the waltz

The sun blazes farewell as it sets in the autumn sky taking the light of day along to another place whose time has come. Strong silhouettes rule this moment where one thing slowly becomes another.

Lily checks her reflection in the glass once more. The long calico dress is simple but it is the best she has. Her chestnut hair falls soft about her shoulders pulled back with the only satin ribbon she owns…blue

Butterflies carry her down the stairs in a fluttering what if…

It is a time before neon lights hide the beauty of the night. Vast countryside is softly bathed in shadow. A half moon curls up as sentinel in an ebony sky.

Music and laughter call out in welcome through the open barn door. The scent of hay mingles with tempting aromas that float above the kettles simmering with hearty fare.

Gingham cloth drapes over and down wooden farmhouse tables laden with the bounty of orchard and fire. Hot cornbread is so golden it just might be worth something.

Pastry has been rolled and filled with the stuff that dreams are made of. A dusting of sugar and time in the oven has them bubbling and sparkling until one can hardly wait.

A few men keep time with their feet as their bows fly fast over the fiddle strings! Sometimes…they slow and soften.

One by one, couples take to the center of the barn. They are timid at first, until the joy of the song fills their hearts. In this place, skirts catch the air and not a single toe will be stepped on…wink

Then, from beyond the hustle and bustle…

the gentleman offers his arm and a warm smile. She accepts both with the raspberry blush of cheek that she knew would come.

No one notices as they make their way past fiddlers and ladies keeping watch over food and even the couples twirling round the dance floor.

…through the open door… into the fresh night air…past the storytellers spinning tales by the fire’s warm glow…

…to the lovely place where moonbeams shine and music can still be heard…

One, two three…step, two three…sweet notes drift in the air above their makeshift dance floor…eyes lost in one another…they waltz…beneath a million stars…

Long after the fiddles stop playing…long after the pies are eaten…long after the world has disappeared…hand in hand…they dance…

***********

Inspired by Ashokan Farewell by Jay Ungar and Molly Mason

written and photographed by Ellie894 February 9, 2018

Fifteen Real Pumpkins

Wish and hope and dream. Some days they are very much the same prayer, inseparable from one another and yet a whole world of possibilities within them. Some days they fill me until there is too much and they spill over with goodness. Some days they are buried in dark murky places and I cannot find them no matter how hard I try. Still…my dreams are always there…waiting for me.

Beneath a cold clear sky I send my wishes to the stars before the day begins. Star light, star bright…

Why do we wish upon a star, so far away…so up high…so out of reach. Why don’t we wish on something closer to home…like pumpkin seeds.

Cut open a pumpkin and reach inside. Feel all those seeds in the slime, held tight to the pumpkin and to each other by strong sinewy strings. It’s a mess in there! Dozens of ecru teardrops wait in the darkness like stars in the sky. Only they are touchable…and they become wondrous real things.

Pumpkin seeds do not have an outward brilliance that catches my eye. As I hold one between my fingers it feels slippery and sticky and yet, full of promise. Every pumpkin seed is a treasure chest locked tight with unseen gold.

How strange that our wishes reach to the heavens, to places we cannot go and cannot touch. Why don’t our wishes dig deeply instead. Why don’t our wishes begin in the earth and reach towards the sprawling beauty of becoming real.

I cannot touch a star or hold it in my hand the way I can a pumpkin seed. The seed is immediate and urgent as I grip it between my fingers and with my open heart it has already become an entire field of fruit, sprawling vines, delicate sunny flowers, and pumpkins one after another as far as my eye can imagine.

No man made plastic pumpkin will ever give way to such luscious possibilities.

In late September I drove to a local market for pumpkins. Fifteen pumpkins! They were a variety of crazy large shapes. No smalls. No mediums. All Larges! A couple of them were so big I could hardly manage them on my own. Would they topple on the way to the car! I had visions of them rolling all over the parking lot and me being rather helpless to stop them.

