These morning glories... gorgeous. I'm gazing at this image and reflecting on everything it means to me... the forms and colors, the fragrances, and variety of flowers are always amazing, always a pleasure, that I welcome a chance to feel restored by even the smallest sampling of nature, that gardens are a gift that go beyond boundaries and our differences. I am recalling the great masses of morning glories that grew in a curtain around the place where Geoff and I were married. I am feeling some relief from the stress of politics, and car troubles, worries, and headaches, because the corners of our world have picket fences and flowers, beach walks, and chickens, challenges and solutions. Setbacks, and comforts.
With Infinity More Monkeys, a picture a day.
And just to sustain the feeling of relief, to restore some levels of calm and hope, here are a few more corners of our world.
This was our first summer trip to the beach.
We packed a picnic, came with a shade shelter, and towels. We built a fire, and hung out for hours. It was a good day, and a good reminder that we have this tremendous resource practically at our front door. I met a woman from Phoenix, visiting with her family, and she was so thrilled to be at the beach, so delighted to hear some of my impressions and suggestions for future visits, and she declared, "You must be here... everyday?
" But, no. No, we don't go to the beach nearly that often, and I did feel a blush of embarrassment admitting that. I'm tempted to list all of the "important" reasons and excuses for why we don't go to the beach everyday,
but that's not helpful, or necessary. Instead, I have been simply trying to go more often... however late the hour, or unprepared I feel, even if we cannot stay long, or I feel like there's one more thing
I should do instead, and maybe especially, even if I feel like it'd be easier to just stay home...
I have been making the trip to the beach.
Our corners of the world include chickens, goats, cats, and robots. We love our Bird House, the home we've made for our paints, and projects, our pie pans, books, and quilts. And even though I love to travel, relish a good road trip, home is where I want to be, to return to, to hideout.
Yeah... I think I have become a bit more reclusive. Is it the outside world that sends me deeper into our retreat, or the voice inside, acknowledging that I am happy in a smaller, familiar corner?
Last week Alex suggested we go for a walk after dinner.
And so I relented, and chose to head out, rather than hideout. It was a welcome escape from bad news, and anxious feelings about other, bigger plans in the works.
I cannot decide if it's a spiritual, new-age philosophy, or something scientifically proven, and factual... doesn't matter: The beach, with waves hitting the shore, spray in the air, the salt, all of those negative ions and their positive
vibes, make a body feel better. Movement is good, company is good, the rhythm and sensory pleasures of the beach are all good. And after our time in Wisconsin, thanks to Laura and Gary, the hike at the waterfalls, the day on the lake, I think this natural joy
can happen anywhere... anywhere we are in motion, away from routine, from the ties of our usual comforts, in a place where we find ourselves as part of the world, and not driving by it, using it, consuming it, but actually engaged, joining in the breath and rhythm of the wind, or water, the movement of birds, the trajectory of the sun, the rising of the moon, it's healing, uplifting, inspiring, good.
Of course, I am not always readily available in body and mind to acknowledge this brilliant insight, and so I stew in my worries, resist the tide, and forget to go out, to hold hens, smell flowers, walk barefoot across sand, wade along the lakeshore, water my fuchsias, book that camping trip! Alas!
How much I miss. And... Hurrah!
Because it's not too late to try again.
And the corners of our world increase, and move out, forward. And, please, however prepared I could be, or might have been, or ought to be... some changes are going to take more time, more faith, more daring, more beach walks, more deep breaths than others.
It is a paradox of sorts, to feel as confident and awe-inspired by Max, by where Max has come from, by how much he has achieved, and how well he has prepared, and yet to feel myself so surprised, so emotionally unprepared to face this next part of the journey, his, mine, ours. I saw it coming, I did not see it coming. Life, you are tricky, like that.
Then we have this. Neo Cairo Nepenthes, our boop. Our fur baby. A corner of the world so distracting, and silly, so alive and amusing, that we cannot help but laugh out loud at the sight of him.
I am always in a mental battle with myself over how I would like to be, and how I am. I would like to be a domestic goddess, with fresh linens on every bed, and a dinner plan for every evening. I imagine a clear desk, clean car, groomed goats, flossed teeth, toned calves, and spotless shower walls, but nope.
Right now, there is a very pretty bouquet on our mostly clean table cloth. The pantry is as immaculate as I can ever hope, and William did as much for the cabinet where we keep spices... I call these incidences miracles!
I very recently cleaned and organized the critical components of the master bath, and my car is tidy, and finally getting some recall issues attended to. This may be as good as it gets.
Sure, the airbags, shift lever, and "SRS" unit are getting replaced, but there's also the matter of my dying ignition tumblers, the suspension and shocks, the disintegrating steering wheel. It seems my new car, my darling Jet Puff,
somehow, got old. And I try not to panic, but nothing stays the same, fresh, new, tidy, organized. Much to my dismay, I find that housework bores the heck out of me, so that doesn't help. And the news is full of bad headlines, no matter what your politics are!
Flowers! Quick! Beach walks, too, even if it's late in the day, and we forget to bring towels. More time in nature, more laughter, cat posts, slow, deep breaths. And stepping back, like this, blogging, looking at these pictures, I am reminded that life may be tricky,
but it's going to be okay.
And sometimes, quite often actually, our lives are much better than okay. We have a very pretty bouquet of flowers on a mostly clean table cloth... and that's quite a lot to be thankful for, right there.
More walks, even if it's because my car is in the shop, and they're 'not sure what's wrong with your starter.'
I gotta look up, and look out, and move forward.
Breath in. Breath out.