Really?

What might next year bring?

The last little dragonfly... maybe it will return next year or maybe it won't. Delicate creatures - you just never know what they encounter. This little guy was small when he arrived in early spring. I just didn't have enough blooms then to keep him hanging around.

About mid-summer I noticed this black and white dragonfly. I'd never seen one like this. Indeed I almost missed seeing it at all because of the wing transparency. It practically faded into the background of my concrete wall. Braver than the blue colored one, I could approach and watch him for a long time. I wonder if I'll get a last glimpse of a black and white one before Autumn really kicks in?

There's another "fly" I once observed. Maybe I should call it a "flyby". It was the briefest, but scariest moment, ("what the heck is that?").  I don't know any details but it happened within a few days of the 2001 September World Trade Center event. Years later I came across it on the Internet; it was called a drone. Haven't seen one since and that's okay with me. 

Are you a nature watcher? Do you like to keep your eyes on the sky? 

A New Season?

There must something I can do. When too many days appear the same, I wonder what talent I might still have. I hate the word "disabled". It has a tendency to impress others with the idea that I'm a cast off. That's not the feeling I have; yet things I used to do are challenging, at times impossible. Sadness is the enemy I combat when thinking on the past. Still I'm encouraged that there is something, and I seek it.

People say, "don't look back," and yet the very thing that gave me past happiness might simply need adjustment. I take care not to limit myself in thought. Physically I can push along some days without injuring myself. It's been a matter of knowing when to stop, rest, return to a project. I was diagnosed "disabled" in 1998. Since then I've come to know the things that have to be avoided. Where would I be without common sense?

So I'm exploring every venue that comes to mind. I welcome any thoughts or ideas from others. Hey just throw something out there; you never know.

Here's hoping your day is filled with direction!

This Autumn

The days of heat wind down, and even though I enjoyed the summer's events ~  this jacket I wear this morning, reminds me that Autumn has begun.

Yesterday's sunset of blue and peach, a clear revealing of the coming beauty ~  is welcomed as the changes arrive in all splendor.

My life seems to flow as this new Autumn does ~
a time of longing for warm embraces, yet a time of cooling calm.

The land I walk has furnished me with pears and purple grapes ~
a summer treasure that gives way to the soon harvesting of walnuts.

I am blessed, in spite of the trials and tribulations encountered ~
summer slowly morphs into another season,
one I've always loved best ~ Autumn.

The Old Farmer's Almanac:   In 2014, the autumnal equinox brings the fall season to the Northern Hemisphere on: September 22 at 10:29 P.M. EDT. I think I felt it arrive!!

Freedom Through Simplicity

Oh dear, I stare at a blank computer screen, and feel the same anxiety creeping up: what to write? Let's get on with it and try to have some fun in a lesson-learning world. After all when I'm not learning, I repeat the same damn mistakes; like sitting here waiting for the computer to 'give me words'.

My favorite read right now comes from E. Stanley Jones. He writes: "The successes of life are often the simplicities of life." Then he shares a situation of a British Ambassador's wife. She sent a request to reserve a front row seat at one of Mr. Jones' meetings. It was explained that an ambassador's wife should never sit with anyone in front of her. Mr. Jones says, "What a complication to live by!  I could sit anywhere; I was free! Bondage to prestige is bondage." Thank you Mr. Jones!

Writing has been far from my thoughts. The whole Internet world has taken a back seat, being replaced by the love of being in the fresh air. I simply cancelled my reservation for a front row seat by my laptop. I would visit all of my favorite blogs, but even commenting meant my fingers had to touch the keys. I'm not sure if I can adequately explain what I mean... so I'll fore go it. I'm here at this moment and there's something to write.

You might think it was a time for me to 'soul search' and that's workable. A time to invest in the subtle nourishment I get from digging in the garden, certainly helped. Either way or any way, love of something bigger than myself was so 'knocking at my door'. How often I can get caught up in self reliance. In fact my own inadequacy has served a better cup. My path runneth over!

