Of hoarders and roses

The other day I went around my house collecting treasures and later donated quite the bundle to one of our local thrift stores.  It feels so good to get rid of things you know you won’t be needing any longer, or simply you're just not fond of any more.  Have you seen the show Hoarders?  This show goes into the lives of people with a mental disorder that causes them to obsessively collect things, even if the items are unnecessary and unneeded. It shows their effort to get help and recover, and it totally freaks me out.  So, from time to time I’d perform a ritual of sorts by examining my closets, drawers and nooks and then discarding things I don’t want any more… 

This closet here holds an entire assortment of princesses’ dresses… all beautiful and very much loved by some very dear princesses, so instead of giving them away, I keep adding more and more to the collection… these little princesses I'm telling you about love them all, and love me for that too! 

I have more… oh I have more stuff I’d need to get rid of, but I can’t seem to part from them yet, plus, it really isn't that much anyway—compare to other people, that is! But, it is always best to be on the minimalist side, me thinks!  So, I guess I’m safe for now.

Roses were still gifting me some glorious jewels until recently; until I decided to get them ready for winter and pruned them this week, even if they were still blooming… because, you know, it is already getting pretty cold around here my dears, and when temperatures change like that, and the atmosphere gets frosty and tiny ice-crystals hung from the air almost invisible to the eye, but not to the bones, I just prefer to stay inside, and won’t dare go outside… so, on foreseeing all that, I went ahead and pruned off all the roses... 

...then I made some lovely bouquets to bring inside and also embellish birdbaths and fountains, as well...

I few weeks ago I removed the climbing Royal Sunset rose that took so much of my strength, and then the following day two more rose bushes were taken out as well—those in the same border along our bedroom wall, and which had also gone wild by whatever reason and, having been replaced by the rooted canes of the rose Dr. Huey hadn’t put any flowers, and never will.

Most roses are budded onto a different rootstock. In the U.S. most commercial growers use a variety called "Dr Huey" as the rootstock and then bud different varieties on top of the Dr Huey roots.  Dr Huey is a climbing rose with dark red flowers. So, if one year you planted a yellow rose and the next year you get dark red roses, (or no flowers at all) that means that the top variety got killed over the winter and the Doctor Huey roots are sending up shoots. And time to replace your roses, my friend! 

Hope y'all are doing splendidly my friends!

The sand dunes

I enjoyed our last voyage to the sand dunes so much last weekend, that this weekend I beg the Fisherman to set out for the desert again… and thus, we did.

Strong winds blew incessantly lifting up sands everywhere and with such impetus, that from inside our cozy tent it sounded like a furious sea, with big mad waves crashing onto some lofty sea cliff.  Tumbleweeds toppled down and rolled around trailers and tables and every wall in our gypsy caravan groaned and shock violently.  So pugnaciously winds blew, and howled, that we thought about packing everything up and head back home, but the dunes had taunted us with sunshine and coyote songs and we decided to take a chance and stay.

I had bought new blankets and colorful mandalas to decorate and spice up a bit our gypsy caravan, and thus, both sleeping quarters got a beautiful makeover.  New softer, puffier pillows and pillowcases too.

The campground wasn’t as crowded as some other times and we drove down to the sand dunes and walked around beautiful solitary spaces sheltered in the flora of dunes and lake that reminded me so much of the wildernesses of Israel. Then came back to our cozy tent to hide from the wind, and made us a late lunch of Italian wedding soup, tamales and Pot-stickers...

That afternoon we read and worked on our computers and ate chocolate chip cookies and drank lattes, until we couldn’t hear the wind blowing outside any longer, and everything calmed down and the night came upon our gypsy caravan in soft murmurs.  It was cold and dark in the desert, but inside our cozy cocoon it was the most pleasant place in the whole wide world, warm, comfy, snug, comfortable, colorful, romantic and inviting…

The following morning turned out to be one of the pretties, pristine days of the year for camping. Our bed felt so cozy and warm, it was hard to get up... 

We made our coffee and had a breakfast of cranberry-walnut toast, cheeses and mini taquitos...

