stories, photographs, adventures…the next chapter
Sunshine’s Macro Monday #33
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I don’t know if the warmer than average winter (so far) is the cause of this larger than average (as far as I know) growth on a fallen birch tree.
All I do know is it seems to mirror how life has been lately.
Mushrooming – everywhere – out of control.
At least that’s the way it feels.
How about you?
Inspired by Cee’s Flower of the Day
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Is it just me or does Valentine’s Day seem like a really long time ago?
Was it only one month? Four weeks exactly…on February 14th…when my husband handed me this stunning bouquet of six yellow roses?
Happy Valentine’s Day! We tried to figure out how many Valentine’s Days we had spent together, but settled on “over 40…”
Since that day, my life has taken off on an alternate trajectory. Or so it seems.
The morning of the 15th we discovered water had leaked into our bathroom from the condo above us. Our upstairs neighbor left her faucet running unattended into a clogged sink. Water poured through our bathroom ceiling. In condo land, she isn’t held financially responsible. And so it began…the reports…phone calls…repairs…cleanup…costs. The worry about mold. The hours I’ll never get back. Finished just yesterday.
There was a happy four day interlude during a trip – which may be my last one for a long while – to Washington DC to spend time with my children and grandson.
Reports of a new virus started popping up in the news during that visit – the 3rd week of February – but I paid it no mind. That’s happening in China after all.
Then a week ago, news of a crisis affecting one of my sisters activated an intense worry-filled texting chain and phone calls with extended family I had not been in close touch with for many years. However, as many of us realize, a crisis – a matter of life and death crisis – can open a space and lower boundaries – at least for a while. Because…it’s family and you love them. We reach across the divide…anxiously searching for answers. Solutions. Each day and night fraught with worry. Feeling helpless and intermittently hopeless. Emotional support can only do so much.
Today is looking somewhat brighter. Hopefully her crisis has passed enough to be manageable. For now. We cautiously breathe just a bit easier.
The texting chain has now switched to the coronavirus and its affect on all of our lives. Another serious and potentially deadly situation. More anxiety piles on.
Sixty four texts greeted me this morning filled with humorous memes, cartoons and reports of people searching for toilet paper. Long lines at the grocery store. Stockpiling in case of quarantine. The family texting chain continues. Desperate for connection. In a new crisis.
Four weeks ago was Valentine’s Day.
Six yellow roses brightened my day.
Inspired by V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #87: Morning
What do mornings mean to you?
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My soul never thinks of beginning to wake up for other people till lunch-time, and never does so completely till it has been taken out of doors and aired in the sunshine. Who can begin conventional amiability the first thing in the morning? It is the hour of savage instincts and natural tendencies
Countess Van Arnim
Amen!
There’s a reason I have no photographs of sunrises. I am still asleep – or not yet fully conscious – that early in the day. My mornings need to evolve. I shift into fully awake mode after drinking an oversize mug of coffee. Plus finishing breakfast and the morning newspaper’s mix of news…both happy and not.
Empty nest retirement definitely has its pluses.
When I was growing up, however, my weekdays began at high speed. School day mornings…a blur…
Get Ready For School Hurry Up You’ll Miss The Bus! Finish your breakfast! Come Back You Forgot Your Lunch! Hurry! The Bus Is Coming! The Bus Is Coming!
Childhood weekends – thankfully – were a different story…
Early on a Saturday morning…the year I was 9: my 7 ½ year old sister, 6 year old brother and I would tiptoe down the hall of our small ranch style home. Careful not to disturb our sleeping parents.
If our 2+ year old baby sister was awake and willing to be quiet, she joined us.
SHHHHH!
A carpeted hallway covered the short distance from our bedrooms to the living/dining room. After just a few quick trips we had gathered all the toys we needed. Since the black & white television was in my parents’ room at the time, we were on our own to entertain ourselves.
And entertain we did.
The Barbies – (with friend Midge) – strutted around straight legged showing off their tiny don’t-step-on-them-with-your-bare-feet shoes and stretchy outfits. Ken made an appearance, but usually as an afterthought. My sister’s pink Barbie car transported B&K in a circular route under the dining room table…often without their clothes on. Sometimes Ken’s arm was removed and inserted in his torso backwards. Creativity on the loose. I’ll admit those adventures were mostly my idea. My sister loved Barbie like crazy, but I was quickly bored. Hence the unusual Saturday morning escapades. Which we all considered quite clever and hysterical.
