OK, so your mood dropped like a rock in a dry well. And first thoughts upon waking are with the critic whipping me even over decisions that needed to be made for my own well-being.

Good twisted to bad. The overall feeling of blah bleakness, well, you needn’t be victim to it. Though it happens every year it feels like the first time in its depth and scope.

You’ve cleared the critic off the shelf before, many times, and often many times throughout a day. So, do it more, as much as needed.

Just when needing to feel whole and in yourself, don’t abandon you. This is when the most kindness, compassion, and gentleness is needed; the reality of who you are, and all that has been accomplished.

The windows this morning are shut to 44-degree temperatures. Brr… and it is too quiet without birds, crickets, and the happy sounds of squirrels in the trees waking to collect more nuts to hide in the grass. Too quiet.

Resisting the TV or radio, just sit with it. Let it all be felt, what’s there being recognized so that when starting the day it is with wholeness not fakery. Challenges are real, so when taking them on kudos can be absorbed.

Pretending happiness when not? But finding it. Take yourself places, whether indoors or out, to those places of ‘happy.’ You can do it. It is different, as different as the seasons, but you can. The cold causes reflection about what thrills me, and if it’s lost, how to find it.

Making Magic


Tears fall without really knowing why. So let them. The feeling that fall brings isn’t comfortable, enjoyable, or easy. Coming every year doesn’t make it any easier to adjust to.

The best that can be said is that the depression isn’t debilitating, and mostly hidden from others. But hiding? That’s not authentic, at least not from myself. So accept the tears, the nostalgia. Welcome whatever comes.


Sometimes a girl just needs chocolate. If the candy is made with fat free condensed milk, graham crust with just a little margarine, and unsweetened organic coconut, is that considered healthy? Magic bars magically feel good, the molten chocolate swirling my brain chemicals with happy vibes.

After the orgy, just sitting, all day sitting, my body hardly moving, I began to feel better. But it’s so off the mark of should dos, and the critic had to be shut up- yammering away at ‘should and should nots.’

Sometimes it’s not laps around the meadow that cures, but stillness. As summer collapses around me, kissing the pool good-by after Samuel covers it for the season, and all the windows are shut to the cold shutting out the sounds of crickets, birds, and other wildlife, the silence plummets me down to depths I’d forgotten.

Just hardly months ago my being was used to dullness and the down mood of winter. And a friend reminded me of its coziness. It is good to have friends. But it is in me that the will must be found to face every day, because some days it isn’t there as if, not another?

Weak, vulnerable, fallen off the precipice of sunlight and joy into darkness so suddenly, the will of finding that light in other ways almost completely escapes me.

Stillness, not moving, enjoying the rapture of chocolate, all things social norms encourage one NOT to do, as busyness, productiveness, and ‘eating your greens,’ are the goals… quietness ensconcing my most inner being brings me back in to myself- back home.

To Every Season

Though Samuel had opened the pool and it was ready, all of June went by without swimming. And I didn’t mind since the idea of swimming during a month so cool was not inviting.

But yesterday watching him work at closing it? Sadness. Not wanting to give up summer when my mood has been happy (translated- peaceful) and well-being thrived; the warm sunny walks in the meadow, sitting on the patio in the early morn- that will come to an end soon, lamenting the loss, along with coffee on the screen porch even earlier with kitty as companion already snuggling a thick afghan around me on some mornings.

Each season pulls at me, weighing me down by its change till adjustments are made, and self-talk brings centeredness, hence peace. For every season has its splendors but takes effort to fully be in them. The flux of change…

The Coming of Fall

It’s gloomy, cold, matching my mood keeps dropping with the coming of fall. This fact must be accepted again and again with the change of seasons, especially on days that the sun doesn’t shine.

So, what to do to brighten the days instead of ‘falling’ into them? Think of fun things, interesting choices, artsy crafts, or even just a puzzle.  


Restless, not going to sleep, knocking myself out with yet another narcotic, but up three hours later. This is not right, not healthy. What the ‘F’ is going on is beyond me. Eventually some understanding comes concerning my pain, but none is forthcoming.

A friend suggested not to make too much of it. So, going with the flow, coffee is ground, dripped, then sipped on the back porch as usual with the cat at 2 AM.

Then a hot bath.

Maybe putting away the NARCS for awhile and switching back to low dose pot oil, something I vowed not to do, but a person needs sleep. Do I do nothing? Or just keep trying. I’ll take the later.


She opens her arm to greet me, this goddess of morn, her cloak encircling her, the wavering, shimmering beams of fiery golds, reds, and oranges vibrating outward welcoming to the start of another day.

