Oh dear, I am so weary. I just wrote the nicest post about the picture of my geraniums still blooming. And son of a gun...it disappeared when I went to post it. It was about three paragraphs long. My brain is fried, and I just can't go back and rewrite it.
The gist of it was I spared the geraniums another day...because I saw Christmas in their faces. You would have liked it....too bad...wasn't meant to be.
boo hoo
Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes
...........I hope.

Still blooming and it's almost December

 

I've missed being here. Once in a while I took a few quick peeks at what you were all doing. Sounds like everyone has had a pretty good feast day of thanks. Mine ended up being pretty nice,changing locations a few times...it finally settled down at my 'soon-to-be-a-mother'daughter's house. If all goes as planned the little guy should be born (induced) on Dec. 2. I believe that is the full moon. Ah..I will have to look into that.
Today I spent the day hauling out the Christmas decorations and putting up the tree. A bitter sweet endeavor. I can see my life in those decorations.
Maybe now, that this is finished, I can get back to thinking again...until Dec 2...then who knows what or where I'll be.
My camera thinks I have abandoned it. I was able to take this one photo of an interesting old victorian near my daughter's home. The area she lives in was once quite beautiful with grand old homes. Now, the big lots all have been subdivided long ago and homes have been stuck between most of them. But if you take a long hard look you can still see what once was, in a few of them.
Doesn't matter really, even if the homes remained intact, those lifestyles are gone. Grand is gone..rehab in.
Right about now,I'm ready for some rehab myself.
Since lists seem to be the thing, going around on blogs, here's mine...
This week I:
will put on makeup
wear real shoes
not wear an apron
refuse anything that sounds like turkey
not eat another sweet thing
take an hour walk at least once
take my camera on an outing
let my brain free
spend some time in stillness
drop off a bag or two to AMVETS
maybe read something besides Fitness and Yoga
paint
write a poem
watch The Banger Sisters
be of self for a whole day
and stay in pray that all goes well for my daughter

Old city house

 

No pictures, just words

Oh give thanks unto the Lord
for He is good
and His mercy endures forever

Remember this prayer? Simple but lovely

May your day be simple....,filled with the aromas of good food from your traditions,may you be surrounded by those you love, and may you keep in your heart, the love of those no longer here...for they are still with you..
May you see today as a time to stop and be still and to look around and see all that you have ...and give thanks to God
And add a special prayer for our country and our servicemen...and women
may God guide us

I give thanks for much and may I mention here I especially give thanks for you all (hey,I'm southern!) ..my blogger friends
Your words reach me
there is a connection with so many of you
you are now in my circle of love
and I give thanks for this simple, yet important
addition to my life journey
Blessed Thanksgiving!

November is Slipping Away

 

Leaves drop and swirl around me.
Squirrels,too busy to say hello,
scurry as days get shorter.

The garden is a memory,
as are the long days of summer
and lemonade.

Robins have long slipped away
with no good-byes,
while the last formation of geese
flew over a week ago.

What will I do without them:
starry asters,
fresh picked flowers, apples,
and oh,
the pumpkins in the fields?

Autumn's swan song is in the air
and all I can do is listen...
bow to the new arrival,
Give thanks.

 

Pretty bleak today, too. But I did manage to find a bit of simple beauty in the back of my yard. I love old wood and rusty things in the garden. My DH thinks I'm daffy to buy something that's old looking and rusty. "You paid good money for that?" I ignore him. That's my secret to our successful 39 year marriage.
But this piece of wood is not store bought, but rather a discarded piece used to keep my neighbor's little dog on his side of the fence. It didn't work. He learned to keep shoving it until it gave just enough for him to crawl under and romp like a goof through my trilliums and Bloodroot and jack-in-the-pulpits! Oh well. I have a mind to leave the garden alone most of the time,no matter what. It is a habitat and habitats need to push and shove and survive. Most garden clubs wouldn't want me as a member,but I don't care, I have a sanctuary and they have plants.
It took me a long time to not be embarrassed by my jungle. I remember the summer it happened. A dear friend,Patty,asked if she could bring her garden club to see my yard. I think my head fell off when she asked me. "My garden,Patty?" I asked her, "It's not a proper a garden."
"Yeah,I know," she said in her wonderful way,"that's what I want them to see." Well, they came by the car load and ooo'd and ahh'd and asked me all sorts of questions. Me...
I dug up volunteers for them and many went home with invasive chocolate mint...and were happy to! Patty called the next day to thank me, for teaching them not to be such snobs about gardening... "they loved, loved, your yard,she said,even the odd stuff you have tucked away in every nook and cranny".
She was referring to old enamel pots and baskets and old tools and iron metal sculptures. She said the girls loved that "my trees loved to wear jewelry". That's what I said about all the dangly things hanging from so many branches.
All this thinking has made me long for my garden. But I must be still now, rest,like the garden,store up my energy for the new season promised.

