Potential....of sprouts.

Yes, they are really quite small.....

Say, a quarter of an inch or so....

Brilliant green, leafy heads too heavy to hold up...

Such potential....

Mostly, herbs...

future accompaniments to salads, cheese, pasta,

all things good...

I love the potential of a seed,

so small that I can hardly place it...

Within days, really only 2 or 3,

there is the wispy, hair of new growth.

I can envision Pesto Pasta,

steaming in a bowl with grated Parmesan falling on top.

This is the favorite of the trio, I call "boys".

They are not really boys,

they are all old enough to vote, marry, buy cars,

and enlist, but I won't go there...

Pesto Pasta found it's way into the hearts

of my boys on a beach trip.

I was trying to stick to a very tight budget,

having jumped into the realm of "self-employed".

It was August and I knew the Basil plants

wouldn't make it long in the heat, and our absence.

So, I ripped them all out of the ground

and pulverised every remaining snippet

into the wonderful soup called pesto.

I froze it overnight and prayed

that it would season the two pounds of pasta.

It worked, and the boys loved it.

Now we do not go to the beach

without a large freezer baggie of the wonderful greenness

that is found in these leaves of potential.

Sprouts!

How simple is a Shell Cave.....

Well, I don't think I can adequately answer that question.

But I will try,

a shell cave is God's creation,

and therefore too simple for man to understand.

Shells have been on the earth longer than man,

and therefore are smarter, and even more attractive than humans.

Shells may even hold all of the answers to life's problems,

because, you see, they have none of their own,

all things that happen in a shell cave are for the common good,

no one is shellfish, (sorry) and no one expect more than is their due.

Shell caves are where people go to learn about God, life, serenity,

and love.

Shell caves.......good.

The garden party has begun...

Yes, The maples have their red buds..

The Bradford Pears are in full bloom, even some green leaves,

the hydrangea has little Green sprouts all over,

daffodils are bent and crumpled....

Periwinkle is "purpleing out"
POLLEN is Everywhere.

My hands get itchy this time of year.

It' as though they can't wait

to feel the dirt beneath their nails.

And my feet long for the warmth of the spring sidewalk.

Gardening tools need cleaning,

hoses need replacing,

compost needs spreading,

and I can't wait.

The garden center is my heaven.

Statuary, tools, bags of loam,

gadgets, hanging ferns, and

Plants I've never owned.

New life.....

New attitude....

New beginnings....

Heaven.

Best meal, ever...

This was the crowning glory...

This meal made my weekend.

I know it is modest by all measurements,

but it brought me back to reality.

Back to my life, not infringing on someone else's.

I spent a good part of last week thinking about the life of

another. I couldn't seem to shake the image, or the feelings.

It felt so fragile, lost even, to know a friend had passed on

without the benefit of someone to keep him company.

But,

this meal, made by the loving hands of my sweet husband,

snapped me out of it.

It was prepared on a sunny, warm afternoon.....

windows open, sweat on our foreheads,

pollen threatening to clog every orifice (sorry) and yet

here is was a simple meal that brought me back to the here and now.

Right here, right now.

Right where my feet are planted.

Ah....

that is so much better.

Blessed relief.

How do we grieve?

Grieving....

Are we actually participating in the grieving when we do not feel especially sad?

When we are sort of grateful for the passing of someone......

whose life was swallowed up in pain?

Are we disrespectful of the memory when we are glad for the relief?

Who is the expert on grieving, anyway?

Someone who has lost a great abundance?

Who wakes up feeling empty?

Are there parameters for the grieving process?

I know that there are the recognized stages....

I am very familiar with that process, but this feels so different.

I am not sad, but actually thrilled for him. As he is no longer in a desperate mode.

He will no longer spend his energy, time, money and brain power trying to prove his significance to the ones he loves......He will no longer loose sleep over "perceived slights". He will no longer ache for the loving arms of the women he loved. He will know that there is freedom.

Freedom from the wheelchair...

Freedom from his thoughts....

Freedom from fear, haunting and subtle...

Freedom from gravity.

We will miss you Roger, but only for a short time.

We will see you in a new light someday...

Freedom.

Death......

Well, we just don't know do we?

We don't know when it will come.

David and I went over to a friend's house today to check on him.

No one had heard from him in days, and we wanted to just make sure...

Well, there he was, laying on the kitchen floor, having fallen from his wheelchair.

We saw him from the back window to his living room.

Snow on the ground, dog barking at the door,

too many newspapers on the front stoop, a call to 911,

police, medic, neighbors....

I heard the medic say he had been there for several days.

They assured us that it appeared to be "natural causes",

didn't feel very natural.....

Now we are at our home,

numb....

Poor guy, alone on the floor for days....

makes me sad.

I'd rather be a failure at something I love than a success atsomething I hate.

George Burns(1896-1996, American Comedy Actor)

I am photgraphing SNOW, will post later....