Then came the dilemma of arranging them in the car. More than one person looked at me with a smile that suggested… better you than me.

Pumpkins are deceptively dusty. Although their bold orange hides it, they carry a layer of soil leftover from their field days. And, they do enjoy sharing it with you. Nevertheless, the pumpkins were glorious and I was happy with my choices and their overflowing nature, rather like having a car full of balloons. It’s just a naturally happy moment.

So it was that fifteen real pumpkins came to reside with me.

Two collapsed before the end of October. One was given over to be carved for Halloween. A couple deflated after the first freeze. A few more were looking grim at the end of November. I lost another and another as December turned to Christmas turned to New Years.

As I head out to walk there are still some spicy orange orbs amongst the fallen brown leaves of winter. Signs of decay are easy enough to spot when you look closely. One by one they will each fall away.

Of course they don’t really go. Instead they transform as surely as the butterfly…from pumpkin to seed to green leafy shoot to yellow flower and finally, back to pumpkin again. They never stop giving.

In years past I have decorated with plastic pumpkins, the cute ones with handles and clever faces. In fact, I still have some of them tucked away in the attic. They last longer, people say. One can use them year after year, people say. You get your money’s worth, people say. Yes, I guess that’s all true enough…

Plastic pumpkins need to be stored and cleaned. Climb into the sweltering attic to bring them down. Put a heavy rock in them so they won’t blow away or be carried off and chewed to bits by a canine companion. Imagine the mess made by lovable canine companion. Weeks later clean them of all the muck they collected in the great outdoors. Trudge back into the attic to put them away. Next year, repeat. Ugh.

With time and weather plastic becomes brittle and its colors fade. It loses its vibrancy. You pull it down from the attic one year and think – hmm, it doesn’t look much like a pumpkin anymore. It toughens to the breaking point. Then sharp edges jut forth, jagged and hurtful to all that dare to come close. In age and time plastic pumpkins harden to the world around them.

Real pumpkins grown by a real farmer in a real field brighten my life and bring me real joy! In age and time they soften to the world around them. Even as they decompose, they freshen. Real pumpkins give way to more life, not less. In the days and months to come they will spring forth again and again in enchanting new ways.

My colorful pumpkins and what’s real and what’s not sends my thoughts back to the childhood tale of The Velveteen Rabbit. To become real one must love and be loved and that is a profoundly messy but beautiful thing.

As time flies before you, are you real or are you plastic…

I love to wish upon the stars in the charcoal sky. I won’t stop anytime soon. I love sending my dreams soaring into the heavens to light up the night.

But the pumpkin with its seeds has something to teach me about wishing too. Even as I write this I wonder if it’s silly to wish on pumpkin seeds. People will laugh at me. Stars are so glamorous. Pumpkin seeds are so…not glamorous.

But I do wish…

I wish for bright pumpkin filled days of joy! I wish to soften with time. I wish for a quiet embrace to protect the promise within. I wish to blossom in love. I wish to be real…

May your wishes flower into a beautiful field of dreams.

Fifteen Real Pumpkins written and photographed by ellie894 February 2, 2018

Hey!

Hey!

Yes, Bo?

It’s cold out here…

Yes Bo, it’s very cold out here.

Hey!

Yes, Bo?

Are you listening…

Yes, Bo, I’m listening.

Let’s go home…

But why, Bo?

I’ve had enough of this snow thing…

Don’t you like the snow Bo?

Yeah, it’s ok but my snuggle spot’s waitin’ for me…

Ah, of course it is Bo.

It’s callin’ my name…

Your name? You don’t say Bo?

Hey!

Yes, Bo?

I’m ready to go home…

When would you like to go, Bo?

What do you mean, when?

I was just wondering Bo.

Now!

Oh…Ok Bo.

Now would be good…

Ok Bo.

Ten minutes ago woulda been better…

Ok Bo.

