We Will Never Pass This Way Again

With rest my sanity returns, and with it my mundane life as it sadly turns that way when daylight lessons. Then the challenges of finding fun and magic increase, though it’s the little things that are magical.

Even a moment of being in it, after a life of zooming around it, my mind twirling above my body as escaping from it since the age of 8 has been necessary to survive.

When things feel boring, that is when all is well. Because chaos has been the norm. Boring is peace. So look into every moment. It will not pass this way again.


The sun comes out and with it well-being. The warmth penetrating like a hug. After ten days of dreariness it is welcomed full heartedly. Walking the meadow, kissed by the sun, everything looks brighter especially my mood.

Monarchs circling the sweet scented butterfly bushes swirl over me as if to say, don’t despair, summers not over. My feet feel lighter, and all looks more interesting, out of my head and in to the present.

Todays picks from our meadow…


Maybe Samuel brought Covid home from the coffee shop but was asymptomatic. Maybe it’s just sinuses, but with a fever? No one likes being sick, but for me there’s a fear with it that feels scarier than feeling ill.

Spending a good portion of life not being in my body, when it goes awry- that is scary. Unfamiliar with it in healthier times, when off-kilter the territory becomes even more foreign.

When running from yourself, it isn’t possible to care for yourself. Being disconnected how could it?

But these last weeks, especially when night after night a routine of good sleep has developed, and each morning time is spent just being, staying, and not running, a connection with all elements of myself brings a wholeness unfounded.  

With it an ability to care for each aging part which needs more attention than ever before. It is not easy to keep an old car running, spare parts, tune-ups, grease, all sorts of attentive focus.

But when chaos and anxiety fill up my tank, that’s all there is. When peace replaces the foaming buzz, miracles blossom, the miracle of well-being, and feeling there is a place for me here now.


Patricia’s gardens…

The stress of trying to camp, then returning knowing that was the last time, wired my body up in such a way that it has taken a few days to calm down. The relief of being home is heavenly phenomenal.

To add to the stress, some people with age develop allergies from pollen due to shrinkage of the nasal passages. Thought my luck was with me, yet not so.

Such seemingly little things throw me off and need tending to.

“Samuel, I am a strong girl but have become so delicate!” I plaintively said while watching the evening news.

He looks at me and nods. Not much of a talker unless it’s about electrical workings or building something, then it’s my turn to zone out.

But still, to have a partner, a caring, devoted, loyal partner is everything to me. And a home with all the beauty ever conceived, knowing that the secret gardens occurred by my hands, all mine. Dug out shovelful by shovelful, then sifted together with peat moss, manure, and sand, because clay is not social to growing flowers.

And experimenting through the years before finding hardy plants that withstand the winters and a gardener who will not baby them. And then?

The magic of sitting among them, their beauty calming me even as they begin to wane with the coming of fall, giving up their seeds to store for next year’s planting of annuals in pots scattered about the patio. The perennials needing no care because they come up right in the earth every year all on their own.

No more buying expensive annuals when it’s so much fun nurturing flowers from seeds, like babies without stress. There are a few that display gorgeous color early and all summer; cosmos, zinnias, and marigolds with their bouncy bright yellows and oranges.

Aging is hard. Leaving one stage to another but still stuck in the past, moving on to the here and now was a mess. I made a mess of it. And it took a long time. Hanging on to Shane, making their marriage harder, making his whole life more difficult with my chaotic needs that no one can fill but me.

It is a life’s effort to let go. Even yesterday after they left from my grandson’s 13th birthday celebration, his entry into the teenage years, that empty nest pang struck a gentle jab.

But in letting go, wonders already present are noticed, inhaled, soaked up… bringing joy- funny bunny too young to know it has to run into the tall grasses to become invisible, not on the path right in front of me at every lap. The white spotted fawn looking up startled jumping away with its fluffy tail bobbing. And the golden crimson glow of the morning sun peeking through, each sunrise its own spectacle taking my breath away.


Though unwilling to venture out ever again for an overnight anywhere, my spirit is strong, my soul heard. Sleep does not come any place but home in my own bed. Selling the camper is being done happily, good-bye.

