get the gardens back in shape after the long, cold winter, and two seasons had passed by with little to no attention.
What a job.
I sheared a friend’s llamas and the goats are sheared; of course today is 50*. I’m certain they’re questioning my motives right about now.
With a life so busy and full of to do lists, it’s easy to miss the pocket-sized moments of beauty and wonder, isn’t it?
I need reminding, from time to time, to lift my head from my daily tasks ~ listen to the birds chirp their own particular warble…
Notice that one cloud, as it moves past the sun, beams radiating warmth on your upturned face.
Let nature take hold of your soul, breathe her in, fill your heart.
Indian Lore, Celebrate Earth Day a day late.
There was an old lady, from the Cree tribe, named Eyes of Fire, who prophesied that one day, because of the (man’s) Yo-ne-gis’ greed, there would come a time, when the fish would die in the streams, the birds would fall from the air, the waters would be blackened, and the trees would no longer be.
There would come a time when the “keepers of the legend, stories, culture rituals, and myths, and all the ancient customs” would be needed to restore us to health. They would be mankinds’ key to survival, they were the “Warriors of the Rainbow”.
They would tell them why our earth is sick, they would show the peoples that this (the Great Spirit), is full of love and understanding, and teach them how to make the Earth or “Elohi” beautiful again. They would teach of Harmony among people in all four corners of the Earth.
Once again, they would be able to feel joy in solitude and in councils. They would be free of petty jealousies and love all mankind as their brothers, regardless of color, race or religion. They would feel happiness enter their hearts, and become as one with the entire human race. Their hearts would be pure and radiate warmth, understanding and respect for all mankind, Nature, and the Great Spirit.
They would once again fill their minds, hearts, souls, and deeds with the purest of thoughts. They would seek the beauty of the Master of Life — the Great Spirit! They would find strength and beauty and the solitudes of life. Their children would once again be able to run free and enjoy the treasures of nature.
The rivers would again run clear, the forests be abundant and beautiful, the animals and birds would be replenished. The powers of the plants and animals would again be respected and conservation of all that is beautiful would become a way of life.
The poor, sick and needy would be cared for by their brothers and sisters of the Earth. These practices would again become a part of their daily lives. The leaders of the people would be chosen in the old way ~ by those whose actions spoke the loudest. Those who demonstrated their love, wisdom, and courage and those who showed that they could and did work for the good of all, would be chosen as the leaders or Chiefs.
They would be chosen by their “quality” and not the amount of money they had obtained. Like the thoughtful and devoted “Ancient Chiefs”, they would understand the people with love, and see that their young were educated with the love and wisdom of their surroundings.
They would show them that miracles can be accomplished to heal this world of its ills, and restore it to health and beauty. The tasks of these “Warriors of the Rainbow” are many and great.
There will be terrifying mountains of ignorance to conquer and they shall find prejudice and hatred. They must be dedicated, unwavering in their strength, and strong of heart. They will find willing hearts and minds that will follow them on this road of returning earth to beauty.
It will be with this knowledge that we shall find our “Key to our Survival”.
A grey day with a beautiful soft rain, a day to be productive ~ indoors. Reluctantly.
Today’s rain is the perfect kind, tiny fine droplets, causing everything it touches to be canopied with gossamer mist.
Earlier in the morning, I stood filling the coffee pot , gazing out at the garden. A chubby robin sat perched upon the grape arbor. He shook himself to be free of the moisture and he was surrounded by droplets larger than were falling from the sky. I wish I had my camera in hand.
The peas are in the garden*; it’s a perfectly timed rain.
I’ll add more Chard and Spinach this afternoon, and the lettuces tomorrow, they like the cooler weather.
*If the thunder-storm in the early hours of the morning didn’t wash them away, that is.
The dogs are sleeping in the kitchen, soaking in the silence.
I better be moving on, I have dresses to be altered and pants to be hemmed.
Be well, enjoy your day.