I long to hear my friend Patty's laugh, thinking about her now. She is gone. Like the lovely red leaf fallen on the old wood,she was a thing of beauty all by herself, and I know she is in the garden promised her.

And I hear it raining now.

Soup day

Kokopelli

 

I actually had a day to do as I wish.
Nails. That's what I did. Shallow I know, but a girl has to take care of herself. Then I went shopping for the last of the list for Thanksgiving. As I passed the meat counter, I saw the nicest packages of oxtails that I have seen in LONG time. That's it. Soup day.
So, what does Kokopelli have to do with this,you ask?
It is a gloomy,dull,gray-cloud day. Not too cold, but a bit damp...the worst feeling..on olding bones...I refuse to say old...so it's olding.
I went into the garden on my morning walk looking for beauty and there wasn't much. A few roses are still struggling to hold onto their unopened buds and the grass is still a nice color of green, but nothing hit me in my stillness. That is until I looked up and saw Kokopelli playing his flute against the barren trees against the bleak sky. This made me laugh. Kokopelli is the flute playing casanova of the Southwest. He is supposed to usher us from winter into spring..carrying seeds and song. He is a music maker,a dancer ..and always spreading joy...knowing the harvest will come. I bought this windchime at TJMAXX..yeah, that's right. It has the most beautiful sound. Delicate and enchanting. Seeing him dance above the trees made me happy and it hit my stillness.
This put me in a good mood for grocery shopping.
Then the universe gave the oxtails (lots of little ones) and I came home and made a big pot of oxtail vegetable soup. I had to tell my kids it was beef vegtable soup for the longest time. They never would have eaten "oxtails". Now they do.
Yes, seeing beauty in Kokopelli against the bleak sky was meant to be, and now I have a happy DH. Soup tonight!

Oxtail Soup....mmmm

 

Blue and Gray

 

 

My daughter thinks I'm obsessed with her fence. I am. I just love those little blue berries and the golden leaf against the gray weathered wood. Along with the berries are sweet autumn clematis. It looks like snow on her fence when it is blooming. I wasn't into taking pictures when it was blooming its head off.. Oh well,next year.
Next year. It rolls off my tongue as if I knew. But none of us knows. I can pray that it is so. I had this conversation with my mom this week. We should cherish the times we are together and love every moment of it and make more times...life is so very fragile and yet so rugged. We are all survivors. Just think,we all are descendents of people who have survived from the beginning. If it weren't so, we wouldn't be here now.
Survivors...tough,rugged stuff we are. How often do we see ourselves that way?
But for now, I can take a picture of what I missed and take joy in the beauty of the withered leaf and berry and cheer the old fence for holding them up yet another year....doing so with no promise of tomorrow.

IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

 

I have had these tree trunk fellas for about three years. When I first spotted them at TJMAXX, I had to rush to grab them and put them into my basket...another woman's eyes were widening. But I got there first.
Beauty,even at TJMAXX
More later, I HAVE to clean my house....someone(DH) reminded me that this week is Thanksgiving...Oh Lordie...can I get it all done?

I just thought this was so pretty

 

No deep message here...only a pretty picture taken up north of the city. Don't the birds look like leaves?
It's been a long day...goodnight...maybe tomorrow my brain will be working

The saga continues/for Bev

 

Look at how the story has changed. I hope this shoe lasts all winter.
Off to be with daughter. She's cramping my style..but I love her.
No one stopping by for a visit lately....so it's fine.
There is always tomorrow or tonight.

Someone has already walked this path

 

I had to walk to the drugstore in the rain to get my daughter some cold medicine. I forgot how nice it is to walk on city streets. I had my trusty camera in my pocket,walking with eyes and heart open. And when you look at the world that way, you see.
There on the sidewalk before me were footprints in the concrete. COOL! I took 3 shots of the sidewalk before I drew a small crowd of senior citizens....what are you looking at? what's there? How could I explain to them that I had seen beauty in those footprints.
Whose were they?
How long had they been there?
How many people walked over them and never saw them?
So cool.
On the way back, I stopped and looked at them again. One footprint had slid. Wow, had it been fun or was it an oops?
Story, story,everywhere.

