Menemsha Sunset, that is all.
Be well, and enjoy your day!
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.
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.
Winter. Just another of life’s adventures; fraught with roller coaster temperatures and seemingly insurmountable layers of snow and ice. A journey that forced us inside, inside ourselves to ponder our dreams and the roads we have already traveled. To navigate our paths, or wander serendipitously, our minds open to what could be.
Something about the near hibernation plummets me into retrospect, a desire to reroute my intended destination; to find joy in my journey, succumb to the stillness. Be. It has faded , winter; I struggle to rectify the inside with the out. I listen to melody of my past, believing the best is yet to come. Fresh beginnings, new goals, bright dreams; they are all there in the song. A song of sweet nothings. I delight in the sweet nothings now, the season slowed me enough to recognize contentment in the ordinary. The sunrise, the sunset, skyping with my husband 10 thousand miles away, puppy kisses, baby giggles, or a llama’s whiffle; these are gifts that could slip by without being noticed, aren’t they? Keep your eyes and your heart open lest you miss life’s beauty. Some of the best moments are the simplest. Be well, catch the moments and hold on tight. Jess
When was the least time you wrote, received, or even thought about writing a letter to a friend or loved one? Not an e-mail, nor text, no, a real pen to paper letter.
There are few things more cherished in my box of saves; collected moments of my life, held in my hand as only a written page sent can be. A tangible gift written with care, bringing back the day young lives intertwined not to be forgotten as lives moved on.
This young love will remain as new as the first kiss, relived each time the note is unwrapped and aged eyes are set upon it.
Letter from a dear friend, sent to bring comfort on your saddest day.
I remember the days when they were penned and sent to our hand in celebration, passion, sorrow and hope ~ like photos of the past a moment of time is captured on the page.
A thing of the past. Am I forced to accept this truth?
My Husband is half way across the globe for some weeks, I think I will pen him a note today. It will fly across the sea on ly to return home in his work weary hand.
Perhaps, I’ll write a note for you.