Lydia!

I overheard a woman calling out to a little girl, over and over again…. Lydia! Lydia!

Lydia is a pretty name, one that I don’t hear very often. But, there was a certain tone to it this time, a sharpness with a note of command backing it up. I couldn’t help but hear from where I was standing. The sound of it interrupted my thoughts. My thoughts were simple ones of tea towels and autumn inspired linens… and leaves turning and drifting in a beautiful whirlwind of gemstone colors….

Lydia’s mother and grandmother were getting louder and more emphatic all the time, trying to corral her… while Lydia herself, seemed lost in thought like me and cheerfully free spirited.

To be honest, I giggled to myself as a song sprang to mind –

“Lydia, Oh Lydia

Say, have you met Lydia

Lydia, the tattooed lady….”

It goes on from there… This child was certainly no Lydia of that variety! Another young girl named Virginia Weidler sang the rollicking song in the black and white film, The Philadelphia Story, starring Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant. She was absolutely marvelous, playing the piano with vigor and belting out every word with flair! So there I found myself, giggling in a swirl of lost thoughts of my own.

I caught sight of dancing feet to the left of me and so, I looked up. There was Lydia! Her hair was a bit messy, long enough to brush the tops of her shoulders and with a few squirrelly knots thrown in for good measure. Her pint sized glasses were slightly askew. And, she wore a pale pink dress, the kind that little girls love to twirl about in and feel them spiral outwards and let the wind catch beneath them. If one spins fast enough one might just be able to gather enough air to set one flying….

Who knows what adventure one might have then!? I write from experience…

She was clearly smitten with the Christmas decorations, all the colorful displays full of the promise of a crisp winter morning and a stocking full of sweets.

The moment was chocked full of irony though.

Lydia, her name and herself, sailing away upon the air, so genuine and carefree.

While the calling out on the other hand was an earth bound and controlling thing, limited and tethered…like trying to put a leash on a butterfly.

It always strikes me when I see a child so young in glasses. However did they know she needed them. I began wearing glasses in school when it became clear I couldn’t see the blackboard very well. I wore contacts for a while but gave them up and went back to glasses for ease and comfort. The continuous losing of them is another story altogether.

I wonder how long she had had her glasses. Were they brand new. Did the whole world look different, crisper, clearer and brighter than she had ever seen it before!

I shall never forget the day I got my first pair of glasses. I sat still and upright in the straight backed chair with its industrial gray cushion. My feet dangled as I was too small for them to touch the floor. The lady on the other side of the table slipped the glasses with the tiny pink panther emblem onto my face. She ensured that they fit properly in all the right places and ways.

Then the lady sat back and smiled as though she was setting me free. They were all mine now. And, I turned my head to the right towards the plate glass window… and I could see… every last leaf on the wise old trees across the way. Not a mass of green all blurred together. But, every tree and every branch stood out with singular clarity. I could see! It seems fitting now that it was trees that I saw in that moment. Trees have been constants in my life, and I can remember each of them in turn and the vast importance of them to my heart and to my seeing.

I never heard a word at all out of Lydia, herself. She was as silent as a tiny mouse on Christmas eve.

I only heard her mother and her grandmother calling to her. They were far enough away and around a corner so that she was displaced from their view. That is a scary thing for a parent, to be sure. No doubt, they simply wanted her to be safe.

I don’t know what their names were. I don’t know whether they one day twirled in a pale pink dress silently but in high spirits. I don’t know if they were caught up by some small novelty. I don’t know if someone called out to them too, trying to keep them safe… but still, breaking the magic spell of being a child full of wonder… seeing life for the very first time…

Why, I ask myself, would anyone put a leash on a butterfly….

Oh, to be free to dance in the bluest autumn sky…

****

ellie894 October 2, 2022 A very happy October to everyone! Suzanne ❤️

the song…

As the sun gives way to the horizon

At the first hint of night

Softly I sing your name

And all at once,

Beyond my imagining

The whole sky lights up

…from everywhere, deep within

It knows the song in my heart..

…. the one that plays for you

****

ellie894 March 23, 2020

Thank you, Sadje for the inspiring weekly photo prompt! You always choose a stunning image!

Please be safe everyone, and get Plenty of Sleep!