My daughter is miserable with a nasty cold she got from the grandkids who went to visit her. I was glad I was there to help her today. Maybe someday I'll tell her about the footprints....she wouldn't understand now.
.

My found beauty today

 

Every morning I seek beauty. In these last days of November it is getting harder to find. But a soul needs this challenge. For me, how this is done, is to be aware of where my eye stops...if only for a brief second. There I know a connection has been made. So I get out the camera and look for what it was that made me still inside.
The skies are grey and bleak this morning,the trees naked. Their glorious garments scattered on the ground beneath them,waiting for their return to the cycle of life.
Not much beauty around today I thought,then I saw the five pumpkins. They looked like they were sitting on a bench waiting for a bus to come along and take them away from this dreariness. A smile broke across my face.

Primrose and Me

This morning I found this primrose plant gasping out some final blooms. Poor little plant..it has the urge, the need to,the undisobeyable command to, flower while it still can. Me too.
It's lonely writing a book. But I have the urge,the need to,the undisobeyable command, to flower while I still can.
Weeks into it and all ready I'm hitting resistance. I could deny it a bit with all that has been going on here, but yesterday when I could have been writing, I took out my paints,told myself I had the urge to paint. I know now I had the greater urge not to write. I started out fine. But I just couldn't stop myself from messing with it. I ruined it.
But when I saw those flowers this morning on my daily stroll through the garden, I saw it as a sign...get your butt back inside and begin again.
And I believe in signs. I got an email from an old teacher that he is going to be doing a workshop this summer. No hobby writers, he declares. So I emailed him back, told him what I was up to and wondered if this would be considered as an acceptable form as a work in progress...He emailed back...YES!!!
See, a sign.
Hopefully the family matters will calm down soon and I can put my mind to only writing this book. I truly have the urge, the need to, the undisobeyable command to

How does one enter?

How does one enter a life that they love? I think most of it is attitude. There must be an inner shift in attitude. Joy must consume ever molecule of your heart. Without joy there is no joy. But rather a miserable life of want,bitterness,envy,jealousy,covetousness,pettiness,and dread. A life lived so small is a life lived small. Say yes to life,look for beauty everywhere,it's there. Bless your life right where you are today,make a list of what is wrong and what you desire in your life,then take action....seize your own power...and get it into your life. Gather people into your life that move it forward...get rid of those who keep you from this inner shift...all of them. Notice if you wallow,if you stir your pity pot. Notice how much you speak negativley about your circumstances. Notice how much you stop yourself from living a better, happier life because you so often say "no" to it. Stop living in want and blame,but rather live as if everything you do is an act of worship....it is. Bless your life with gratitude,a happy heart,a more positive choice of words coming out of your mouth, especially toward your life and your circumstances. Love your family but have friends. They are your lifeline when this innershift is frightening and uncomfortable. They are the ones you trust with your doubt, they are the ones who listen without judging,they are our sounding boards. Have only in your life things that are beautiful to you,down to the tiniest detail,eat to nourish your body,move your body,take care of your personal appearance...it does after all tell the world a heap about what you think of yourself.
I can show someone the doorknob,reassure them that good things await on the other side,but the one thing I am forbidden to do,have no power to make anyone do, is to turn the knob and enter. That, they have to make the choice... to do themselves.

