Over the Water

Don't you just love ferries? I think they are magic. Living on an island, they are also pretty necessary. This has been a wonderful summer on the island. Filled with outdoor Shakespeare, picnics, sleepovers and the comfort of being wrapped in love by my dear friends. This morning I felt Summer's lovely frayed edges as Autumn shook out her petticoats in the early morning air. Last magical days of summer...Better get back out into it...

Safety and Raspberries

There is a young deer who has taken to napping in my back yard. He lifts his head when I go outside, but doesn't run away. He also eats fresh raspberries and is quite at home. We have a silent agreement about the roses. Sometimes I just watch him out my window as he wanders lazily about. I am struck with how utterly safe he seems to feel.

We all need to feel safe. At home. We need to be able to take a nap. To rest. To simply be. I am honored that my friend seems so comfortable with me. (I hope all my friends do as well, even the two legged ones)

Home Sweet Home

We all need a place to call our own. It doesn't really matter how big or small, a house, an apartment, land, a room of one's own. What matters is a corner in the world that is special to us, that is our nest. Home is where the heart is? Well, I take my heart wherever I go, and everywhere I go isn't exactly home. So what is it? I watch the birds return time and again to their home, their nest. And I think it is simply a matter of that place you return to. A place that wraps itself around you in comfort. That makes you feel safe. And for me, the place that sings to my heart, where I plant my garden, invite friends and family, laugh too loud or cry too long; that is home.

And everything is new again

There was a time, mid winter, when I could not imagine blossoms. Another hard bout in the hospital with Mum and that feeling of helplessness. But, Mum, cat that she is with all nine of her lives, is now planning her garden and I look out on the farm and it has exploded into petals. The fruit trees are waking up and stretching, the bulbs have all thrust themselves forward and my darling robins are everywhere. So, another lesson in trust. I am planning an outdoor Shakespeare festival and suddenly the world is full of possibilities. But right now, most important, is that the garden calls. I cannot help but answer.

Spring on the Wing

I've been watching the birds every morning. The robins are back! And there is a plethora of twittering, singing, flying, dancing birds of all colors everywhere at once. Quite cheeky, some of them. It has become my morning ritual to have tea bundled up on the porch and just watch and listen. Suddenly Spring is in the air. Quite literally. The air is rich with blossoms. The bulbs have all just thrust themselves forward and I am somehow convinced that the birds, the harbingers of Spring's promise, have enticed the flowers to show themselves. In some ways it has been a long winter. And to know my mum will see yet another spring means the world to me. It's impossible not to feel a lift, a feeling that Emily Dickinson was right and that hope really is the thing with feathers.

Light

Today I need a lighthouse. It's the kind of day that feels like the world is shrouded in fog and I need a light to cut through. Of course, hearing that fog horn would help.

There is so much to do that I am nearly paralyzed with it all.

Tomorrow may look different. But sometimes we just need a light to help us through the fog.

Spring Buds

In the earliest hours of the morning, it snowed. I missed it. But I heard about it. By the time I woke, the robins were dancing in the garden and the buds were preparing for their big Debut. Not that it wasn't chilly, mind you. Just that Spring and Winter were having a pretty thorough bicker about who was going to win. And, as much as I do love snow, I have my money on Spring.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

On the Wing

There are moments when the light lifts. Just so. And I can take a deep breath. With that catch in my throat. And maybe I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath for months. Tight. And then release. At last. It's the birds' fault.

Watching the birds in early spring has a kind of tenderness that makes my eyes feel wider. I think about flying with the wonder of a toddler. The birds are gleeful, singing their arias pell mell over the meadow. It's almost as if they are lifting the light themselves.

Fog Light

I love mist and fog. And a Sunday morning surrounded by mist and fog is just dreamy. The kitties are snuggled near the fire and the world is blanketed with softness.

Sometimes the world is too vivid. Too sharp. Everything seems to have mean pointy edges. Mist mornings soothe the edges. They feel like an impressionist painting that I'm inside. Which I will be soon when I head out for a foggy ramble.

So maybe for me, at times, it takes a bit of fog to clear the heart.

White/Wordless Wednesday

Front Porch Love

There is something about sitting on the front porch with your dog. Watching the world go by. Thinking about whether or not to throw the ball or take a walk or, really, just be. And perhaps that's the miracle of a dog. They know how to just be absolutely in the moment. And love you no matter what. There's no agenda, no issues, no crisis. It all just melts away into that special sound of her snorffling breath while sitting on the front porch. And sometimes, if you are very lucky, she'll just lean into you and stay that way for a long, long time.

Moon Rise

There is a wind advisory on the island for tonight. The night sky is clear at times and then suddenly cloudy. The moon, shy tonight, peaks out from behind clouds to show her face. The beach is showing the petticoats of her white caps as the wind picks up. The day was misty and filled with the mystery of magic and wonder that comes with mist and fog. What's around the next corner?

As this new year yawns awake, I am reminded of all the beginnings and endings we experience in this life. There are moments I am sufficed with joy and enchantment as I work the winter garden or walk down to the beach on country lanes. And then it takes me days to recover from the kind of horror that is Haiti right now. And on the small, personal scale, my mum is mending! And sometimes it's all we can do to simply be present with the little things.

So, this blustery night, I am waiting for the storm to hit, the moon to hide and the sea to come alive and dance. And for tonight, that's just enough.