You know there’s bacon treats at home…

Yes there are Bo.

I’ll share with you…

I’m good Bo, you can have all the bacon treats.

You do love me, don’t you…

Yes, I do Bo…more than you will ever know.

I love you too…

Thank you Bo.

Hey, can we go home…

Yes, Bo…

Let’s go home…

Originally published on – all my heart sees

a little boy and a little girl…

Once upon a time…

There was a little boy…Who loved a little girl

***

He carried her books…

And sang her songs…

All the melodies his heart did carry

***

Wrinkles formed on his tiny brow…

What if she didn’t…

He worried, somehow

***

Once upon a time…

There was a little girl…Who loved a little boy

***

She penned him notes…

Folded tightly in squares…

All the words her heart did carry

***

She blushed as he opened…

Her thoughts so true…

She worried, whatever might he do

***

Once upon a time…

There was a little boy…And there was a little girl

***

Who had no wrinkles…

Who had no worries…

Their only gifts were hearts so true

***

Everyday…

They walked together…

Hand in hand…

In love forever…

********

written and photographed by Ellie894, 2018

live your story…

The clock ticks away, marking time. Sunday becomes Monday. 2017 falls into history making room for 2018. This minute has sixty seconds, the same as the last minute did but it is new. This year will have the same twelve months as last year did but it is ripe with new beginnings.

It is 2:18. The clock in my kitchen has not moved for weeks now. It’s not the battery. I checked that. I should take it down and let it go. I should make room for a new clock. I haven’t yet. I always wanted a great big round clock to keep the time. My dad took this one off of his workshop wall and handed it to me a few years ago. It has kept me company with its rhythmic ticking ever since, until recently.

I wonder about lots of things. Like, time passing and the way birds puff up in the cold and why am I here? Certainly the answer to the last question is not – to be perfect. Or at least I hope that’s not the answer. If it is, I’m failing miserably.

Do you suppose that if you knew why, then you would get busy taking care of that. Getting down to the business of doing what you’re here to do. Or…do you think you would drag your feet at the seeming impossibility of the task. All by yourself you should see to it that an entire continent has clean water. So, yeah. Good luck with that!

You think you want to know why. But, if you were truly given that answer…crystal clear on a silver platter, what would you actually do with it. Maybe…you already have the why and you just don’t recognize it.

Here I am again in the kitchen, so early in the morning. It’s cold and still dark out but I cannot see the stars. A thick gray sky conceals them from me. The answers to my wonderings are just as hidden as the stars.

Warmth emanates from my small pottery cup decorated with a windmill. It is hot with coffee. Soon it will fill me one bittersweet sip at a time. Even with cream and sugar there is a hint of the strength of the brew underneath. It took many years for me to enjoy coffee. Now that I do, I like it strong and with chicory. I like it to bite a little. Water should taste like water and coffee should taste like coffee.

Bo is stretched out and dreaming at my feet. I move his favorite pillow so that he can be close to me. Otherwise, he stares at me while resting his head in my lap and extending a paw in concern – you should really get my pillow…or pet me…or feed me…or you should put that pen down and pay attention to me…seriously, it’s all about me. But, if I settle his pillow, he will rest. Contentedly he will curl up and fall asleep. Every once in a while he lets out a groan of sorts and I wonder…what he’s thinking.

Growing up, I attended a sacred heart girls school. Yes, there were nuns…but no punishing rulers. Yes, there were uniforms…I still can’t bring myself to wear plaid. But, for me it was a haven. Whatever might be going on beyond those gates, for a few hours every day, there was gentle peace. I knew it was ok to be just who I was and to explore the woman I might one day become.

There was a two story white house on the grounds called…wait for it…the White House! You didn’t see that coming, did you. It looked out over a grove of pines and beyond that was a busy Houston street.