Yesterday a friend and I gathered grapes from an old vine that has returned to life! The grapes are dark purple and are so sweet. Nothing my hands did revived that vine. I munched on a pear from a nearby tree while she plucked grapes from the higher branches. I failed to mention the crazy grape vine was climbing up a tree for more sunlight. There are still lots of clusters to ripen. The pears need another week - hopefully the squirrels will hold off on their attack. They only want the seeds but will destroy a whole pear to get there.

E. Stanley Jones writes about an Indian businessman waiting on a train. (In India there are four classes on trains; first, second, intermediate, and third.) The businessman must wait for trains with first class carriages. Third class means wooden benches and crowds. Mr. Jones is taking one of those. The man replies, "Yes, you can go on it, for you are a religious man. If you go first class it doesn't exalt you; and if you go third class, it doesn't degrade you. You are lifted above distinctions, but I have to keep them up." ("Bondage to prestige is bondage.")

Okay, I don't have the fanciful gardens. I barely write anything more than a simple story of what I live daily. The fact that it's been eight months since my last post tells me I'm living differently. Maybe more simply. Enjoying freedom through simplicity. And for the reader that stops by for a visit... something that frees me - might free you? Or something that frees you -  I can add to my list!!


E. Stanley Jones, The Way, published in 1956

Right now, I am small

Right now, I am small.
Things are simple with a single tiny focus.
Earthly eyes are not yet in my possession.
I am simply loved, by all who see me.

Right now, I am small.
There is no clue about my future.
My crib is a home that I love to be in.
Warm kisses great me all day long.

Dad comes and goes.
Mom always knows ~ my every need.
Grandma with sweet songs.
Grandpa plays ping-pong ~ with my toes.
For right now, I am small.

Sleep

Golds and browns, accept your fate ~
a chill arrives, it's getting late.

Your branches gray, with dying moss ~
prepare again for season's loss.

Sleep is due with curling leaves ~
that gather 'neath the forest trees.

Creatures come to build their nests ~
for Autumn's time gives way to rest.

Sleep oh forest without a sound ~
in beauty deep of golds and browns,

Of golds and browns ~ sleep ~

It's just a story - right?

"Over yon hill boy, is the Thanksgiving Day Parade of 2013. Things are so different from our own year of 2050. But come, let us have a look at what they do. I just know it must be exciting; otherwise it might not have been given the sentimental name, "Turkey Day."

A portal opens and two birds from the future come to view the tradition of Thanksgiving. What will they find? Will they realize it is scary and unsafe for them to be in this year? Indeed I'm beginning to wonder if  people are safe being in this year. Especially here in the US of A.; seems we have a lot of 'turkeys' at the top, with fewer and fewer eagles of yesteryear remaining.

"Giant balloons, marching bands, baton-twirling dancers, Broadway skits - surely boy, I say, surely boy, it doesn't get any better than this! And oh look, a huge balloon of our distinguished ancestor, "Tom Turkey"... hi Tom!!!"

The two birds watch as the hours pass. Eventually, they stand next to a row of houses; peeking into window after window they are shocked to find that people are baking turkeys. What in the world is going on?

"They're eating our ancestors?!! I can't handle watching anymore. Let's return to our own time. I'm sure your Mom has finished stewing that swill of man. You know boy, this might explain why in 2050 we eat man every Thanksgiving."

Poof! The birds pop back through their portal. Safe in 2050 they petition the local counsel to start having a Thanksgiving Day parade. And maybe a large balloon of "Charlie Brown." Why not? Some traditions are worth keeping.

Okay ~ the end.

In my yard

Today I sat and watched the leaves. Just like this picture with it's movement.
It was so nice. It was so quiet. I love days like this.

Trick or treat?

Take care what you wish for - it's Halloween

Such an amazing tree house! Three children stood on the ground looking up. Three separate tiers, so maybe  three rounds of candy? Curiosity pulled them in. Climbing only a few steps, one child raised her hand and knocked on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

A voice from above spoke softly, "I'm up here; climb up here."

So three young children out to seek their weight in candy climbed to the next tier. "Go on," one said, "give her a knock."