Then, we bundled up and headed out to walked the sand desert paths... it was so beautiful, with a beautiful warm sun shining down on us and the desert revealing itself in languages of love and mystery and wonder...

We walked all the way to the lake and sat at the dock for a while, with only the company of the mallards and birds.  

What a beautiful, beautiful place this is!  But I think this was our last gypsy outing of the year, because days and nights are getting too cold already to continue roaming the world out there, plus in the following weeks we will be super busy babysitting and visiting some other places too, although by air… so that’s it!  Until spring, dear Gypsy Caravan!  Thanks for all the good times you have gifted us there!

Pondering and dreaming

It rained all day yesterday, and the landscape has attained the colors of velvety royal garments—maroon, scarlet, wine-burgundy, mustard-yellow and reddish-purple. My heart yearns for the flight of birds; to fly the earth with my eyes turned skyward and from my windows on the upper floors head over to the purple-blue mountains reaching out the heavens... mountains and sky; like some lovers embracing each other in the ether of eternity.

In the back gardens, the roses are still perfuming the atmosphere in a thousand dreams. In florid skirts I walk barefoot through scattered petals, and the scent of autumn is everywhere.  “Weave, weave the sunshine in your hair”—I hear the roses sing, and I do, I do… my soul swells in the warmth of golden days and ripe apricot colors, before melancholy settles upon our winter nights.

And how fast had seasons come and gone; how swiftly had life strolled through my hours; leaving me so full of questions to ponder about, to stretch out my arms to the heavens in an earnest desire to leave a trace of wings in the air… and ask, in reverie, Am I broken, or special, or better, or worse?  Each month comes with its own memories, and tomorrow I will be celebrating another birthday and remembering the woman who carried me in her womb an eternity ago.

Gypsy life

October 6—the sand dunes—I love the dunes in October; the immense, open landscape of golden-haired grasses, bright yellow, daisy-like blossoms and magenta flowers against the gray backdrop of those prodigious columns of sands grasping the bluest of horizons.  So, even knowing we were to brace some cold nights under the prevailing winds of the high desert, we went along with our plans and made camp among the Russian Olive trees in sand dunes that began by a flood that took place about 15,000 years ago.

Colorful pillows, cozy blankets, small plants and windblown designs in the sand under a blue sky… desert, prairie, dune, marsh and lake habitats; black-tailed jackrabbits, coyotes, mule deer and porcupines under great open skies supporting an abundance of birds.   

Colorful, big warm bed...

And one more, in case you want to show up too!

Good books and good coffee for windy days and cold nights!

And yummy food too!

To enjoy inside or outside the gypsy caravan!

That first morning after our arrival, I woke up suddenly at about 6:00am.  It was still dark as night outside, and beside me the Fisherman slept peacefully.  It felt cozy and warm inside our tent, and in the placid stillness that surrounded me, I felt this yearn for God’s presence; his voice summoning me to come to Him.  A sincere desire, a need deep in the deepest part of my soul; a yearn, and a thirst of the spirit to be filled with the fullness of God possessed me, and took me down on my knees, and I prayed—prayed for a sign of God’s nearness and favor upon His servant in the song of owls… I wanted to hear an owl as an indication of God’s nearness, until alas, from above our tent came the hunting sound I was expecting; magnificent and revealing, the song of an owl resting on one of the trees right above our humbleness and faithful hearts.

I kept kneeling there, just there, listening to the beats of my heart in the deep voices of the wild, unable to move in wonder and awe.  Then, unexpectedly, from the distance came the voices of coyotes; uniting and blending with that of the owl, forming one single song with the song of my own heart.  For hadn’t I also asked God to let me hear the voices of those creatures of the high desert?  And how beautiful, and how spiritual the moment at the break of the new day was!  My heart was overflowing with the fullness of God’s joy.  And I knew, without a doubt, that I had been with the Lord.


PS:  If you enjoy reading about our gypsy trips in our gypsy caravan, don't forget to visit my "Gypsy Dreams" blog for more!  

See you around friends!