Suzanne ❤️

a song so very whole…

 

Early I walked,

*

As the rain came bold

From a heavy sky

The drums, they thundered

Inviting me to dance along

Yes, I said

Without ever asking why…

*

Soft and steady

Stronger now

On and on they fell

My footsteps, and the rain…

Droplets gathered

On the tip ends of the trees

And not a word was written

Not one, not by me

*

But, they are waiting,

Closer than you think,

Can you hear them rolling in the thunder

Do you know them warming in your soul…

*

Slow yourself,

In a delicious kind of way

And, let the rain sing to you…

*

Let it take you in

Become a part of it

No longer a page,

Of broken notes

Instead,

….a song…so very whole…

It is enough to dampen your skin

But not your spirit,

Everything it touches

Echoes with a different tone

A harmony of melodies

Heretofore unknown

Discover yourself

…wandering,

no longer in the woods

but, through the very music itself

raindrops gently on the leaves

and the bark

and the pine straw floor…

here a piano

there a violin,

drums to the heavens

cellos to the depths

and yes…even upon

your soft wet skin…

the stage is simple…

the composer unseen…

and you the only audience

to this song of a lifetime

played within a dream…

Early I walked in the rain…

*

And so it is,

That I wrote

Nothing at all…

****

ellie894 March 8, 2020

321 Quote Me – Gratitude

 

Thank you to Rory for tagging me in 321 Quote Me! His chosen theme of this one is Gratitude. He has a marvelous welcoming site that encourages both thought and community. Please do visit him and enjoy a look around.

**

321 Quote Me Created by A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip

 

Gratitude

Piglet noticed that even though he had a very small heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.

A.A. Milne

***

Gratitude turns what we have into enough.

Aesop

***

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

G.K. Chesterton

How does one sum up gratitude in two quotes? Well, as you can clearly see, I didn’t. I searched and searched for just the right words to say what I felt to be true. I searched and searched for just the right photo. Time and again I found myself back where I began. Quotes about gratitude often end in love. Images that inspire gratitude are of things I love. It would do me no good to try and separate the two. They are as intricately woven together as is the most delicate lace.

I love the way…is where my writing so often begins. It is my heart’s gratitude for the everyday things and the ways of them.

I love..

..the way the breeze picks up the edges of the sheets that are hung on the clothesline to dry

..the way hummingbirds hover in sweet greeting making me feel a part of their tiny world

..the way calves are insatiably curious and begin to follow me

..the way flowers bloom..enough said

..the way autumn colors light everything in a spectacular sunset that lasts beyond nightfall

..the way Dobby looks at me with soulful eyes and waggles his short tail

..the way a crockpot does all the cooking for me on a long day

..the way a song catches in your center and won’t let go and you’re glad for it to be there

..the way Jack reminds me of a muppet

..the way pizza can have any topping you like

..the way the first cool morning after a hot summer excites like love’s first kiss

..the way Bo adores the porch but thinks the yard is made of lava

..the way children giggle..at almost anything

..the way cookies go well with cold milk or hot tea or…come to think of it, cookies go well with everything

..the way clouds make movies in the sky

..the way Ellie snuggles just because

..the way friends encourage each other

..the way a grateful heart makes us mindful of the needs of others

Gratitude is not a thing. It is a way of being. Gratitude is the way you love everything around you…and then it is the way that everything around you loves you back…

Thank you kindly for reading and for being a beautiful part of my days,

Suzanne❤️

321 Quote Me encourages me to tag three people to continue on with sharing their own favorite quotes about gratitude. I invite anyone who is so inspired to participate and link back to Rory at A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

all at once I know…

I cannot yet say that there’s a welcome chill in the air

…but it is finally September…

Could you hear the sigh in me

As I wrote it out full…

September…

Last night a deer felt at home in the field

This morning,

A hawk graces the sky above me

My creek saunters on

As lyrically as always

To wherever it goes

But to my gaze it all seems the tiniest bit different

Far more exquisite than mere words

Can tell

It shimmers from the inside

As though by a faery’s whispered spell

I take a step

And another

…and another still

Gentle ones made carefully

So as not to disturb the tender things

That call the ground home

While I search the pine straw for a feather

…there isn’t one to be found

Perhaps there will be when I return

In time for the sun to wish me goodnight

Oh, eventime…

Will the colors be brilliant in their last hurrah

Or faded and comforting

Like my favorite soft jeans

We’ll see

But I don’t want to miss this moment

In anticipation of that one

And so back to now,

Woodpeckers knocking behind me

And turtles preparing to laze themselves long

Hour after hour

Upon the finest fallen log

I wonder at what they will see

While I am away this day

I breathe deeply in

The sweet air of a new dawn

After all it is September…

Some days there is a peace that comes

That nearly overwhelms me,

As silent as a single feather drifting

As mighty as the golden setting sun

All at once my heart knows

Beyond all knowing

That this…

…this is what love feels like…

****

ellie894 September 4, 2019

I could play with these thoughts a while longer and make them just so. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake somewhere that I’ll discover only after I share. So please forgive any missteps. I want only to give them away before this day gets away from me. They’re yours now and my hope is that you’ll find something lovely in them of your very own to keep. May you all find joy and kindness in the days ahead. ❤️