So many years of French class! I can still recite the nursery rhyme – jack be nimble – in French. You never know when that will come in handy…just saying. Quite the party trick, a lot of demand for it. Shall I do it now? No? Ok, then. I’ll save it for later…

Mrs. Doyle started me keeping a journal. My script was So small she could barely make it out and would kindly ask me to write a little larger please. Nevertheless, she encouraged me to write…thank you Mrs. Doyle…

Mrs. Finch was known to the senior girls as Babs. I never left her class without a smile. Her command of history was incredible! One morning I looked down only to see she had worn two different shoes to school. One black and one navy. An honest mistake, especially when you learn that the electricity had been out at her house. A dark closet, it could happen to anyone. It wasn’t so much the different colors that gave us a chuckle though. It was the different heel heights… Babs spent that day good natured as always but with a colorful limping down the hallways, one shoe a solid two inches taller than its partner.

Beyond reading, writing and arithmetic there was an underlying and gentle nod to what others in the world might be going through. Bring a can of soup tomorrow. What we collect will find its way to those who need it. Your own lunch will be… a bowl of soup. You will assuredly make it to the end of the day without starvation. And, if you do feel momentary hunger…there are those who fall asleep that way…nightly.

I waited too long to take that last sip of coffee. It cooled off in my hand. I have no microwave so there won’t be any reheating. Sometimes I go ahead and finish what I’ve started. Sometimes I don’t. I pour it out and let it go. Both are fine. It’s only a few sips of coffee after all. They will not save the world. But, the young girl in me is always there. Waste not. There are so many who have so little.

I think of all those who haven’t coffee or a home or any of the multitude of things that I am blessed with. Things. Just things. I wonder…if they need more or if I need less. I suspect the answer to both is yes.

At the heart of it, I admit I would love to have fewer belongings. I would also like others to have less. Less true need that goes unfilled…

If only I could translate my odds and ends into food and clean water and safety for those who struggle on without them. Then perhaps there would be peace of heart for two people…instead of one who owns items which collect dust…and another who has a hungry child…

So, I come back to asking, what is my why. But now, I add a new word. Today. Not the why of forever. Not the why of the whole world. Only the why of this one day in front of me. May I know it when I see it and be ready for whatever it may be. Grant me gentle silence to hear the song, and live the story that plays before me.

Time doesn’t stand still for questions or answers. They are worth wondering over though. There are places and people who do make a difference, even when they don’t know that they do. A single bowl of soup may not feed the world. But, it may open someone’s heart to a lifetime of wondering.

Every year offers a new adventure. Every day holds a new surprise. Every moment carries the seed of a new thought. Time always dances forth in hope to embrace the new.

I don’t know what Bo is dreaming of when he groans. I can only guess. I don’t have the answer to why we’re all here. I can only guess at that too. My guess though, is that it’s the same for all of us…

…love…

Clouds have cleared! The sun has come out after a long week of gray skies. How lovely it is to see the future shining brightly before me with hope…

Happy New Years my Dear WordPress Friends!

Thank you for sharing this journey. You are a true delight to me. May each of you have less in the year ahead…so that all the empty places left open may be filled with great love…

suzanne❤️

I believe…

Dear Santa,

I love a letter that begins with Dear. Don’t you? Right there at the start you know this will be different. I cherish you – it says. You are in my thoughts…not just at Christmas… but, always.

We are waiting for a cold front here. It should arrive in a few hours. One prediction even calls for snowflakes on Christmas. Oh! how lovely it would be to have an honest to goodness White Christmas!

Rather normal for you, I imagine. For me though, it would be a magical first.

I’m writing this letter to you in the sweet place where I do most of my writing…my kitchen island…home within home.

