blossom time

Pear blossoms stink. I didn't know that until I brought a handful into my house and ensconced them in a vase on my mantle. They are white, delicate, beautiful...and a bit stinky. It's that rotten flower smell. So from now on, I leave them outside to attract bees and turn into pears. Yum. Pears do not stink. Well, unless you let them rot, of course. But I digress.

The old, gnarly pear tree is just outside my bedroom window on the south side of the house. It surely is beautiful just now. The big, pale blooms have matured and are beginning to drop from the stem. This morning, in the still-dim early-morning light, a gust of wind kicked up and a shower of petals swirled through the air and across the dark green lawn. Ah. Magical.

today's deep thoughts

There's nothing wrong with a bit of ordinary--as long as it does not become a god.

Along the same vein, rebelling for the sake of rebelling is just as senseless as conforming for the sake of conforming.

Eating a sweet and juicy orange, however, should be accomplished with zeal no matter how messy the process becomes.

Luverly Lassitude

Last night, I slept with the window open. Fantastic. Spring has truly arrived. I woke up this morning at 6:30, and hit snooze as per usual, but instead of fully resuming unconsciousness I lay half-awake, breathing in the fresh air, hearing the bird song, and seeing the beginnings of the sunrise. Happy Friday. Oh, happy Friday indeed.
Today would be a good day to be a lanscaper or mailman or anything that took me outside. Instead I sit at a desk in an office that admirably has a door, but no windows. Ah, well. If I did have a window I assuredly wouldn't get as much work done. And if I were a mailman, winter would be much less pleasant. Give and take.

ps: the small bunch of daffodils in my yard have bloomed as of yesterday. Sweet yellow goodness.

ode to spring

Here I stand,
breakable.
Alive. Incomplete.
Hopeful.
Easily amused.

the honesty dance

Wanting to believe I am beautiful, managing it
some days—parts of days—struggling to hold on.
Struggling to be beautiful all the way through.
Wanting to always know that I am beloved,
cherished, magnificent, sexy. Failing to
eradicate the doubt. Failing to quite
erase the images of “more prettier” people
from my head. Failing to quite
manage to love my nose. Failing to
surrender vanity.

Failing, struggling, wanting.
Believing that all three of these
will someday cease. Clinging to
that. Clinging to faith. Living for the
moments—hours—half-days—nights
when I do not feel broken.

Let go let go let go.

The sweet soul ache for another. The pitifully small
trust that all things happen in God’s time. The fierce
independence and resolution to tackle
everything with bared hands and no excuses.
The lazy hours of longing. The belief that no one could
ever love me as you can, Lord.
The shame of my own imperfect passion.

I almost wish that I would
stop being moved by music.
It does me no good, stirring my heart like that. Making me
think of poetically melancholy things and dreams
worthy of a teenage-level crush.

And yet…
I stumble. I stumble. I dance.

buzz buzz

Well, I'm back on the coffee. Yesterday after church I had my first caffeine in nearly seven weeks. I was very awake all day. Not too buzzy, just...alert. I reined in and only had two cups of very delightful freshly ground Viking blend, which my sister sent me from the Valhalla roasters of Tacoma, Washington. Well done, vikings. Well done.

And I am currently enjoying the dark chocolate Dove heart that has been in my desk since Valentines' Day. Yum yum. Buzz buzz. Happy Monday, indeed.

the ugly truth

Ok, ok. Once again, the Adventures of Wonderspools have been sadly neglected. Inspiration and opportunity have just not been lining up lately.

And, to be honest--I wondered if anyone would notice. Pathetic, but true. For all my firm declaration that I keep this blog as a writing exercise for myself, the fact remains that I really, really like knowing that people read it. [blush with shame]

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, spring is coming, snow is melting, it's Holy Week, my favorite dog at the Humane Society has been adopted and I am both happy and sad about that, I will be seeing my family soon, I have paint samples hung up all over the house, I've discovered the musical delights of pandora.com, work is busy, Gladys is draped in a half-finished cotton dress, we cut massive amounts of firewood on Saturday and my lats are still a little sore from running the chainsaw, and it was warm enough on Friday to wash my car outside. The end.