in the heart of every moment…

The music beckoned to me

To go

So I went

In search of what

I cannot be sure

But, when I came to rest

Deep within the soul

Of my own belonging

I looked down to my feet

Planted firmly upon the sturdy ground

And what to my enchantment

Did I find there….

…but an ancient,

primeval forest…

A wildness beyond my imagining

As near as my touch…

It contained its own bewildering completion

Before it would ever even begin

I am mesmerized

As I leave it behind me

Will it stay there

Where I first found it

Or will it travel farther than far

To become all that it was meant to be

The music beckons to me

To go on

So I go

Wondering as I do

At how many moments in a day

Hold the vast possibility of everything

Yet, we move too quickly

To know they are there

I see a primeval forest

At home in the depths of your gaze

I see an ancient universe

Dance in the sparkle of your smile

In the heart of every moment

Eternity is hoping

To become the love story

That it was always meant to be…

****

ellie894 July 30, 2019

Listening to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony

at the ruffled edges…

How often do I wonder

If I am too much

Or not even enough…

…strong the drums begin

listen well and let go my love…

let go and listen well…

Oh…for the feel of the music

…flowing into the depths of me

….comforting the silence of my soul

Can you hear the mockingbird

Dancing along the ivory keys

From black to white….

…and now again…

Gently a splash of turtles

Pleases and eases in the fulsome pauses

While at the ruffled edges

Frogs resound deep as cellos,

And full with moonlit meaning

Eagle spreads wide her wings

Gracefully taking to the heights of the open skies

Calling softly to her lover above the violins

As though she was meant to be there all along

… at last…

a sensual harmony of lost enchantment

…am I at the very heart of it

….or is it at the very heart of me…

…the rhythm echoes

within…with…in…

Until, I am no longer my own

….but, yours my love

a starry midnight note

in the forever of your painted song…

**

I come to rest near the water’s edge at evening. Van Gogh’s Starry Night in my mind’s eye. Beethoven harmonizes well with the soulful sounds of the woods behind me. Ebudae too. And, I am carried far away to lovely places within my heart.

****

ellie894 May 14, 2019

Again please!

Early last evening I drifted off to the sounds of a favorite song on repeat. I wonder how they do it, the composers I mean. However do they know which notes to place beside each other. They choose so carefully. How can they be certain that these two will be more beautiful if they are together. The best music is that way. I can’t listen enough. It is over too soon. I only want it to go on and on…

When I awakened at midnight the song had stopped. But, the rain had just begun. It came strong against the roof. I love it when it does and I haven’t anywhere to be. If only the roof was a tin one…. I snuggled under the covers and deeper into dreams. There were wings there, so many beautiful wings.

I chose some flower bulbs a few weeks ago. The lilies will be a rainbow of colors. The clematis will climb and cover the fence. I am most looking forward to the hollyhocks. I’ve never managed them before. If all goes well they will be tall spires of ruffled pastels. I hope…They are waiting on me. The days are warm enough. There is plenty of rain. I even know where they will be planted. It is time.

A new bunny friend has taken up residence in the nearby woods. She drives the dogs berserk going through the fence at her leisure. She comes and goes as if she owns the place. “It’s been awfully nice, see ya soon!” she calls over her fluffy cottontail. Meanwhile Jack and Dobby bark in helpless frustration that they cannot follow. Good for her!

Have I ever told you that early memory at my very first home? The one when I was very young. The story of the yellow sofa. Oh, I must tell you that one soon. It’s such a happy thing. It’s nice to tuck away the sweet ones and keep them. Like the time you said to me….

