I wore my 'We Will Prevail" tee shirt all day long. I am a very patriotic sort. There are all kinds of red, white and blue images dotting our interior and exterior scapes.
A crazy storm blew in around 4:30 am, shattering the fragile peony blooms. Consequently, the house is awash in color and fragrance. It's just wrong to leave those blossoms strewn on the ground!
My favorite peeps came over for food -
When this child smiles the sun peeks out from any cloud, but there is no competition - she is THAT luminary! And my mom, a new widow - making her way - simply extraordinary in her 80's -
uh oh! Caught in the middle of a fruit salad! Mom, you are gorgeous and a complete power of example to your family. We are making our way into this strange new land without our patriarch.
As Father's Day approaches we steady ourselves and think of better times. For me, the old nightmares return in a relentless parade - my father, alone in his hospital bed, left for so many days, weeks, months, even years, in a nursing home - slowly freezing into place. He was a veteran and I think of him today. And always. And then I remember that life persists and goes forward and that the proof is in my back yard -
Where girls and dogs congregate and smiles are plenty. Reasons to be grateful.
Those lost to us are never far from view -
Scott and his brothers are taking turns housing 'dad' - he's already been on a golf trip this year with a fishing excursion to follow. This is what we have - the memories, the happy thoughts, the backward glimpse of what was. Scott and I are learning to make our way through this terrible terrain. We are discovering that it is not only ok to weep, it is cathartic. So we spend more time sitting together at the end of the day, speaking the quiet truth of a good day, a not-so good day.
May your Memorial Day be memorable. With the good over-riding the not-so-good!
Glass that glows in the half light of the barn - borne of sand and heat, translucent and somewhat ominous.
My friend Lally and I have made tentative plans to meet for shopping after the Rapture. And Jelli-donut has agreed to allow me to carry the bags of yarn we're both gonna need in the Hereafter. So it looks like we're all set. (pause)
My RC background barely allows me to joke about this stuff. We weren't versed in hair tugging/rapture as pint-sized catholics, but there was an awful lot of ring kissing, incense burning, genuflecting, sign-of-the-Crossing, and Saturday night confession. Not to mention empty growling Sunday stomaches before the Host was passed. We all wanted to believe in something - we all continue our search for signs in the universe. And as for me, I'd like to believe that this uncivilized crowd will go the way of the dinosaur- with a slight twist - that we just might smarten up before its time to bend over and grab our collective ankles.
On the way home from my mom's there was a motorcycle fatality. Traffic was completely backed up for miles and my fire fighter son, who had to respond to this tragedy, was able to send word to take another route. It made me think of a song that I've always loved - James Taylor singing 'Home by Another Way'. I tried to embed the Youtube version for you all, but failed. Go and have a listen yourself - http://youtu.be/YI9ORNri7hA (sorry, I'll try harder IF there is a next time)
"Steer clear of royal welcomes
Avoid a big to-do
A king that would slaughter the innocents
Will not cut a deal for you ...."
I am reading an important book, one which endorses the notion of avoiding royal welcomes. In fact, this author is making an attractive case for going out, getting lost, finding oneself. Taking another way home.
Listen to this- "Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That's where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go." She asks the question - "How will you go about finding that thing the nature of which is totally unknown to you?" I'm having a hard time putting this one down. I hope that I can finish before the hair-tugging commences.
There were a few things that I didn't get to cross off the Rapture Bucket List -
I meant to weed the east garden and get rid of the old grasses.
The front porch needed painting and that didn't happen either. I DID spend a lot of quality time with Jack Russell, who is recovering from dental surgery - quite an ordeal for such an elderly fellow.
He's pushing his luck - carrying this post-surgical thing a little too far. You are looking at the sheers blown across the sofa from an opened window - he's claimed them as part of his bedding. The sofa is permanently lost to me. It has DOG written all over it. Jack Nirvana.
Anyway, I took a road less travelled this evening. I thought about the poor luckless soul who lost his life on a motorcycle today, I thought about his mother and how this irrevocable event will alter her existence. I thought about my brave son, my lovely daughter. And I saw an Indigo Bunting fly across the back country road, its blue intensity disappearing into the thicket. I swear to God.
It's hard to get out of bed on these dark rainy mornings.
We live cyclical lives - or, at least, I do. When things seem vaguely familiar I do not think - 'deja vu' - instead, I go to the source, the cyclical nature of life, of MY life, and am satisfied.
