March

New pink buds appear on the peach tree.

The fragrance from the lemon tree is sweet and pungent at the same time.

Wind lovingly messes the hair of the palm in front of deep blue.

Pale blue  against green in several hues.

Plants set outside adjust to the outdoor temperatures and respond cheerfully.

"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold:When it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade."

-Charles Dickens

This is March and soon Spring will replace winter. That always make me happy because try as I might, I really don't like winter. 

Soon, I will experience the East Coast version of Spring. But for now, I will bask in the warmth and enjoy the subtle changes of this most lovely slight rotation of the Earth's axis.

"Every day that is born into the world comes like a burst
of music and rings the whole day through, and you will make of it a dance, a dirge, or a life march, as you will"
-Thomas Carlyle

"The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red."
-  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Afternoon in February 

February is a melancholy month. A time when winter grips hard and doesn't want to let go. Snow and slush and cold and wind and illness and travel that is difficult and it all is the same every February. I want to hibernate like a bear and only come out when the winds die down and the sun shines warm and the small white flowers show sweet promise.

But life goes on and life requires motion-even in February! So I push through and get up and move and strip the bed and throw the blankets and sheets into the washer so I can't just crawl back in and waste away my day. Each day that I move-even a little- I am moving closer to Spring, to the orange poppies and purple iris-still waiting for me there in that small garden just behind my back door-now hidden under that soggy white blanket of half-melted snow.

Train Window

"It was morning; through the high window I saw the pure, bright blue of the sky as it hovered cheerfully over the long roofs of the neighboring houses. It too seemed full of joy, as if it had special plans, and had put on its finest clothes for the occasion. "
Herman Hesse

I took the train from LA to San Diego and saw some amazing things-people, mostly, going about their business, plodding through another day, or joyfully embracing it! 

People waiting, oblivious to the signs-Look! Restrooms! Six papers full of words! Color everywhere!

 

No swimming today! Though the waves look so inviting! Empty sand begging for barefoot toes!

 

 

 

Fade to black and white!

Appreciation

 

"I’m grateful for being here, for being able to think, for being able to see, for being able to taste, for appreciating love – for knowing that it exists in a world so rife with vulgarity, with brutality and violence, and yet love exists. I’m grateful to know that it exists."

-Maya Angelou

 

This is how I have felt for the past few weeks. In spite of the circumstances, and the helplessness I have felt at times, somehow, knowing the love from my wonderful family and incredible friends in a very real way.

Trials are about remembering what is important-getting perspective. Still, I would like to be able to bask a little, enjoy the end of one trial before another begins. In my life, they tend to be back to back -one of top of another-no real break

But the beauty is, I am noticing the whole of life as a gift-not just the series of troubles and questions with no answers, but as breathing and smiling and running when I can, and dancing-with or without the music playing. 

Peace Like a River

Peace like a river — how refreshing that stream — that calms us, like a wondering dream.
This week I got one of those phone calls that every parent dreads. My son had been stabbed in New York City on New Year's Eve. The details are fuzzy-because my son was walking home and felt someone behind him and then the next thing he knew, he was in the hospital with multiple stab wounds.

One of the hardest things about this East Coast/ West Coast life is that I always seem to be on the wrong coast at the wrong time. I had no resources to just jump on  a plane and run to his rescue. I had to wait and trust and pray-something much easier in theory than in reality. My family and friends living on the East Coast stood at the ready to gather my son up and take him somewhere safe for healing. Daily phone calls helped because I could tell at the moment he answered the phone by the tone of his voice how he was doing. I still want to get back there and help and make him dinner and check the stitches to make sure they are not infected. But here I am, doing helping of a different kind.

And through this entire week, with the exception of a few anxious moments in the middle of the night, I had peace. Peace like a river. I had no idea how things would turn out, so I had to rest. And pray for wisdom. And then, strangers who let me know that my son was in their prayers asked me how they could help. It is so heart-warming to have family and friends who know my son reach out. But it was the kindness of strangers that made me so grateful for the goodness still very apparent in this world.

This morning, when I spoke to my son, he said he is hoping to go back to work next week. I am hopeful that the healing continues-body, mind, and spirit. 
I am still at the ready to do whatever it is that needs doing, but in this week, I learned that there are some circumstances where God can handle the big stuff on His own.
My job is to take care of the tasks at hand and seek wisdom, and enjoy the peace that comes when you least expect it!

West Coast Again!

Well, my East Coast /West Coast life continues!

             
Thinking I was going to spend the winter months in North Carolina, I had already      accepted that I would not get to see the Pacific Ocean for a while.
                     But here I am. Wading in the surf wearing a sundress in December.

On the way, we stopped at Lake Havasu City, AZ in the desert to see the reconstructed bridge that used to be in London, relocated piece by piece and now standing in the middle of a desert.

I was thinking about the history of that bridge, the song I used to sing as a child while jumping rope, ("London bridge is falling down, my fair lady.."), and how strange that an American oil tycoon would buy a bridge that once spanned the  River Thames in England. So he could put it in a desert!

       Moonlight Beach
-sunshine, warm, salty air, gull and pelican sounds breaking silence, children squealing when feet touch the chilly water, food cooking scenting the air, waves crashing
-sleep on a sandy blanket.

Sadness on sadness

This is a very sad weekend for many families in Connecticut.
And for anyone who works with, loves, and has children.
How do you even begin the fathoming required to imagine such a tragic loss of life?
As a teacher of young children, I have been overwhelmed all weekend.
An ordinary day begun like so many others.
And then in an instant, everything changed.
Forever.
Caretakers and teachers are responsible for children.
Irreplaceable. Innocent. Children.
I have no answers for why this happened.
I have a greater understanding only that every moment
I have working, teaching, playing, and learning from children
is priceless.