Kid Loves my garden...too much

A hardy feast of Alder cones

A way out

She really is Queen of the Prairie

The old gardener has a lot to do

Unconventional gardener

..some might say...not a gardener at all. I used to worry about everything concerning dirt,water,and light. I'm too busy.. enjoying... the garden now in my more mature years. Let it grow where it wants to.
My earliest memory of gardening was my grandpa's garden. His grass was like an emerald green carpet, and the only flowers he grew were marigolds,hollyhocks,four o"clocks and rooster combs...oh did I mention that he planted them in groups....Each flower had a sort of pen...first pen...all marigolds,then rooster combs..all in 3x4 sections. No one else gardened this way. But his garden was magic for me. And he kept a catalpa tree alive,I don't know how..it had a large hole you could see through right in the middle of the trunk. Every year he'd whack it down to an inch of its life. I guess it loved it, because it grew beautifully until... after he died and my grandma stopped whacking it. She didn't take care of the grass or the flowers either. The only flowers she had were the few voluteers that managed to survive.
My next life altering garden was the one in the back of the house my parents bought. I was 5 years old. I can still remember my heart thumping when we walked out back and there was this fabulous wild garden.  As I think of it now, the strong scent of dill fills my brain. Well, when we finally moved in and I thought I had died and went to heaven having this wonderful flower garden...guess what? They cut it down,tore it out...planted all grass(and not the green carpet kind my grandpa grew). I was hearbroken. But what can a little girl do about it....I don't think I even told them how I felt about it.
So I have always been drawn to gardens. they are magical places where magic of the seasons happen. And so much more:
Anticipation of the first crocus,the first rose..the opening of Alsip Nursery
Birdbaths and fountains,abors and trellises
Surprises like mushrooms after a week of heavy rain, moss growing between flagstone
Insects of all kinds, some good, some bad,but all fascinationg to me
Volunteers planted by busy squirrels or droppings by drunken birds who have gorged themselves on my grapehollies
Solomon's seal spreading alongside sweet woodrift (a beautiful sight) and wild geraniums
Day lillies
grasses
birds,birds birds
and then there are the Robins
singing crisply at dawn and singing sweetly at dusk
and silly squirrels that never cease to entertain
and oh the drama of the hawks
and visiting owls
and the aromas that fill the air on hot summer evenings, moonflowers
nothing like a garden... I weed a little, prune a little, water enough, deadheading most mornings
it's my piece of earth to let grow and I just step aside
nothing cheers the heart like a blue morning glory or a large happy sunflower
But more than anything it is the habitat that I enjoy most of all where all are welcome, including the hawk
he has to eat too.
I'm glad I took pictures of my garden...they are medicine for the coming cold

He's Back!

One of the many hawks that invades my Eden...sorry the photo quality is so poor, I took it through my patio door. I was finally getting around to paying some bills and there outside..trouble. I had been enjoying the morning watching the 6 squirrels running around scratching and digging,flying up and around,whirling like acrobats throughout the trees,when all activity stopped. Hmmm. Ah hah! I quick grabbed my camera and snapped away...and then he gave me a nasty eye and lifted off and was gone. I've never told my DH that I have counted 6 squirrels, but I'll be sure to tell him about the hawk. Why bore him with details...hehe

 

An Old Dusted Off Poem

I just couldn't get to blogging yesterday and today isn't much better. But I was able to find an old poem,written about 4years ago at a poetry workshop. We were given the word "interior". We could interpret it any way we wished. This was my take. I haven't looked at it since then until today. It's not bad,needs work,but hey,here it is:

 

Interior

The house inside.
The things you rest upon,eat upon,weep across.
Aged things,handed down,stolen.
Things you live with because you want to.

Interior
Reached by going into,down to,or sometimes
up to,secret cobweb cubbies,
broken parts,live wires.

A frontier space of old growth forests
and raging rivers
where things can hide from the hunter

Interior,
the neglected inside of many
a freshly painted house.

********************************************************

We only got ten minutes to write a poem...so go easy on me.
My family is on their way back to California... me sad.

Tonight I will miss their kisses & "goodnight gamma"

Lines and Circle

 

I love structure in the garden. I need structure in my life. This is an interesting pairing of line and circle. Add a dash of mother nature's colored leaves and you've got something for the eye to pause on.
I paused quite a bit today. Little guy woke up with a fever and a very nasty cough. Off he went to Immediate Care with grandpa and his mom while I stayed behind watching over the other two who were sick with colds and hadn't gotten much sleep last night. I sat with a hot cup of coffee and just thought. Living is so fragile,like the tellis in the above picture made of bent wood.

Unlike the brick wall behind it, it will probably only last a few years at best. But look at the beauty, the right touch in that garden to soften the wall. Structure is the overlooked ingredient in the garden,otherwise there is a an uneasiness there, or a scatteredness....as in life.

Handsome,my feral cat, showed up to get fed, and I swear he gave me one of those kitty eye things. Happy cat eyes, that's the only way I can describe it. When I opened the door to feed him, about 6 mourning doves fled from the Horsechestnut tree enmasse. They make a shrill sound when they flee...Who do they make it for? Each other? Their perceived enemy? Thought after thought floated through my mind and before I knew it I had forgotten my worry. The joy of gifts freely given if you're there.

I've been on the lookout for lines lately. Lines always seem to go somewhere, if only into the distance. But a circle, now that is God's line. It returns into itself,and yet goes on and on.
And I see it everywhere,too.

All is well.

 

another visitor

 

This one is a Junco. An old german woman from my old church first introduced these birds to me when I was 26. She called them Junkies. So you can imagine how embarrassed I was when I identified another one like him to my neighbor.
I can still her laughing...

Quick get the camera

 

I have never seen a woodpecker at a birdbath. He must be into mosaics.
Not sure if he is a Downy or Hoary.

He wouldn't pose.