She spent the night and as always we had such fun: making valentines full of glitter, doing puzzles together, talking, laughing, and the time went so fast. Before having to leave she said (to my delight), “I’m sad to go.”

“Well, how about next time I have a craft waiting for us to do?”, I asked.

She smiled and said, “Flowers!”

The very next morning my search came up with two great ideas, hyacinths and peonies.

And our glittery Valentine’s fun…


A rare night of sleeping through, what wonders, then the usual rolling around back and forth. You’d think me a rowboat on waves.

The rain before Christmas is odd, with a drop from the 40’s to one-digit numbers by nightfall with a coming blizzard.

Warm and cozy by the fire I’ll be with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.

Frosty Morning Walk

After the first ten minutes of removing my glove to take photos, that had to stop because my fingers were freezing in such frigid temps.

“Did you know the animals talk to me?” I asked my grand-daughter one day.

She smiled in response while I added, “They do. The birds hop along tree to tree all the way down to the creek. And the bunnies stop, sitting still, letting me close, wondering why is this fairy nymph up so early.”

The magic of the meadow is curative, mystical, and wonderous.


Every precious moment comes and goes, then is gone forever except in memories. Enjoy each one if you can.

If consumed in thought, or worry, the moment will be missed. These are my musings while walking in the dark before the birds even rise. The last episode of self given beatings over my challenges that are no fault of my own have dissipated till another round comes. Energy returns because sleep, good rejuvenating sleep does too.

Taking the lantern swinging at my side, it swipes the earth back and forth with my stride. A cotton ball tailed bunny, perplexed at this human walking so early, frozen in place till finally hopping away when coming very close.

The stars on a clear night shimmering, a bare wisp of light beginning to appear over the hill with each lap. Who gets up so early if not having to work?

These questions do me no good, as the answer is always… my body! So why not enjoy it? Lap after lap brings my blood alive. All my senses are revigorated, recapturing the sublime magic of summer- though the morning goddess is not yet up to reveal her mystical secrets. But the critters are awake scurrying in my lamplight as we share all the wonderful charms of nature.

Photo by Cory while visiting over Thanksgiving. Very young children give need to rise early…


The morning crisp with frost called me out as the sun rose sparkling the ground, bushes, and meadow grasses. And back in again for the camera as the beauty was irresistible. Yet my camera cannot catch all the glimmery rainbows dancing off the frozen droplets touched by morning’s kiss of sunrise.


Though the wafts of color throughout summer in the meadow have come and gone, leaving behind mostly browns of every hue, there is still stately magic to be had. Donning protective gardening gloves, the proud thistles were conquered without injury, their regal stance attractive despite the dull hue.

My mind saw something else, a vase sparkling as if snow had been hurled on them. After drying it was time to spray them white, but the seeds left behind plus the difficulty handling them due to vast amount of prickles made me throw them onto the rocks edging the garden in disgust.

Samuel was more hopeful and with encouragement said, “Maybe the paint will hold in the rest of the seeds.”

But his words drifted in the air left behind me on my way down the meadow looking for a replacement plant to adorn for a holiday craft project… milkweed pods! Peering out the window later, there was Samuel, spraying those darn spiky thistly thorns before tackling the milkweeds making me smile.

I had about given up on them, but after dipping their heads in glue then pouring on glitter, they shimmered just like my mind’s eye saw them, and no seeds falling off to make a mess.

A lover of Christmas there is plenty of Christmas crap in the basement to pick from. No way is there a need to buy more. But if Mother Nature cares to offer free supplies without added expense, then why not?

Come into the meadow with me?



Old strings of beads around wire wreath…

Wrapping ribbon around a tired old grapevine wreath, then more stringed beads… simple yet elegant.

Milkweed pods before, a project still in the making…

Make My Own Light

When it’s dark, damp, and cold, make a fire! Make my own light. The warmth penetrated, flames lighting up the black morning till dawn breaks offering enough light to drift through the meadow. It’s eeriness in the pre-dawn gave me chills of uneasiness during a walk when barely bright enough to see.

Back to the fire as the sun began to rise, visited by Chippy who stared at me for quite a long while, later realizing he was giving me hell because his new hole under the patio had been once again cemented up, as if to say, “What the fuck!”

Samuel goes out almost daily to cement up yet another hole. My take on these things is you can’t beat Mother Nature. We’ll see who wins. Just hope Chippy forgives me, poor thing!

Photos by Patricia

Hill beyond meadow…


Heard someone on TV saying, ‘my Mom keeps a tree up all year,’ and my wheels went spinning in the direction of more gaiety as the days grow dark. Already upping the holidays to the max by bringing out the fake tree the day after Halloween, it is moved up further. Squeamish about being different, why not carry the freak flag proudly?

It does brighten up these very dark mornings and my mood, so why not? Now my thoughts brighten, as Christmas has been exciting for me since high-school drawing a calendar of December marking each day. And through the year things are thrown into the ‘Christmas closet’ so that by Thanksgiving when the rush begins, my work is done.

It is in the little things that pleasure, fun, and peace are found. Now it’s on to cutting thistles in the meadow, painting on glue, and dumping snow-like sparkles on them for a vase full of beauty. All sorts of sugarplums dance in my head. Halloween is still magic, with Shane bringing the kids over to trick-or-treat and stay long enough for cider and donuts.

Which also means a trip to the cider/apple farm and bringing home a half bushel of apples to make into applesauce. Grand-kids ask for my well-known applesauce doused with cinnamon and love. That trip also includes a gallon of fresh-pressed cider. So holidays are merged this year and there’s no one to complain or stop me. Samuel hardly even notices.


Is there enough being done, accomplished? This isn’t saving the world or anyone in it, but… it is enough? You are enough. A kinder voice began soothing my being with soft acceptance.

Getting up, wondering what to do with the day. There’s no script, no one to tell me, ‘Go to school,’ or my own alarm clock waking me for work, or to get the kids up for school.

There is only a clean slate and it’s up to me to fill it. And some mornings the openness of that overwhelms with the scope of possibilities that are severely limited by what can really be accomplished.

A body old, tired, and not working like my mind thinks it can, is capable of less than what is desired. Is that enough? It is enough. You are enough.

When not knowing what to do, bake a cake. Happy Birthday my son…