And the rounds in the meadow are mystical, magical, and fulfilling, each lap discovering more; the mist dissipating slowly from the creek’s waters, dew on the meadow grasses and flower blossoms, the fat little rabbit seen each morning in the path hopping away, and Bambi as he crosses the creek to other side, suddenly seeing me, staring, barking, then jumping away over the high foliage.

Another day yawns ahead without worries of job, children, or much of anything and shouldn’t that be a joy? Where did that joy go? Later Samuel pushes the pool cover over to dip in though the day wasn’t hot enough for me, yet his enjoyment pulled me out to risk it.

“The water’s warmer than the air,” he said, smiling.

Joining him, my mind in a whirl, not on the moment, my lamenting an oddity on a stellar summer day, he said, “Enjoy the moment!”

“Hey, that’s what I write on my blog every day!” I said.

“Well, read your own words,” he said, taking another plunge.

So, dipping in and out like a dolphin, shedding the negative dwellings with each dip, my body warmed in the bath-like water, sad memories unhooked floating up to the clouds… moments lived not wasted.

He loves me….

Milkweed where the Monarch’s like to cocoon, the scent as heavenly as lilacs…

Even meadow grass shines in the morning light…
A simple grass becomes the star…


Photos by Patricia (this one earlier in springtime- done by trail cam, the flowers all new)

Waking after a good sleep, a despondency consumed me, a feeling of sadness without knowing why. My immediate reaction was to counteract it by thinking of all the very wonderful things in my life.

Then? A wiser, softer voice. You were made to have feelings. Make space for them, feel them.

Accepting the sadness, yet going on about the morning, especially brightened by calls from both sons before starting their workday, joy coexisted with sadness. Rose petals to collect, the scent filling my home’s interior. Mint to pluck for lemonade, the mint patch deciding on its own place to grow by the lilacs- ever expanding each year… happily so. You can never have enough mint!

Daisies now beginning to dot the meadow dancing with their happy faces. My joy in strolling brought wonders ever changing each day….



Naomi Judd

Thoughts dwell on Naomi Judd. We lost one of us, one of the little girls sexually abused. Though she came forward in an interview with Robin Roberts, did people still shun her as they seem to do because hearing about such things is repugnant to them?

I could sense her anxiety watching the interview, the wringing of hands that shook though she tried to hide them, the maddening back and forth of the smile we are forced to portray then the real wrenching pain of unhealed parts ripped to shreds as a child… and no one comes.

Back and forth, the smile, the paralyzing agony depressing her being so much she took her own life. That could be me.

My body does not cope with the decades of hypervigilance- daily adrenalin rushes with cortisol bursts over a tiny insignificant sound, or someone coming up behind me, even my child or husband. That happens even now.

We lost one of our own, and the sorrow cannot be wiped away. Someone needs to talk about it. People need to listen. This is happening to our little girls. Boys too, but little girls far more, we just hear about boys more.

Do a TED talk? Do a youtube? People don’t want to listen, but they must. Isn’t it time to protect our children? Who protected Naomi? She seemed so happy through the years with that smile.

Performing. There is so much performing, as families insist on keeping it quiet, and the child performs. But a body can’t hold out forever and the agony must be released be it too much eating, shopping, drinking, drugging, marrying someone to beat you, or dying.

It is hard road, and I am saddened that this woman has died because her sadness caused it to be so.  


A tiny change of habit upsets my status quo. Staying up cutting apples for overnight steel cut oatmeal in the crock-pot was not the best choice. Even twenty minutes less of quiet time in the bedroom before turning off the lights interferes with the delicate balance of an overwrought system. Using the newly formed night guard that was overly chunky and didn’t fit well added to the sleep challenges.

Up till the Times Square ball dropped with a heavy heart full of depressing thoughts about that and everything else. Why must thoughts that are handled alright in the daytime turn into dooming disasters at night?

The ball drops, the crowd having to have proved vaccinations, and having to wear a mask through the check point… but many aren’t wearing them. Social distancing? None.

This gloomy reminder of stupid people didn’t help my outlook. We are asked to double up mask wearing and move towards N95 masks covered by cloth. Is that for the stupid selfish people wanting their rights to not get vaccinated or wear masks? Then killing others with their contaminated breath before dying themselves wishing they’d been vaccinated?

But my will to live is as ferocious as anyone’s despite my despair of all this combined with what kind of earth we are leaving our grandchildren and their children. That our poor depleted earth will no longer be habitable because no way do I believe the people in it will make the drastic changes needed right now to save it.