The following showed up on my computer this weekend…not magically, of course, but because of a curious click on a file titled “misc. musings”. Anyway, it may have been a previous post, I really do not know, but what it is to me now, is a launching pad…a “note to self”. It is a mission statement of sorts, one I connected to and in celebration, I have put new pictures on my blog header and resurrected my FB page. and made a humble, and “sketchy” commitment to write several times a week…it’s soul food for me and I need it. Anyway, read if you care to…
A blank page and a new day sit before me…I can easily fill this page with positive attitude and observations, but the day, not so easily. I persist with my art. I have found this reason to write and it soothes me and I have always had a love affair with paints – that outlines me. What becomes the problem is transferring these thoughts and “clichés” into the blank day – that sometimes eludes me. I understand and love the idea of this brand new day – this gift to unwrap and do with what needs to be done – I get that, but somehow, during the mist of it all I let go and I become reactive to things that don’t matter – that is why this blog was started. It is a place to talk to myself and to you if you care to hear – about keeping superficial things at bay and focusing on the things that do matter.
I know that this kind of “encouragement” is all over social media – quotes dangle from nearly every post and advice and inspirational stories assault you every time you open a tab. I wonder why we need all of this inspiration to get through our lives? Or do we? I remember in my youth before that outside world was constantly on my doorstep bombarding me and trying to make me into someone to function in this contrived society, I went into the woods (sorry to Henry David for even associating myself with his genius) – and I walked and I noticed the dew and the sky and the garden that was nearby and I heard the solitude the sounds of the birds made and I heard what was in my head and what I heard was ME – not this clutter that is continually posted and attacks your identity, messes with your thoughts and dilutes your self-esteem. I have this strange idea that Nature provides us with the answers and I worry that we see less and less of Her and more and more fabrication.
Ok, enough rambling. I have finished my coffee and have raised my awareness level – this new day is ahead of me and I feel gratitude- it is a special gift. I will treat it as though it will never be here again and at its end, I plan to come back to this place where I write and hopefully realize my success.
The first thing I will do is cut a handful of the gardenias I see from my kitchen window and bring them into the house where their fragrance will infuse my thoughts with a time of my youth and cause me to remember my muse, Miss Sue. I noticed plums from my yard and half of a watermelon that scream summer to me in the refrigerator – that sounds like breakfast. If you are here with me, I hope you find your peace within this day
I did not return on the night I said I would, the night I was supposed to write about my “adjustment” – busy I suppose. I am here now though, after a walk around the yard early in the morning. It is different then. I see and hear things that are not there when the sun is declining. Because it was so early, I got the best plums that had fallen from my Santa Rosa – before the birds. I also saw the bees getting ready for their journey, gathered and hovering as though they were waiting for that family member that is always the last to be ready and then launching anxiously out into the woods. I got my shoes wet from the dew and I heard the slight sound of a baby bird and the noisiness and aggression of the mockingbirds. I snapped a magnolia and checked for tassels on the pecan trees – anticipating autumn. I felt the heat of the summer sun, even in the earliness of the day, and knew it would be a day of supreme growth for my fruit trees and perhaps abuse for my annuals. The world seemed right this morning…let the day begin.
I missed the Full Strawberry Moon rising last night – it was cloudy and I was, regretfully, distracted, but I did see it hang above the trees an hour after its debut. It was pure splendor, this first full moon of summer. Quickly I think of my brief time spent in the Tuscan countryside just a short while ago and try to imagine how beautiful the Strawberry Moon was hovering over the hills of Tuscany, silencing the day and shedding light on the night. I do not like to compare and I concede that this heavenly body was so beautiful shining over the fields of home but because I had previously only visited the Italian countryside in my dreams and because I just had the pleasure of seeing it for real, I had to imagine Tuscany topped with this theatrical presentation of this dramatic celestial orb – the proverbial icing on the cake. Anyway, I missed the rising but stood outside for a while and watched it as it sat atop my house framed by the trees in the woods and for those few moments, only allowed its beauty to tangle there within my thoughts. I hope you saw it too.
Summer is in full bloom here in the Deep South. Today I will pick the last plums from the Santa Rosa and begin to hear the harsh sound of the locust as the thermometer reaches 90 in the middle of the day. Later, at dusk, I will walk through the field to wait again for the now waning moon and to hear the tree frogs and, for yet again another summer of my life, instinctively look for fire flies in the approaching darkness. I think that every year of my life I have seen fireflies – how wonderful that I can claim that.
I took a picture of this small plot of earth to remind me to go there, to amend this place with compost and leaves from the autumn trees and maybe, if I am diligent with my work, I will eat from here – turnips and cruciferous vegetables and carrots and beets. This winter I will make soups from what will grow here and in the spring I will till it again and plant…again. This cycle is the cycle I want to be a real part of, I want my garden to feed me and make me work until I am tired and cause the sunshine to enter my body and help me to stay healthy – this is what this small piece of land can do – if I let it, if I go there.
I am writing this to encourage myself to make this commitment. The garden is not very big – it is something I can do, me and my little rear tine tiller. The Deep South is a wonderful place to grow food and, unfortunately, bugs – they will discourage me, I am certain. I will again research natural sprays on the internet and possibly thumb through old gardening books that sit on my kitchen shelf and try to find a way to co-exist with these creatures from the earth. It can be discouraging. I hope to find my way with this garden for I have had many trials in the past – this one is special. First, it is smaller and that, in itself, gives me confidence. Also, I am more and more committed to providing myself with my own food – the entire process is positive and it is something I can do, me and the bees. The bees will be another entry – I am learning about beekeeping and hope to journal, here, about the journey. Anyway, I will keep you posted on this effort, this challenge I have put on my plate. This is a place I need to be.