Yes, that one’s very dear. I treasure it…as I do you…

Yesterday was the Easter egg hunt! I wish you could have seen the children lined up in a row clutching tight their baskets. They waited so patiently to be let loose in the grass. Anticipation filled the emptiness! I was paired with a new little girl who was heart sad with missing her daddy. But, for a while she let go of her sorrow to search for beauty at her tiny feet. I noticed her pass over the purples and the blues in favor of the pinks and yellows. It touched my heart the way she carefully chose what was just right for her. It wasn’t about having the most or even about having more. A few lovely eggs were enough.

Do you know what I love…that there was plenty…of everything. No one was left out. All belonged. All were found. Happy baskets. Smiling children. And the sky was kind enough not to rain until we had had our fun. One sweet face looked up at me in pure joy and asked – can we do that again?! All over again! I don’t think he even realized there was something inside of the eggs. The search was joyful gift enough.

Now, I’m in a quiet place, one I come to over and again. It’s a searching kind of place where the being here is gift enough. I’m writing to you as I listen to a favorite song on repeat. And I wonder how the composer knew how all those beautiful notes would be even more lovely beside each other….

****

ellie894 April 18, 2019

funny how

it’s funny how a song sinks into you and there it is and you can only let it be there. do you pour yourself into it. or does it do the pouring. I don’t know. and maybe it doesn’t matter after all. perhaps in that moment it’s an invisible exchange of sorts that simply needs to be.

listening to a lovely song…

softened by rainy days



Gently this day wakes to the humming of the fan and a chill in the air. I’m happy for that. The last few weeks have been fast and furious. Let them be softened by time and rainy days. 

May something good come of it all…. 


There were plenty of good things along the way to be sure!  



A few extra feet joined in my walk. They were a grand and welcome treat! One fuzzy life hopped away! Criss cross applesauce hands in my lap with some sweet tiny friends! The sharing of a lightbulb moment! A simple meal at the end of a long week! Being a part of the very first author event of someone so very dear to me!  


Prayer and poetry and peaceful moments…unopened books waiting for me…


The first pumpkin bread of the season warmed my kitchen from the inside out. The sweet scent of it drifted from room to room, a cozy reminder that autumn is truly and finally here. I shared it fresh from the oven. When I delivered the first loaf it was still warm in its shiny foil wrapper. Five loaves gone in two short days. I will happily bake more. It is a joy of the season for me! First to bake it. Then to give it away. Except the slices I taste test for quality control… 



But there was a hole I never could quite climb out of. No ladder. No rope. No foothold. 


Over the weekend we received some very much needed rain…


I found myself walking in the rain at dusk, such a perfect reflection of my thoughts. There’s nothing quite so nice at times as wandering the woods in a light rain. Pull my ponytail through a baseball cap and head out the door and down the trail…



The dogs will not go out in the rain on purpose…unless I do. If I go, they go. My constant companions stay closer when it rains, pausing every few steps to be sure. Looking back at me. Are we really doing this? Yes…we are. Keep going. Ok then. If you say so. 



What I can see of the sky is grayish white. It feels more like fog than sky, the way the clouds encircle me from every which way holding me tight to the ground. Tight to myself. Rain washes over the landscape painting all of the colors a darker shade of whatever they already are. Leaves and bark and flowers too…Everything takes in the life giving water… and changes.  



The lake stretches out before me. Open and waiting. Tiny circles dot the surface here and there…teardrops falling gently from the sky. The pond silently accepts them with no questions asked. Each one makes a difference. I gaze a while, watching the tiny droplets one by one become part of something so much bigger than themselves. Giving themselves away. Disappearing in the whole. 


We are at our best when we give ourselves away…



Deeper amidst the trees now Mozart thunders in my ear. He is a perfect complement to birds and light footsteps on a wet woodland path. The rain comes rhythmically like musical notes. From cloud to branch it falls like fingers on a keyboard composing a brilliant song! Drops that catch nearby are strong like drumbeats. They pound at the thirsty earth. While others never make it through the treetops remaining so faded and far away. They echo softly in reply to their own question.  



Then there are the closest drops, the ones that soak your clothes and glisten on your skin, the ones that chill you or refresh you, the ones you keep for your very own and make all the difference…those drops you cannot hear at all. They do not have a sound. They silently disappear. Perhaps they become part of you just as the ones that offer themselves to fill the lake.   



There is a gift in even the most trying times if I see with heart instead of eyes alone. Sometimes those gifts, the ones that come in the silent tears of the wind and rain, are the most precious ones after all.


Today is a new beginning, a very innocent one, fresh and full of promise. What secret destination awaits…