Sitting on the frond porch late in the day with a sleeveless dress warm in the sun. Is it spring? A gaggle of geese fly by squawking loudly in unison.
Peacefulness fills me up. This luscious break is ever so precious amid the winter depression that dampens my spirit.
But this year a discovery to uplift me, venturing outside in the pre-dawn. That pleasure is usually missed in winter due to dark days which now have turned the corner and each day is longer and brighter- out in the meadow before the birds wake, walking as I do in summertime but without the sun.
Our joys often need founding by ourselves. What brings joy? Scrapbooking is another way to fill my heart with warmth, gathering both sons photos filling books for the grandkids with captions as some are just learning to read.
Bright colored cardstock with fancily trimmed pictures done so easily with scissors that cut them that way, glued onto paper embellished with stickers and other eye-captivating, meaningful additions.
The kids cherish my gifts, one grand-son only 2 having a shelf special for Nana’s books. This pleasures my heart as much as his, and gives the kid in me childish things to do with a grown-up twist satisfying both parts of me.
In winter especially, it is a time to seek out the things I love to do and do them. Quiet past-times, uneventful for some, fill me up contentedly.
Like Dumbledore’s magic wand changing the flag colors in the Great Hall, the meadow flows with the season; first buttercups, green tall grasses with glowing butter yellows, then daisies joining in the dance of gaiety.
And now? The meadow bursts with the lace of Queen Anne.
She opens her flowing robes welcoming me, this morning goddess. The chilly creek being hit by warmth creating her once again. The air so cold the thought of a winter coat, but my thick jacket, hat and scarf will do. July and so cold? Later in the day, a sundress, and a swim.
The magic formed by cool meeting warms enthralls me every time.
As health returns so to does emotional, spiritual, and mental well-being. When gloomy thoughts invade, or the past, or the future, be with NOW feeling my body, noticing the surroundings even in the darkness.
Sticking with now, usually having to repeat the mantra as thoughts drift, brings the moment into me… living it instead of wasting it. It is like meditating while moving.
Your choice, be gloomy or joyful, and when healthy the later is so much easier to choose.
After glittering my own grapevine wreath, it seemed only fair to offer the same prep work to my women friends coming Sunday. Oh, what a project, with glittery floors tramped around leaving sparkles all over the house!
Wiping a few off my eyelids, it is with satisfactory pleasure because crafting of any kind brings peace and warmth. And each wreath is glittered with loving thoughts about the friend it is for and how much delight she will have decorating it.
And hopefully she will know just how much she means to me, the making of the wreath after collecting the vines, twirling the vines in the light rain because moisture is needed to manipulate them. Then, more pleasure than work, walking among the pines we planted to collect pinecones, the branches softly brushing my arm as if to say, ‘hello friend.’
And the extensive time and mess! Glue dripping all over the table in globs after painting it on thick so the glitter will stick, then a clear overcoat so that they won’t have glitter all over their own houses. The area around the stove where they dried still sparkling from glitter remnants.
Such fun readying for Christmas, maybe more fun than the event itself.
Preparations for an upcoming gathering of women friends includes the offering of grapevine wreaths to decorate that were made earlier when cutting down the vines so that they are trimmed for next year’s growth. Pinecones from trees we planted were gathered, dried, then sparkled as if snowy.
Unable to stop myself, mine is decorated which frees me up to help others if needed. This gathering of women friends over the years has sustained me in so many ways.
Without the taboo of talking about my real life, and without the stigma that seals my lips and makes me phony so that you will be comfortable, I can be myself. I can also accept real love and caring from those whose own self-worth isn’t caught up with the secrets of the past.
I can be who I am, and who I could ever be with their loving encouragement, daring to test my wings then fly.
They know what happened to me and don’t keep me silent about it. Which means no push to want to. It’s only when you silence me that I want and need to speak. It’s only when you deny my truth that truth needs to be told.