Some days it is more of a writing desk than a kitchen. Funny how it can be as much a place to be still as to be busy. I love it so. I wonder Santa, do you have such a place. One where you go to be quiet and just think…

A tree is tucked into the corner of the room. It sits cradled between a window with a lovely view of the bird feeder and a bookshelf full of favorites. Its top grazes the ceiling! A tree that’s taller than me please – I always ask. Giggles. It sticks out in places and is far from perfect yet oh so very right… lighting up the whole room with its joyful presence. I’m happy for its sharing and being…just being here with me. It draws me in as much as the candle flame that flickers nearby. One hypnotizes me with dozens of twinkling lights and the other with its dancing flame. Has a sky full of stars come to rest in the confines of my cozy home…

I am lifted and carried beyond roofs and treetops and even outside of myself…upwards to another place altogether…a place where I ride the night sky with you…wind in my hair…cheeks rosy from cold…delivering gifts across the wide wide world.

Your life’s work…giving love to others…

Toys! Each teddy and train, has his own story. They journey to a new home…to warm the heart of a child…to take their place and bring great joy and comfort…thank God for toys…thank God for you…

My tree is like that…like your sack full of toys. Every ornament bears a memory, is the keeper of a moment in time. Branches are full with them, imperfect, ragged, faded. The white felt rocking horse with a few hand sewn sequins still attached…the white rabbit on his sleigh made of candy cane ribbon…the shiny cluster of grapes…the treasured Mexican tin ornaments, hand hammered and colored then carefully wrapped and brought from far away…

they hold the stories of what has been, bring beauty to the now…and leave room for those adventures yet to be told…yet, to be lived. There is always room for one more. What new tales will be added this year…

Cookie Day! A flurry of flour and sugar and sprinkles! My little kitchen springs to life in the name of baking. Baking with love to share. A colorful apron tied just so for the occasion, because after all, we make an awful mess. Christmas carols of all shapes and sizes resound from the rafters with glee, keeping us company. These sweet details are just as important as the icing and sugar crystals that decorate our tiny bites of delight.

The warmth of the oven…the glorious sugary mess…the hum and the buzz…and at the end of the day a farm house table laden with all manner of treats. Then, I will gladly drop into the porch swing to catch my breath, rest my feet and… listen…for the sound of sleigh bells overhead…

No worries… I shall save the very best cookies for You!

I confess that sometimes I grow weary with all of the doing of Christmas. Not enough time to Be. Even when I do manage an outer stillness my mind is racing ahead of me with all that is waiting to be done.

For there is much Joy to share…with those I love…and with many more whom I will never know… Whenever I wonder how I can possibly manage it all, I think of you…

You fill my heart. You give me hope. You show me a country lane that flies through the stars rather than the trees. For you do not Do Christmas. You Live Christmas! In every ordinary common day you smile that warm smile of yours and open your heart to All the children of the world – young and old alike…make no mistake…we are all children…

There are so many lovely things in this life that are sometimes invisible to my eye, though they beat on in my heart. Because of you, I trust them. I believe in them…as I believe in you.

Yesterday morning as I crossed into the field a sweet mist lay as soft as a downy comforter resting gently upon the meadow and reaching into every nook and cranny. Over the grass and in the lowest of the trees…gossamer threads were strung with sparkles of dew. Quite magical…

In the nighttime the faeries had danced. And in so doing their sweet song come to life decorated the meadow with delicate lacy treasures. They are preparing for you too…in their own gentle way. I wonder, will you leave them a gift of faery dust as you fly overhead. Does their glittery offering reflect in the stars and light up the ground…even as my cookies which are arranged just so on the dearest plate…my own gift of love…waiting…waiting only to be received.

It is after all, the tiniest gesture in the most ordinary day that often hides warmly in a heart…a cookie shared… a warm smile… a lovely song…a magical bit of faery floss…a glimpse of a sleigh in a dark night sky…

I have no list to send you this year. I ask for nothing at all for myself. Instead, thank you. thank you for every precious gift ever given to me…

rays of hope as warm as any sun drenched afternoon… echoes of laughter…four paws and a tail dancing with joy at the mere sight of me… brilliant dreams delivered in the silvery moonlight…messages that begin, dear…so many invisible gifts tied with blue satin ribbons that wave in the gentle breeze…each one…

Making love visible in the heart of the world…

May your heart be always filled with lovely invisible gifts… suzanne❤️

Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!.