My brother brought to the excitement an assortment of small green plastic army men, a GI Joe and an array of stuffed animals – many based on cartoon characters. Yogi Bear. Huckleberry Hound. Barney Rubble. Bugs Bunny – with a string…which when pulled…gave voice to What’s Up Doc?
Despite the differences in size and species, plush bunnies & bears interacted with dolls without a single problem. In whispers and hushed tones. Barbie to Yogi: Where’s the pic-a-nic basket?. Bugs to Ken: Got any carrots?. And so on.
Miraculously the 3 (or 4) of us played seamlessly together during those early childhood mornings. We didn’t argue. Or poke each other. We took turns. It was quite remarkable. And unusual.
Our common goal: Don’t wake up mommy and daddy!
Those Saturday hours with my sisters and brother are precious in memory. They represent moments of our best times together.
Reality and its rivalries shifted back to normal when my parents woke up. And the day started for real.
Until the next weekend…when the crowd gathered once again.
Ragtag Daily Prompt: Sunshine
Inspired by Lens-Artists Challenge #87: Reflections
…we invite you to be creative to find any reflective surfaces to show us your reflection photographs.
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My most recent favorite reflection happened in January during a walk on the beach. The tide was lower than I’d ever seen before. The afternoon light caught the clouds above while the beach transformed into a mirror.
Magical.
I had driven to this beach with an overwhelming need to clear my head. Walking along the ocean…listening to the waves hit the shore…the blue sky meeting the water in a far off horizon.
It never fails me.
A few years ago I caught this moment during a walk close to sunset.
Last summer, reflections appeared on a pond at the Shelburne Museum in Vermont.
This past week has been quite difficult on a personal level…which drove me to the beach again yesterday. No reflections this time…but these photos brought it all back.
The peace. The calm. The comfort.
Gotta love the power of the images we capture – as they transport us back to a healing moment in time.
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(I resisted inserting the Supremes rendition of Reflections, as it kept going through my mind while writing this post…it’s funny how songs just pop up at the most unexpected times)
Inspired by Sunshine’s Macro Monday #32
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Apparently acorns survive through every season. Even when they come apart at the seams. I suppose I should find that inspiring in and of itself.
I spotted one on a recent walk through the woods, lying among trail debris.
Lit up by the sun.
Inspired by Nancy Merrill’s Photo a Week Challenge: Red
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO OR TWO THAT HAS RED AS EITHER THE MAIN OR AN ACCENT COLOR.
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My Oma loved strawberries in any way shape or form.
Strawberries and whipped cream. Strawberry shortcake.
Strawberry pie. Strawberry muffins. Strawberry cheesecake.
Strawberries sprinkled with sugar – just enough to draw out some of the sweet juices.
Not too much. Not too little.
Honey, did you bring me any strawberries? she’d often ask when she lived nearby during her last years. Not always easy when it was off season, but I tried.
She owned a set of small juice glasses featuring strawberries in the design. A few faded – but survived over time – and I was able to save one.
It always makes me smile.
Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Glasses, Cups or Saucers
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Cases of stemmed glassware caught my eye at the Shelburne Museum last summer.
They were on display at the museum’s “General Store” which contained artifacts from the early 1900s.
If these glasses could talk…
Inspired by V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #86: Cliché
Those pesky clichés pop up everywhere. This week let’s have fun with them.
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Not all clichés make sense to me…
Don’t cry over spilled milk comes to mind…
I never believed that one, as my mother always cried over the spilling of beverages of any kind – especially milk – when I was a kid. Fit to be tied, she’d start freaking out and crying if one of her children reached thoughtlessly for the salt shaker and accidentally knocked over his or her cup. She’d have a cow as milk soaked the tablecloth and puddled on the floor.
Plain and simple…I grew up believing milk spilling was a major personal flaw deserving of tearful high drama.
Take it from me…crying over spilled milk happens more often than you think. Rest assured…that cliché does not always ring true.
The calm before the storm? – right before the milk spilled. That one makes sense. Mealtime with my siblings was usually giggly and spirited, but calm…ish.
On the other hand…
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…
And hopefully…time heals all wounds…
Or perhaps…laughter IS the best medicine.
To help you live happily ever after…
One day at a time.
And now…to circle back…
Be careful with that glass of milk…
Better safe than sorry.
one letter UP ~ diary 2.0 