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Friday, March 29, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Stuck
Of course, on the other hand, there are times when it is good and right to sit for a bit, to ponder the next move.
But on the other "other hand" sometimes that's just a stalling tactic, something to hold onto when we are afraid to move.
And, so you see, pursuing perfection can be paralyzing.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Tyler's Tree: March
I know it doesn't look like much but if you look closely, you can see signs of new growth. This tree looks about the way I feel lately! It's sort of hard to believe there is new life rising out of that stick. But it's there and spring is coming!
I also noticed when I was editing these photos that the pictures I took in January of Tyler's tree show branches. The pictures I've taken lately show just a stick coming up out of the ground. I don't know if something broke the branches off or what. I am going to investigate the next time I am there.
We created a primitive bed around the tree. There was a large stump there, with roots, left over from a sweet gum tree that died. We planted ferns and a few flowers and bulbs in there. According to my mother, the things we planted will spread and grow over the roots. We also put a couple of bird baths in that area. I'm trying hard to get a way to get the birds closer so I can get pictures of them. We shall see what happens.
Next time I go, the two huge azalea bushes should be blooming and with any luck, we will find a couple of wild dogwoods blooming as well.
I keep trying to make myself forget the prospects of running into Mr. Snake again on my trail. I'm not doing well with that project!
Friday, March 15, 2013
How a "Thang" is Born and Other Tales of Wonder
When I read the words, I remembered some photos I'd taken of a rusty old dog chain hanging on a rotting swing in my back yard. I looked at the old photos but I didn't like them as well as I thought so I went out and took new ones.
This is how a "thang" is born!
I'm trying to get organized to set up an online shop to sell them on cards suitable for sending in the mail or for framing.
Last week's verb was "wonder." I experienced a time of wonder last weekend when I was in the country. My parents were with us and my mom pointed to this rabbit eating grass in the yard. I went and got my camera and slowly moved closer and closer to him. I think I was within 10-15 feet of him before he finally decided to hop away! The camera would make its shutter noise and he would look up but he was too busy eating to let it bother him too much.
And then, the very next day, we went for a walk on a little trail I'm clearing out (it's actually a "fire line" which has been plowed up a while back but is kind of growing back) and we saw this scary looking guy.
Talk about make your heart stop! My mother saw him first. He was on the side of the trail. She went on ahead of him. My dad and I were behind him. My dad has had all that trouble with his eye and he can only see a little bit. I didn't want to send him up ahead to catch up with my mother because I was afraid the snake might strike, or that my dad might not see so well and trip and fall. We could have turned and gone back the other way but I figured my mom would be nervous continuing on without us. I finally picked up a piece of wood and threw at him. It landed a few inches from the snake and he just stared at it! Finally, he slowly started turning the other way and slithered his way down into his hole in the ground, which was a slow process, let me tell you!
The hold he was going into was right behind the trunk of this small tree. I suppose I could have done better at composing my pictures but I was a little bit nervous!
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Trust
I recently finished a cheap Kindle book about grief called "The Circumference of Hope," by Margot Storti-Marron. It turned out to be an excellent little book. It was a series of essays written after the author suffered the loss of several loved ones in a rather quick period of time.
One of my favorite quotes from the book was "Loss sometimes feels like encountering a strange place in a familiar landscape." She is a therapist and she writes about her clients telling her that one of the things their grief has changed for them is their expectations. She goes on to say how people had expectations of a paticular future with their loved ones, and now they don't. And they are, understandably sad about this.
That's a very big part of the reason this particular quote on "trust" spoke to me. I had expectations that I would outlive all three of my children. I had hopes and dreams for my son. And now, not only do I have to let go of the hopes and dreams, I no longer have his physical presence in my day to day life.
My own grief swells and then settles down. That is the way it will be for a long time. Lately, the permanence of his physical absence has weighed down on me.
I'm only saying these things as facts and as an admonition to make the most of your present moments. As we all know, but often tend to try and ignore, none of us is guaranteed more than our present breath. Probably no one needs to be reminded of this more than I do at this moment.
(Trust was my verb for last week. I am late for my own deadline, as usual.)
One of my favorite quotes from the book was "Loss sometimes feels like encountering a strange place in a familiar landscape." She is a therapist and she writes about her clients telling her that one of the things their grief has changed for them is their expectations. She goes on to say how people had expectations of a paticular future with their loved ones, and now they don't. And they are, understandably sad about this.
That's a very big part of the reason this particular quote on "trust" spoke to me. I had expectations that I would outlive all three of my children. I had hopes and dreams for my son. And now, not only do I have to let go of the hopes and dreams, I no longer have his physical presence in my day to day life.
My own grief swells and then settles down. That is the way it will be for a long time. Lately, the permanence of his physical absence has weighed down on me.
I'm only saying these things as facts and as an admonition to make the most of your present moments. As we all know, but often tend to try and ignore, none of us is guaranteed more than our present breath. Probably no one needs to be reminded of this more than I do at this moment.
(Trust was my verb for last week. I am late for my own deadline, as usual.)
Tuesday, March 05, 2013
Truth
I'm ready for spring to get here! This is one I did on my phone yesterday.
This past week's verb was "trust." I have not written or done anything with that yet.
Maybe I will.
Maybe I won't.
:)
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