P. S. – Ellie, Jack, Huckleberry, Bo, Sonya and Dobby would be very grateful for a stocking full of bacon treats… >

Happy Feast of St. Nicholas!

Happy Feast of St. Nicholas!

Only Moments to spare,

The spiced scent of cinnamon

Drifts through the air.

The warmth of the oven

Brings the kitchen to life,

Promising goodies

Sure to delight.

Kettle gives a whistle

Saying tea’s ready too.

A bounty of treats

St Nick tucks in your shoe.

Ever so merry

Cheeks red as a cherry.

Kindness and tenderness

Never shall hide.

Hearts ribboned with love,

Sweet gifts from inside.

my wishes for you

October 29, 2017

Dear Mike,
This is a smidgen late…but you’re so awfully cute that M and I got bogged down choosing the pictures.  I wrote you a poem. It will give you a chuckle. It’s at the bottom.  Don’t jump ahead.  First things first.  You will probably roll your eyes and throw up your hands in exasperation. But you will like it. You always do. You’re so good that way. 

I’m never quite sure whether to keep it light or tell you all that’s in my heart…as though you don’t already know. You’re good that way too. How very blessed I am. 

Today is your very own happy new year. Yours and yours alone. Should I tell you how much I love you. Or should I tell you all the things I wish for you. I suppose they’re really rather one in the same, aren’t they.

Birthdays like New Years are a threshold. A moment in time that you can’t quite see but where two worlds meet. What has been and what will come to be. The first you know all too well. The second is the universe waiting for you to come join the celestial dance.

Confetti and cake, boxes and bows, mark the celebration! The celebration of you! The day when everything changed because there was you. Don’t grumbleat me. You Have changed the world for good for so many whether you realize it or not.  

Before the cheers, before the world joins in your joy, pause…and think what this doorway is for you. Let go of all that it’s time to leave in the past. Let it begin to fade and whatever scars it has left, let them begin to heal. But don’t let everything go. Keep the beauty. Keep all the treasures that make you smile and fill you with hope. Just look at how many there are! Tie them with satin bows in your heart. Forever a part of you. Only you know what they are.

Breathe deep and face the future, your very own. Ready and waiting. It’s time to start something new and grand! You have a deep compassion. Take it with you and keep it close. It has always served you well. There are so many unseen and hurting faces in your world. Many of them you will never know. But you make a difference for them nonetheless. I marvel at that!  

You’re rather a star to me…but I’m pretty sure you already knew. Giggles. No matter what comes to you in life you face it head on and with a strength of character that I so admire. You touch so many… 

How honored I am to be some small part of your world. Did you know… when you turn and see me, just me, and gather me up in your arms… you hug like a great big bear. I feel safe and so loved. Thank you for that. 

No matter how time has flown for us and where each of us is… I always carry you in my heart. And I know without a doubt that I am in yours too. We’ve known each other since before forever. There’s something I cannot quite describe about what makes us a “we” when in truth we’ve had so little time together. Perhaps that makes it all the stronger. 

I’m sorry, but I do not pray for you to have worldly things. I pray for you all the joy and beauty of life. That goodness may find you and keep you smiling even when I am far away. That you may have courage in times of adversity. That your heart may always win and save a gentle place for all of the small unnoticed things in life. I pray that you may be gifted with a loving spirit, a smiling countenance, an overflowing joy, and a peaceful soul that will keep you at all times and in all places. 

Happy birthday Mike. I love you so very much. You are my one and only…big brother. 

all my love always, suzanne ❤️. < i> P. S. – you’ll always be 18 to me. < i><

nd now for something…a little different…

You are my one and only.  You always have been.  And always will be. You’re handsome and smart. I knew right from the start. That you were gonna go far.