I am dreaming again. Frightening, desolate landscapes emerge - fraught with the feeling of helplessness and loss and neglect. I am learning the things that I need to know. I am reinventing myself - yet again.
Sometimes I find myself caught up and crashing - a branch flung into a surging river - propelled headlong into a merciless current. The rapids eventually spill into a quiet place where waters are gentle and still and one has time to collect oneself. In this place it becomes clear that I am lost in old behaviors, lulled into expecting a new outcome. A sea change is in the works.
Before long I may ask you to meet me in another place - a Blogger-less place. Stay tuned, if you will.
Today I treated myself to the first pedicure of the season. I enlisted my new salon socks.
The Korean ladies at the nail salon were very interested in my creation! They wanted their very own pair of pedicure socks! We may not understand one another's language, but I have found that I can always communicate with women when we are discussing knitting! When I examine the care and devotion that is given to my winter feet, I realize that we are not at all different in our pursuit of excellence! This realization makes for generous tipping! I want the pedicurists to know how much I value their work. Perhaps I'll make socks all around - how wonderful!
Lilacs. Mother's Days cards. A swatch being knitted. This life seems difficult, but miraculous.
'cos I've got nothing in the way of completed projects! Doing lots of process knitting and quilt-making dreaming, and sewing back-sliding. In short, I have this damn DAY job which continuously gets in the way of my REAL life, my fiber life.
Things are happening outdoors - in abundance.
The mysotis is absolutely prolific - growing in places never before seen. Forget-me-not...spilling out into the walk ways of the herb garden.
Their heart-stopping blue faces remind me that life might be taking a turn for the better. And I am ready. Ready for some good news.
The sugar snap peas arrive like clock work. Planted just after St. Patrick's Day, they announce themselves in early April and get busy sending out tendrils - reaching to climb the fence I've provided.
The apple trees are wearing their best lacy petticoats -
Sunday in the middle of the week.
Knitters of socks know this truth - ours is an addictive hobby! To knit socks means to take a vacation from sweaters and shawls and scarves and the like - a calculated risk because we KNOW new patterns will emerge while we are hunched over our impossibly tiny dpn's, but we DON'T. CARE. We MUST finish these little gems that will cover our feet in mournfully GORGEOUS fiber. Herein lies the problem. Indie dyers. They are producing sock weight yarns that are TO DIE FOR. Whether they are offering cashmere or milk or soy or merino blends, it hardly matters. Our ears perk up when they list their latest wonders, and we must have some. We will devour and savour these fibers - postponing the car payment, the rent. Insanity abounds. In a fit of compassion, I turn off the computer. The sock clubs will not wither without me... the socks camps will not fold for want of my admission cheque.
But how can you give something so beautiful the Silent Treatment?
This one came with a tiny potpourri AND a packet of Eucalan for its bath!!!! And some of its proceeds will go to Japanese Relief. So it's all good. Right?
But ... right behind it came another - one with an insect name ...
What IS this green stuff that falls from the maples and coats everything in sight? Arboriculture was never my strong suit.
It is annoying and gorgeous all in the same breath. This is our green time. There are more shades of green than one could ever grasp out there - on a May lawn, a flower bed, an unturned garden.
Vivid. Alive. Green is the color of life.
The rhubarb is ready for picking. I took an enormous bag into work and left it on the back table for people to help themselves. Rhubarb Crisp. Stewed Rhubarb. Strawberry Rhubarb Pie. Rhubarb Compote.
Now that's a cute dog - and he looks good in green! I've been knitting in green - "Celery" Sock Candy by Blue Moon Fiber Arts.
I LOVE these socks - really truly LOVE them! What IS it about socks? Little works of art. Another view -
Cushy plump goodness - cotton and elite. Sometimes splitty, but forgivably so.
Harley and I were walking up in the back yesterday, enjoying the fine air, the good view. On top of the compost pile, waving brightly in the soft breeze, was an explosion of color - tulips! Tulips that had never been planted on this property, tulips which had made the trip in, carried on an unknown source-
They positively glow. And yes, there was much progress on the piece for Apifera. The banner is 98% completed - I just want to add a little more bead embellishment.
It's a banner rich in symbolism - I am hoping that it warms Katherine's heart.
One day I hope to visit her farm and meet her family of elderly donkeys, goats, chickens, etc. Until then, I'll continue to live my vicarious farm life through her blog!
