Menemsha Sunset, that is all.
Be well, and enjoy your day!
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 love the sea, I love a rural landscape. I love quaint village charm.
Martha’s Vineyard is sprinkled lavishly with the irresistable allure of its seafaring past, interwoven with farmsteads, artists, and unpretentious beauty.
This island is not trying to be anything more than it is; leaving aside the germane need tourists may have for t-shirts, arcades, and the stipulation to be regaled, this, this island is honest.
The roads (other than the main highways) are dirt, rutted, and furrowed.
The fishermen have this north-east island life hardships etched into their face, divulging her secret struggles, with the weather, with time, and changing earth.
Verdant farms dot the mid-island landscape. Farmer stands, and markets offer a seasonal supply of freshness. Sustainability and a natural approach to life and farming are central.
Days are slow, they are meant to be. Savor the fresh salty air, the warm ocean breeze. Take a moment, simply feel the suns gentle rays.
Stand on her cliffs and wonder.
Imagine winter’s lonely nights as light keeper.
Be stirred by the wonder of spring’s arrival.
Contemplate memories of childhood, of sandcastles, starfish, and shells.
It is a place bursting with sustenance for the soul.
But, home,well home is where I thrive, the hills, the green fields, pastoral scenes, the barns, and the people.
All it takes to appreciate what you have is to be without it for awhile.
Hope you are well,
It is harder for us to see the hidden pain, the physical disabilities, and ailments are easily noticed.
Personal courage is almost always ambiguous.
Bravery and courage can be seen at every turn, if we are looking.
Courage may be moving on alone, to protect those left behind, and living with the pain of a decision made.
Bravery may be waking up every morning with thrashing reality of love lost.
Courage is stepping away from abuse to persevere.
Bravery is the strength to walk away — not toward anything, no where to go, no one to go to, just away.
Courage is endurance, to live; in the fog of reality.
Bravery is stepping back in to bring love home.
Courage is facing that demon head on.
Bravery is knowing he is just around the corner.
This kind of courage is rarely impulsive. Nor does it emerge from nowhere.
Whether you have survived a trauma or not, the psyche is still a dark forest of scars and tender spots. Each relationship is intricacy piled upon intricacy, fertile ground for misunderstanding, separation, perseverance, reunion and joy.
My life was: Stay focused on staying busy.
I survive as I always have…I survived by keeping my emotions in check – by maintaining my composure and tucking it all away. I managed to stay under the radar, skating through without anyone truly remembering I was here….oh, to stand out would have been unthinkable. Life in my world, was designed to stay busy, less time to dwell…You can’t control what you, are not responsible for…so you carry on, life carries on. I guess you just don’t pay attention. I think you’re too busy attempting to fade…until one day, you realize; I don’t need to hide, I don’t need to keep my head down. I have survived!
My husband and children are awesome; my life full of hope and love.
A life clearly marked with moments of struggle and overcoming.
Courage, determination, pride…that’s what little girls are made of.
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.
Do you ever say things, but they didn’t come out exactly as you had planned? One of my daughters, Jenn (actually both) did often as a child, she mixed 2 sayings into one – often. Rocket surgery was but one; still makes me chuckle.
Usually used when I was helping with math homework. “It’s not rocket surgery, Momma”;. Immediately followed by, “When will Daddy be home”?
My other daughter, Juli; well, if she didn’t know the words, she would just make up her own. Once she officiated a marriage, she “married” my husband and I, at age 4. Complete with a gown she hand crafted, a very creative soul she is.
It went something like this:
Howie, do you take Jessica to be your awfully bledded wife? As long as she lives.
Precious she was. (still is)
When our youngest was born, she was certain we should watch her “extension cord” carefully. Always the caring sister.
As I was driving home from the dental hygiene clinic today (Jenn is a student hygienist), I was thinking how fast she has grown; and how funny she was as a child, though she was sure she wasn’t funny at all. She would try to memorize jokes, from the elephant joke book bought at the school book sale, in an effort to be as funny as her older siblings.
Juli was a natural princess actress and wasn’t about to lose her crown, she didn’t find Jenn amusing most days…on the other hand, Juli’s rendition of Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President ‘ was a hard act to follow.
Aah, the memories they provided.