Knock, knock, knock.

The same soft voice floated on the air, "I'm up here; climb up here."

The three children, weary from all the steps, hoped they would find the treasure they sought at the last and final tier. The child who hadn't knocked before now raised her hand to do so. "What are you waiting for?" asked the eldest.

Knock, knock, knock.

A face appeared before them. It was as if it were part of the wood, and oh how lovely that face was, or the wood... The soft voice spoke hastily, "My, my, what ever do you wish for; hurry up, I don't have all day."

The three little children found their voice and cries of  "trick or treat," filled the air.

The face in the door looked slowly at each little child and asked, "So which is it, that you wish for... a trick or a treat?"

Answering her question they began to jump, up & down, up & down, up, & down, screaming, "We want candy treats; lots of candy treats; all of the candy treats in the world!"

Suddenly from the sky thousands of candy treats fell, piling up until the top tree house tier collapsed onto the second tier. The quaking continued as more treats fell, collapsing the second tier onto the bottom tier. The children were falling fast now caught in the massive amount of treats, but still screaming for more! A final thud as the bottom tier collapsed, and thousands of chocolate chip cookies covered up their last breath. Bburbburburrrrr.

The lovely face in the door laughed and laughed, while three tiny ghosts flew off into the woods to live forevermore.

The end.

Loki's give away - amazing artistry

This is for my fellow blogger, Andrew. His blog,  "Loki's Great Hall", is having a special give away. He's celebrating his 200th follower. That in itself is an amazing feat! But you must see his artwork, the piece he is giving away!!

Though my own personal choice is acrylic painting on canvas, I can certainly appreciate his wonderful talent. This is a real treasure for gamers who love to battle.

Where I belong

Many times I've walked this site ~
with thoughts of nothing but delight.

Sheer joy with every step I take ~
never hurried, never late.

All round the world seems cold ~
but I come here to cheer my soul.

Loving hands will keep me strong ~
and I will dwell where I belong.

Bourne - again?

First, some music to listen to while you read my smallish post.

Agent "dc" is hot on the trail of a wicked banking industry - one that seeks to destroy her reputation and peaceful home. (No joke - true story.) They seek to possess her heart and soul. But agent "dc" holds all of the documents to dispute the evil, vile bank. Stay tuned for more updates. Agent "dc" has her own "Bourne Identity" and may even decide to take cello lessons.

fencing lessons

Fenced in or flying free ~ sometimes I wonder  ~ which one is me?

Is there an ebb, like the ocean's tide, that carries sorrow and joy throughout our lives? Why is it, that I'll be celebrating a victory of some sort when suddenly, there's a crisis? This has been a repeated 'thing' throughout my life.  I'm come to realize that most everyone else experiences similar flows ~ ~ ~

In with the good, out with the bad... what pray tell was I missing? My turn around time was too short. You know that "moment" you need to feel supported right before the bridge collapses? I'm counting: 1, 2, 3, and really thinking I'll make it to 5... but at 3.2 I'm screwed. (Sorry, but screwed IS the appropriate word.) Oh, "for Pete's sakes, " I'll give you my latest example. (By the way, where did "for Pete's sakes," come from?)

I've been so swept away being the happy homeowner; come this August 8th, it will be two years! Wow! As most of you know I began a mission to build my own block walls to redirect rain water flow and, in general, create some extra beauty. It's also helped me exercise the arm that I broke in May a year ago. My, how time has flown.

It's been great and though some days I cannot get more than seven to ten blocks moved, I'm almost done. I'm on the fourth wall and yet, "I'm off the wall." Yep, one day I stood out in the rain watching the water, and the natural path it chose... winding around and down the hill... my blocks would accommodate the clouds! I felt 'green'. LOL.

Then I noticed that one of the rain downspouts needed help directing water away from the house. You know... those long metal things/pipe-like drains that pull rain water from the roof?! So I took a little trip down to my basement to see if I could 'engineer' something to help temporarily. Gosh, hadn't been down in the basement for over a week; been so busy watching the rain from the outside for the block mission. Egad! Water on the floor! Oh my... water in half of the basement. I knew we had several hard rains over the last week but... this! This was going to take some work. Exactly five days on my own and the basement is now dry.

