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 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.
Life is balance.
We strive for balance yet balance is all around us.
We struggle between effort and rest, between night and day, between yes and no.
What will work and what won’t.
Do we need to have more quiet, more noise, more movement, more stillness?
Do you find balance with travel?
Do you remain grounded?
What keeps you happy and healthy?
Me? A Sunday night drive in the country.
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.
Have you ever noticed, it can appear some are floating on life’s river.
Yet, upon a closer look they are only appear still…
Is it so bad to be still?
Is it so bad not to be actively chasing?
Chasing careers, chasing financial success, chasing recognition, chasing bigger, chasing better; only to catch it to find it not enough.
Can a successful life be one with out notoriety or fame?
Can we still quietly achieve, not announcing every achievement to the world?
Maybe this holds my smoldering distain for social media, where every undertaking is announced, every exploit a plea for approval.
It is ok to be.
Can you know you matter.
Recognition is a basic human need, I know this.
But is this need now on steroids? Has this need become more demanding?
My thoughts offer more questions than answers.
Can success be contentment?
It is okay to stop paddling so hard; it is okay to savor what you have achieved.
To listen. To feel. To enjoy. To savor.
Attend to where l your heart takes you next.
There may be contentment in still waters.
If I must admit it; I am but a creative soul who may be hard to understand, impossible to second-guess, and known to follow the voice of instinct that no-one else can hear…not to mention understand.
My life can not be torn from the pages of a story book, it is much more complex than that. I am a tear stained, giggle filled , tragically heartbroken, happily ever-after. To put the words of my life on paper would draw pause and speculation; can this truly be?
I am that girl who believes in guardian angels, magic, hard work, tenacity, and family.
I believe in love, the Lord,forever friends, and miracles.
I know that no life is easy and that the past is the past.
I know that working for something makes it worth having.
I know that nothing is free and everything is complicated.
Change is the only constant.
I know too much is never enough, hope is eternal, happiness is relative to your thoughts.
People should be loved for who they are.
Confidence is fragile. Quitting is not an option, but you must know when it is over.
I know my strengths and my weaknesses.
I know I can not live a scripted life, I am far too much of a wanderer of spirit. Always seeking.
I am me. I can. I will. End of story.