The pleasures and indulgences right here are abundant. Rather than feeling as if courage has left me, I am an explorer with great strength and bravery.

To be still, sit still, to go into the depths of me takes a will unfounded because chaos has driven me, not peace. Peace finds me among the frogs croaking creek-side, the fronds around it waving breezily, the birds swooping down for insects, and mother soothing my ragged interior.

A robin hopped ahead of me as if to say good-bye. Then another. They have not been seen since. My belief is that they know how much I love them, and miss them when they go. But stopped to say, “We’ll be back.”

As winter approaches and my spirit tends to drift downward, it is the beauty of nature which restores and transforms.


‘Just do it.’ (thank you Nike) Choosing to say no to someone and yes to my own needs was difficult. Already packed after agreeing to a visit to my younger brother’s new lake house, one where I’ve never been and am unlikely to visit due to PTSD issues, my email went out this morning:


Spirit is willing, body is not. Not sleeping last two nights, and chest is tight with real concerns over the many challenges of taking a trip. Can’t be anywhere but home, and near familiar medical services too. My body can become very ill overnight. Last time over a red pepper flake. Sick for two weeks needing an antibiotic. Also, long car rides are hard and scare me.

But more so, my being is not home inside myself unless home. I become disconnected easily.

I want to so much, my bags are already packed, pills for morning and night and other stuff to keep it running right.

Did this to Shane too. Booked a week in the woods and had to bow out.

I must accept my limitations with a little grace. Just can’t do what comes so easily for others. A life of cortisol bursts, and adrenaline rushes over simply someone coming up behind me causes a blood curdling scream to escape my lips taking a long while for my body to calm down. That drains a body over time, and mine is such.

I am content, and happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. So I am OK. But I cannot take this on no matter how much I want to. It is just too much. It’s only been about three weeks now where there’s been better sleep. Upsetting the new miracle of good sleep on most nights is too risky.

Samuel wants to come despite knowing how hard it is for me. It is hard for others to understand. But I need to take care of my body.

Love you,


My body unwound, shoulders relaxed, and the vice on my chest let go. So hard to meet my own needs over his. His deep pain is so raw and evident drawing me to meet them. His loneliness as vast as mine once was. His interest in me is having warm bodies around to admire him.

Can’t. Really can’t. Just do it, care for my own needs over another’s.


The misty morning starts out cool, mysterious fog hovering above ground like rings of Jupiter. Birds just awakened sing harmoniously and in stereo, some from the hedgerow, and others as if answering, from the meadow. The soft cooing of the mourning birds soothe.

The cat drifts on and off the back porch, sometimes darting at the screen toward the bird daring to come close to the hummingbird feeder, but zooming off the other one where it can get a sip without being hunted.

A quiet Sunday morning, no breeze, still, just like my being, taking in a breath to just be.  

photo by Patricia


A mourning dove coos,

The rooster crows,

Sharp edges soften,

As I come home.

While the pale of dawn softens the night sky, and kitty scouts the porch from one screen to another following a bird, the candle all lemony wafting upward with the flickering light, my shoulders drop relaxed, and they haven’t been that way for too long of a time in this glorious burst of summer splendor.

Some things taking me away from myself to the land of worry, upset, and removal from my home- internal and external. Sleep deprived, sad, displaced, worried about all that cannot be controlled, and making up more as the rat brain gets moving faster in my head.

Then answers come, the answer is that there is none. Just live. Live with love, gentleness, and grace. Mostly with yourself, all else flows from there. Live as the person you were meant to be. Feel her inside, the power, beauty, and soft flowing energy. Live now, because each moment comes then is gone. Live.


Take the day

Like a star

On the tip

Of a moon

And enjoy.

Maybe instead of take, which implies force, it’s more so soak it in. Let it in with all parts of my being. This thought descends along with feelings usually run from. The golden orb peeks her face above the creek casting beams along my path while mist rises, the sun’s warmth meeting cool waters. Absorb the day, absorb myself by accepting the sorrows, and the joys.

Let it be, let me be.