I always knew. Cause I’m just as smart as you. Just saying …

Oh the wheels! That you’ve squealed! First strollers then bikes. And the cars. Oh the cars! Cars cars cars cars!

And me all along. With a laugh and a song. Your trusty sidekick.  I sheepishly confess you made me quite sick.

Parking lot donuts. Donuts galore. Make it stop. I would plead.  Before grinning and asking for more.

Again suz?!  Heck yeah!  A laugh from you. A grin from me. And off we went again you see.

See there. Now your two biggest fans. Have both written an ode.  To the one perfect boy…Oh what a joy!

Shall I trot mine out at parties. And, make you blush red. From the tips of your toes. To the top of your head?

She’s earned the right to call you perfect. She is your most loving and devoted fan. And don’t you forget it! Everyone should be so blessed as to have one.

A few years between us. And then a few days. You always come first. In all the right ways.

Pull out the calendar. You do the math. I’m really quite sure. We have one romantic dad…

No matter our ages. Days like the pages. This long story of we. Unfolds…

How much did we miss…

Sometimes together. Mostly apart. But always. Yes always. You’re close in my heart.

Then you go. And, let it show. Just how much you care. Devoting your life. To those in strife. Helping each one at a time. Holding their hand. Taking a stand. For the things that you know. Are so right…

How much tea did you drink?  Did you think that you’d sink?!  In the name of my girly tea parties.

By the time I was eight. You stood by the gate. Could hardly wait. For that next date. You were so grown. And I was so small. Fast cars and freedom.  They came to call.

My, you looked fine. When you made it on time. Those teen girls, how they did twitter.  At the sight of you mister. No eyes for your sister that day. With a Wink and a smile…

Still…I felt oh so special. Top down plus you. Adding me makes it two.  Away we did flee…

Wait, there are three.  Yes, the car counts as one. You taught me that.  First rule of boys, sis.  Shhhh. Keep it under your hat.

Oh and thanks for this too. Rule number two! Faster than fast is just the right speed?!

How many times officers looked down at me.  But my brother says…

Rule number two?  I don’t think so miss. But the ones who had sisters. Would chuckle and wave.  At your little joke. Cause they all had their own.

Oh and by the way. Your Men at Work cassette tape.  I still have that… Yeah…sorrrrry

For my birthday one year. You gave me Miss Piggy! Her bright purple dress. Made me quite giddy!

But the only thing I ever wanted from you…Was just you…

I wish I had more pictures of us. You know. All that silly brother sister stuff.

Wind in our hair.  Fast as the breeze.  Taking life as it comes.  Just as you please.

That thing you can do with your knuckles and toes. To this day makes me goes. Ugh…Just ugh…

You hug like a bear. It’s really not fair.  None can compare.  When you squeeze out the air.  But I don’t care.  Cause you’re you…

My one and only big brother. That’s who.

Wide eyed and wondering. I looked up to you. Always so brave.  Always so true.

Wherever life takes us. Wherever we go. You’ll always be close in my heart. Don’t you know.

Now… here we are… Life’s journey so far…

And look!

You’re  still my shining star!

<<<<<<
;

The Prairie, The Garden…Inside Glow…

A journey must begin somewhere…

a Field, this Field, is as good a place as any,

Tirelessly you travel across the wide and lonesome Prairie…

Into the cool and mysterious shadows of the Black Mountain…

What treasures hide there…

And Beyond it…

The Garden calls from the East…

Soft quiet footsteps will bring you to the grassy lake of the Blueberry Swan…

The gentle queen of the Flower Garden…

Taking care of all who dwell within her realm…

Closer now, amongst her heart shaped green feathers…

Oh! The sweet Starfish Flower…

So bright and hopeful with its Inside Glow…

One and another and another still, so very many beauties…

Now, you must use your deepest imagination…

For, In the heart of every Starfish Flower dances…

A Pixie, tried and true…

All are safe here…

But, they leave you wondering…

How Do You Glow From The Inside?

