Of white flowers and thunder...

I may not have hydrangeas like I used to in my southern garden any more, but this high desert garden of mine has its own king of magic, and is been gifting me with masses and masses of glorious pompom beauties otherwise.  

My heart is full with thankfulness and admiration, and I am at peace.

I think of mom every day, and every moment of my life I wish I could return to those days of yesterday and see her dancing again; hear her voice and feel her hands in mines again.  

I was pulling weeds in the garden this afternoon while admiring all the small and wonderful beauties I’m surrounded with… then, from some unknown distance, a rumbling sound of thunder I heard… I run inside looking for shelter, but the downpour, although abundant, was quickly, and my soul wouldn't stay still.  Outside birds were calling; white pompoms kept singing, and my little heart found itself being one with the birds and the glorious whites, and thus, soon I was out there again in the wet garden collecting beauties for the house. 

How long will they last?   I wish I could keep things I love forever; forever dance in the little things, forever be able to understand that those we love and lose are always connected by heartstrings into infinity...

In my solitude I ponder much on the incomprehensible subjects of eternity, life and death, and my garden is always the revelation of it all.  Everything is coming back to life, everything growing rampant and freely.  We were created to have eternal life. Death cannot stop life.  

“It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and do not die, but retire a little from sight and afterwards return again." —Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Work, Determination, Magic!

The end of April… how magical it was!  

And how had everything in the garden fully-fledged and beautified my little world all of a sudden!

Every new morning is a new beginning, an unwrapping of a gift, a new chance, another beautifully freely gifted day… to start anew, to amend errors and opt for love.  And perhaps to find a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning?

And thus, these last few days of April have brought much magic to my little world, the magic I was waiting for—the first quail in the garden, its song a mysterious emphasis on life, and an innate response to its Creator.  I know, oh I know there will more of them coming, and then I will be here, waiting for them beside all of my other little garden friends!

I have worked so much and so hard for months.  Worked in the middle of winter under awful winds and chilly temps, but everything is unfolding as I’ve expected it would, and the garden is marvelously responding in a thousand ways, and it is speaking to me secretly, and it's been gifting gifting!  How marvelous, how very marvelous to see it coming back to an orderly beauty!  No more weeds or unwanted grasses, no despairing shoots and unruly canes.  Roses are growing stronger and bushier by the day, and every little transplant I’d made is making it. I know that angels walk along me as I work and pull weeds, and by my side… oh by my side a Shadow—nay, more.  Even under His wings.

Ah my friends, I do believe in magic, but a dream doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work... I’m getting there!

Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.  Then, you can sit and relax!

Hasta luego!

Spring is in the air

My little world has been painted in fuchsias and pinks, and the ground smells like cherry blossoms.

Mourning doves are serenading the open spaces above my head at all hours of day, and under my feet soft, green grasses.  The trees, the tulips—those first splendid gems of early spring, the sun, the moon, and stars these are the themes of my meditations and morning and evening walks in the garden.  

The lilac tree is bursting in blooms; full, and heavy, with glorious jewels of dark purple and amethysts. 

The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with lilac perfume... Can you see the moon above the blossoms?

How can I describe it?  The scent... the glorious, marvelous scent of the lilacs being carried by winds. It marvels me, this scent... it dulls every other senses and you feel as if the earth is letting itself be inhaled in this simple, lovely perfume of which I can only say it contains so much depth within itself, light and darkness, and something greater than life itself.  

Oh the lilac scent; the ripe earth... 

A black cat among roses, 

garden phlox, lilac-misted under a fainted moon

Things I love... 

I want to fill my house with lilac perfume... oh, I want more… more; masses of them!

I have been working hard too.  All of the outside furniture had been painted. New cushions have been provided, every flowerpot, all the little things, the weather tattered fountains and decorations stained and painted...

...and now I sit and wait for the mocking-bird, the whip-poor-will, the yellow-throat and the humming bird.

Life at this old house in the roses

I have started running again.  A few hours after our super early morning breakfast I go out, but mornings here are nothing like those southern mornings of my yesterdays...  

Our sun is a lazy sun and by nine it is still cold outside, and chilly winds are an impossible thing to conquer... 

Oh, how I miss those sun-filled mornings of my southern days!  And how I miss the glorious silence and privacy of our little white cocoon.  Neighborhood dogs are worse than the wind around here, and I find myself wishing upon a star for the quiet days of the country life again. Looking back, I am astonished, and can hardly believe how all of my dreams had come true while living in that little white cottage that was my kingdom of heaven.  I wish it would only be the gentle quietness of birds and the purr of cats around here.  But it is not.

I've found another painting that I really like. This creepy beauty here came home with me yesterday from my roundabouts at our local thrift stores...  

It is such a colorful and creative work of art!  She reminds me of the Frida Kahlo in the movie Coco.  Have you seen it?  I knew I had to have her the minute I put her back in the shelves thinking she was cool, but pretty weird, and then saw a woman pondering over it. I heard her talking to her son into getting it and I knew I'd lost my chance, but then they put her back in the shelves.  “Too creepy”, said the son!  I almost snatched her out of their hands right after that! ;) 

Gary, our painter, is again postponing my dream of seeing our home being renovated in newly fresh paint, and thus I’m not talking to him.  It is better to ignore him and let him come whenever he sees it fit, than having to bear his idiosyncrasy…

In the garden, the lilacs are being tossed by winds, and the scent, the glorious, glorious scent of it is embracing every inch of my soul.  This morning, I collected my first bouquet, everything glowing and blowing, the cherry tree petals everywhere and the blessed little birds reigning supreme.

Lilacs are such a delight, and I want every pot and bowl and tub in the house filled with their purple glories. That’s why we got another lilac bush this past Sunday—a French Lilac bush that the Fisherman himself got for me and planted it for me.

What would it be next?  I wonder.  What flower, branch or wildflower from my very own gardens would I be collecting and bringing in?  Roses.  The May roses!  I can hardly wait!

The front of our house is a riot of white petals these days... 

Both of the trees in the front yard are covered in wonderful, precious blooms; so much, that the house is almost covered in their splendors.    

The front porch gets a lot of shade now, and it is almost hard to believe this is the same sunny porch of just a few years ago, when the trees were young and the hot sun of the high desert summers flooded it all day long.  I was thinking of a large geranium pot by the door, or the climbing Mandevilla and some hanging baskets, but now I don't know.

I'm writing from behind those windows on the second floor.  Can you see me? ;) All I see when I look down are the white and pink canopies of these trees.  I love it!