Here's the good part. The new paths I've made using the blocks are working. If not the entire basement would have been flooded. I did discover that my sump pump has ceased living!(sigh) I've been watching videos to see if I can do a replacement installation. Basically I have to find out what the current model, size, make is. I guess it's like buying a car?? And yep, I already checked the electrical outlets... they're working fine. Anyway I can always call for a consultation with an expert. They don't charge but their help might give me an edge I don't already have. You see, I'm also going to put commercial downspouts on my home; should have been that way from the beginning. It's a big roof!!! Try not to laugh, dcrelief has high hopes.

So... being a homeowner... am I fenced in or flying free? Forget that... just let me know how you're doing. Or maybe you've done some house project that would help. And yes, don't do like my neighbor across the street and say, "You need a man." (As he smiled and batted his eyelids at me.) Personally I think the maintenance on my house would be cheaper!!!

Thanks for reading.

ode to rain

Summer, summer, summer,
and the rain came down.

Trickle, trickle, tickle,
not a dry spot found.

While here I sit in swaddling clothes  ~
the raindrops running down my nose.

Ode, ode, ode  ~
thus my ode to rain.


(Image: "The Graphics Fairy"; Thanks, Fairy!)

a child's summer

Sunlight plays on the garden
where tiny bees gather nectar.
I watch as they sip from all the flowers,
taking hours to get their fill.

It takes me far away
from the things that trouble me.
Life slows down for just a while,
I have to smile and  remember when.

Teddy bear clouds dance on the wind,
float through the air and gone.
That was a summer to never forget,
never regret the growth of my soul.

Even as my Mom called to me
a time for dinner, then to bed.
The day was through,
goodnight to you, you flew on.

making beds to lie in...

Life has a way of circling back memories we'd thought forgotten. So it was with me this past week as I made the bed in the smallest room of my home. It used to be my room. Long since painted a different shade of lavender, it still feels like my space! Perfect for viewing the sunset, I travel there so I can travel elsewhere... in my mind... remembering a certain thirteen year old doing the very same thing.
Of course there's a 'jambox' for listening to music. What sane teenage girl would be without her favorite tunes? Set to radio I flipped the switch and suddenly was transported to 1968. A song from the past filled the air; I had more memories than my heart could contain. The overflow spilled onto my cheeks. Okay now... it's okay now.
June - 1968 - Mom and I are making my bed in the small room. The gentle guitar moves, finger fretting, came over the air and we knew the song. "Ode to Billie Joe" and we knew the words, mostly. Mom got to the verse that says:
"There was a virus going 'round; Papa caught it and he died last spring." But then she made a goof and continued... "and now Papa doesn't seem to wanna do much of anything."
Pure hysterical laughter as we realized her mistake. I guess Papa wouldn't want to do much of anything.(smile)
June- 2013 - So there I was making that bed, thinking about all my troubles of late. Reached over and flipped the switch on that old 'jambox' and yep... got to the part of Mom's goof and hooted and hollered. I laughed until I cried but I was laughing.
Lots of speculation about that song. Bobbie Gentry, author and artist, moved on to study Philosophy in California. She once told the BBC, 1968, the song was a "study in unconscious cruelty," which I didn't understand until I saw the 1976 movie. So finding this video really is eye-opening because you see firsthand the "family table talk" and dancing around the "why".  A young man is dead because the times were as they were... being gay was "unpardonable" by people. Forty-five years have passed... are we there yet?

goofing off

One summer & Paul

I was fourteen, loving life, living as large as an eighth grade student could live. My super high on life was going to last forever. I was sure. Besides it was the summer of 69, who could lose?