Note: The title, story, and inspiration are courtesy of Ms. Smith’s 4th grade writers at Turner Elementary.  Thank you for sharing your own way of seeing!

As always thank you to my sweet readers,

Ellie❤️

if only

Early morning and dark, a hushed reverence fills the air.  The pitter patter of paws follows me down the hall and to the kitchen.  Start the coffee.  Put on my long soft sweater and head outside.  

Stars shining bright and a few frogs still sing.  It’s too early yet for the birds.  Their time will come.  Jack has joined me on the back porch.  He likes the early morning as much as I do.  Or maybe he just likes to be close to me whenever and wherever that may be.  Jack doesn’t show up well in the dark but I know he’s there.  He nudges my hand and leans his whole self against me in his own special way.  

I’m grateful he’s near.  I am as sure of him as I am of the coffee waiting for me.  The strong aroma drifts through the crack in the door I’ve left open.  Soon the scent nudges me as certainly as Jack does.  Ready, it calls to me… I answer with a few footsteps easily made.  I’m grateful for those too.

Pull the cup from the shelf.  A dash of cream to soften the color.  A tad bit of sugar to sweeten the taste.  I caress the warmth coming from the porcelain with both of my hands.  

Back to the porch we all go – me and my coffee and my juice box named jack.  Oh, how that first sip delights!  While I gaze at the stars, I’m still fresh from the dreams that aren’t really ours.  Where do they come from? Where do they go?  Strong places and colors…my own picture show.  I watch it and feel it and live it as well!  Or, so it seems…

My foot falls asleep under Jack’s sturdy frame.  Another sip of fine coffee, my writing can wait.  He’s sleeping so sweetly.  I can’t bear to move.  And, my dream rings inside me like notes with a tune…

Such a storm! So much raging! Darkest gray and sheets of  silverish rain, blowing sideways flooding the stage.  The wooden pier that stands guard over the lake disappears under the onslaught. The man made path of sawn timbers giving way to a force greater than themselves.  But, the grass is just dandy! If anything, it only comes greener as the angry sky falls.

I watch from inside transfixed on the spot.  I am safe and quite sound.  Without shoes on my feet, my toes feel the ground.  Others around me but nary a sound. There’s a roof overhead.  I sense it above me.  I know that it’s there, keeping me in.   It protects from the rain,  far away from my skin.

It’s an odd thing…no windows to let the outside in…no walls to keep the outside out…no doors to be closed… Only ways to move through.  Easily about. There is a knowing.  The spaces, they mingle.  Ever so gently, they are not separate but rather one single.

Candlelight flickers bathing all that it touches with a graceful warm glow.  How it gathers and holds altogether, I don’t know.  It plays and it dances so joyfully on the creamy walls and dark wooden furniture.  Tables and chairs and doorways were all crafted from a reddish wood warmed over time by much use and great care.  Items carefully chosen that fill a home…

For,  home it is…warm and safe…a soft place in which to feel the storm gather round.  The sky above rumbles in response to the chaos it cannot control.  

But here, here is a safe place for one who seeks calm…just a heartbeat away.  At once looking outward and wondering inward.  

A tender gaze moves with me from room to room.  A strength of presence, I feel more than See.  It needs nothing it seems.  Asks nothing of me.  Waiting and peaceful in cozy small spaces.  Content…just to be close, close in my dreams.  Soul to soul, together and whole.

Why… why is there invisible grace…keeping roof on…keeping rain out…safe harbor for warmth…what I See and Think and Feel, so very different but each so very real.  

How comforted I feel! How warm and alive!  Protected and cared for…a light from inside…

In the wide awake world there are too many…too many doors and windows and walls…keeping me safe…yet holding life out…
It’s lovely to be in a place that doesn’t need them…if only for a moment…if only in a dream…