Press Publish ~ Portland. Celi’s there you know. Hers was the first blog I followed when first starting mine in May of 2011. Her blog is a treat. If you haven’t already you should check it out. Some sessions will be live streamed, you have to register for tickets. Her session will begin at 1:45. There will also be so many helpful sessions, I hope to catch this one, as I am new to WordPress Premium. I am a little excited. Here is my very first post, have you read it? It seems so long ago, so much has happened since that day in May. There have been failures and unexpected successes. Moments to embrace and lessons in letting go. Through it all, I have laughed, cried, and learned. Delightfully alive. Be well, Jess
Is there some deep down craving, a story left untold, a path grown over from lack of treading? Or is it just me that has to push, to find detours, over mountainous obstacles, brought to a dead end; only to turn around, catch my breath only to be propelled forward yet again.
Its only human, I suppose, to want to hide from change. To stay snugged in your box of contentment. Why venture out; it’s warm and cozy there.
We should leave our lives open to serendipity; creative souls are not meant to be boxed in. There are discoveries out there that may make our hearts quiver, or shake us to our souls.
We have dreams, we have fears to conquer. (Well, Sidney; I do)
We have an adventure ahead. Let’s not waste a moment. (You’re not coming with me, are you Sidney?)
How does the saying go? ” “I’m an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way!” (No wonder Sidney doesn’t wanna come.)
Maybe Cicely will come? Maybe not.
I guess, there really is no sense in complaining, we are all in the same boat. The weather has the upper hand. Mother nature must be hung up somewhere else and forgot we are stuck in winter. It’s like an old record that skips, the tune moves ahead just bit only to be bounced to where it began.
We take advantage, although somewhat reluctantly, of the quiet days. Soon the pace will pick up. They’ll be gardens to till and beds to prepare. The peas are ready to go in, along with the spinach, chard and other hearty greens.
I keep telling myself to be patient, enjoy the here and now; rest while you can. There will be busier days ahead.
Yes, Lexi, they’ll be time to play. But today we wait and plan, plot, and prepare.
Richard the Yorkishire Terrier/Papillon mix (2 yrs)
Diezel the Treeing Walker Hound (3mos)
Finnegan the Bernese Mountain Dog/Poodle aka Bernedoodle (7yrs)
Lexi the Black Labrador Retriever (6yrs)
Enjoy the wait.
The first day of spring is a perfect time to build your home; at least this couple thinks so.
Just outside my living-room window a sparrow family is building their nest in the Forsythia just swelling with buds.
It’s not a terribly pleasant day for building. The sun is struggling to be seen through the clouds and we expect snow to fall.
She is dressed rather plainly today, you wouldn’t want to muss your best finery would you. I don’t think she expected visitors.
She simply won’t be seen this way in public and takes her leave. Thank you very much.
Or perhaps she has stepped out for a few items of decoration to enhance the new abode.
I think he’s decided to use this time to tidy up his appearance. I do believe she’ll appreciate his efforts. (or perhaps he has an itch)
Where did she get off to; she can’t think I can do this alone.
Oh, there she is.
Do like how things are coming along? No? Oh well, it’s just the foundation.
Maybe she doesn’t know I’m here…
I believe she can see me now.
Let me show off my chest a little; she’ll like that.
How embarrassing, she didn’t even notice.
Perhaps I should get back to work, she might like that more…I have to impress her somehow.
Enjoy your day.
Break out the inspiration box; I’m looking for Spring.
It has to be here somewhere, it just does. No matter that thermometer out side my door reads 7 degrees. Look away.
It is Spring tomorrow, the calendar said so.
I hear birds singing their chilly songs.
There are animals who are waiting to awaken; the sun’s warmth waiting to tell them it’s time.
Be gone with you Old Man Winter, how can we miss you if you never leave. Don’t worry you won’t soon be forgotten.
We have seeds to start and gardens to sow.
There are babies to be born and eggs to be laid.
My crocus’ are desperate to break from the frozen depths.
Where is Spring? If you have seen her, could you please tell she is missed.
And just like that, it’s mud season. Grab your muck boots and lets dive right in. You’d think with all of the snow and ice we have been driving in, we’d be happy to be rid of it, and you are right, mostly.
Winter’s opinion of our driving skills matters very little now. Should we fancy ourself worthy of praise? We made it through, we survived relatively unscathed, free of this foreboding stretch of time. Now it is giving way to the promise of spring, but getting from one to the other required passing through an ominous complication called, mud season, or pot hole season, call it what you will.
The problem with this season? No, it is not merely the gobs of the gooey, sloppy, boot sucking glop carried in your boots or paws. No, it is far more sinister than that.
This, this makes your road a mighty opponent, a duel between you (your vehicle)and the mud-rutted road. It separates the men from the boys; the wheat from the chaff.
First,logistics come into play; you must figure out where to direct your wheels. The decisions come fast and furious, vigilance indispensable, lest you take too long to decide, even a moment of indecision can slow your momentum. Do you ride on the high part or the low part to stay out of the ditch? You follow the tire ruts that came before you, don’t even think about forging your own path? You must abandon your instincts, and drive like hell. Bottoming out is a fatal blow in an area that is mostly uphill and down and mostly dirt roads. If you are venturing out in New England this weekend, don’t leave your gumption at home.
Mud-season, a battle of two, a season of indeterminate duration when spring and winter struggle for dominance. A season you won’t find on your calendar, a season all its own; none of spring’s lovely flowers, or Autumn’s showy colors, none of winter’s white billows of snow, nor summer’s freshly cut green grass, just serious mud.
Winter has yet to yield its grip, the snow is still feet thick near the hedgerow, it’s best it melts slowly. A flooded basement, streams, and rivers would not be a better option.
Common sense and good nature will do a lot to make the pilgrimage of life not too difficult”
– William Somerset Maugham
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.”
– Robert Frost, Two Roads