My Grandmother's home was just around the curve from the Clinton water tower. You saw the tower, you were practically standing on her old white-washed wooden porch. There was probably a chicken or two in the yard; they'd scatter whenever cars rolled into that big dirt driveway. The neighbor's dog, "Champ" would come off the porch, bark a moment as if to say, "what took you so long?" Then Grandmother herself in the apron of the day would greet us with a loud, "Hello there, I need some hugs!"

A big family gathering this time as cousin Paul was arriving home from Vietnam. Two tours of duty... a proud Marine... but something was so wrong. He wasn't the same. But I was fourteen, going to live forever, and glad to see my favorite cousin. He told me of the time I mailed him Wrigley's chewing gum and he had to do fifty push-ups to keep the gum. Next time I needed to mail it so the mail officer wouldn't know... "Lay all five pieces of gum flat, then tape them to the back of your letter."  It worked!

Grandmother's home looked like one of those old southern, stately homes. (Think, "Gone With the Wind" - the movie.) My Grandfather had died before I was born. He and the Mrs. paid the large sum of $1800 for a two story, 35 acre home; with twelve children it came in handy. My favorite part was the porch that wrapped around three-fourths of the house; particularly the wooden swing on the side where the rose bushes grew. South Carolina sand was a natural for the plants. Aunt Pat would be playing hymns in the parlour, while I would absorb the aroma of the flowers. That piano was possibly a hundred years old, but she kept it tuned for her Mom. Gradually all the brother and sisters would become this all-gospel choir. I preferred rock, but listening while swinging, sure did make a body feel peaceful. Then again, maybe it was just the summer of 69.

Pretty soon "the choir" would stop and a massive movement of rocking chairs would start to fill the very front of the porch. Everyone looking outwards toward the road waving, "howdy" to every passing car. Younger cousins filled the yard chasing chickens or playing dodge ball. They would run until they dropped. Only cousin Paul remained in his room on the second floor.

My own family was there for two days. In that time I rarely saw Paul. He seemed to stay out of sight on purpose. My uncle who was still in the Marines and had been to Vietnam, asked everyone to give Paul time. "You cannot imagine," he said, "leaving the killing fields one day to arrive in perfect safety the next. The shock of death surrounds you and then you're home where people are singing hymns. Makes you wonder if God even knows there's a Vietnam."

Two weeks, maybe three passed. A busy fourteen year old was making beach plans. My parents had rented a tiny cottage for a week and I was so ready for fun and sun. In fact we were loading the car when the mail ran. My Mom called out, "Hey, Dixie, here's a letter from Paul for you." I was excited that he might continue writing me after getting home. But then I saw the return address... one of those long, multi-lined, multi-number addresses of the military. He signed on for a third tour. I read as hot tears welled up and fell on my cheeks. He felt that's where he belonged.

"I cannot relate to anyone. Maybe Uncle Tony because he's been here, but even he seems to be okay. He has Aunt Deb and the kids. At home I'm alone. Here I have my buddies; we are family. I cannot leave them. I cannot stay where there is no sound. For in that silence I hear their cries. I love you. Please write. Love, Paul"

When he requested his fifth tour of duty they refused him. Once home he stayed in a drunken blitz. In and out of trouble with the law, and no relationship ever lasted. He was so alone. I was 28 and we arranged to spend a day hanging out. We had so much fun and he didn't drink the entire time. We drove down all the back roads... making it to Grandmother's house finally. Since her death no one was there to care for it. He had a taken an apartment after his Mom threw him out. But on this day none of that mattered to him. He and an old friend were enjoying life. A year later he was dead... fatal car accident, though some suspect suicide. I don't know but I'm certainly not going to cast a stone. If anyone needed peace he did... and those who serve in the same capacity.

Thank you for reading.

I dedicate this video to Paul.

White sky = emptiness?

Words no words,
and yet I feel the need to type

What goes on
within a mind that's so distracted?

Where did I
lay down my peaceful attitude?

It was here
just days ago and disappeared again.

Chemtrails against the sky
are you the reason I've faltered at living?

Taking no pleasure
in anything outside and yet I go there.

Words just words,
but they're all I have for expression.

White sky emptiness
you will not win; even as I write, I've won.