Reflections of Light and Depth and Soul

My eyes open to look for light...

Is that light...
is it morning...
or is that reflections from the streetlight peeking through the blinds?

I feign consciousness.

It is so faint, the light.  It is morning.  Barely.   A new day.

Like a pogo stick, my mind jumps from one thing to another, trying to remember my to-do list for this last Friday of January.  Oh, but first:  COFFEE.

I pad downstairs, spying my charcoal and cream, insanely warm fleece pullover.  Instant coziness. Harkening winter birds outside the sunroom remind me again -- yes, I hear you, little ones.   It IS morning.  Sing on, friends.  Sing with soul.  Acoustic has long been my favorite.

I light a candle.  And then another.  Keep it coming -- flickering delicate light that visually warms and comforts me -- so I light more.  Reflections.  Winter.  The perfect canvas for reflection.

Making it to the post office (why must the postal worker be so chatty when there's a long line of waiting customers, can the story of her aunt in Ohio wait?), then off to pick up a few muchies for the upcoming Super Bowl.  And Stella Artois.  My football beverage of choice.

It's been a quiet last fews days of unplanned solitude for me.  Rediscovering my lost passions ... painting.  Creativity.

Rummaging through my inventory of paints, stains, waxes, brushes -- all things art -- I collect an array of colors for my experiment.  Black, canvas white, burnt sienna, urban bronze, camel.   They will play quite well together.

It is DEPTH I'm going for on a tired but promising mirror hanging in the stairwell.   I should have taken a "before" -- I almost always forget.   From a pale two-tone gloriless gray that did NOT pop, to this........

Depth.  Soul.  Rugged.  Acoustic, even.

If my mirror had a voice, it would be raspy and mesmerizing.  Like Ray LaMontagne.  (Oh, what a voice)

Mission accomplished.

At Home Among the Trees

I can't remember how long ago -- or perhaps I was born this way -- that my love for trees began.

Walking through a parking lot, along the highway, in a shopping mall, every walk in the woods and every park I visit, I first notice the trees.  Up close, inspecting their bark, their leaves, their majesty.

My house is actually decorated with an abundance of branches.  Some may think it a bit eccentric.

Trees.  Their branches.  All things "trees" bring me calm.  Joy.   They seem to whisper to me and I never fail to acknowledge.

saved birch limbs from a tree we had to remove

bring them inside...welcome home!

Time Doesn't Wait

It's been so long.  So little time.   Revered time to myself.   An evanescent commodity.  My heart longs to "bleed," quoting Hemingway, but I can't seem to carve out time for such luxuries.

Obligations take priority now.  How did that happen, and why now?

This doesn't feel right.  And my soul is out of sync.

I can at least offer snapshots, peeks into my heart, vignettes that have brought joy to my life.  It's all I have for now.

Autumn morning mist at the lake

Simple shot of bull pine cones in West Virginia

Cenacolo

North Huntingdon, Pennsylvania

Fire Alarm Tests, a Necessary Evil

So I'm sitting here minding my own business on a peaceful Friday afternoon, instrumental music (what else?) playing softly in the background, as I answer emails and wait for the apple oatmeal cookie dough to finish chilling in the frig before baking.

(Credits to Danielle from Live Well Bake Often Blog)

A delightful fall afternoon.

Until I hear this off-the-charts high-decibel, prolonged and very shrill shrieking sound.  Yes, all of those adjectives are necessary.

I jumped measurable inches out of my office chair.  Chessie, my peke-a-poo, practically springloaded into my lap. 

And it just kept going.

We're not talking beeps here.  Oh, no. 
Long, shrill shrieks, blasting my eardrums.  Let's be sure everyone for miles and miles hears this alarm. 

I wanted to open the apartment door and yell to maintenance or whoever else was conducting this drill, helllooooo?  Mine is working is just fine.  Thanks!  You can stop now.

So much for a peaceful Friday afternoon.

Now.  Where was I?  Oh, yeah.  The cookie dough.

Crap.  There it goes again! 

 Stop!  Enough already!

Cascade Lights and Rain

That describes my day.  The first rain we've seen in this part of NC in months.  Showers of blessing...the heavens finally opened up. 

I couldn't sleep this morning, so I gave up and came downstairs, lit a few candles, plugged in my cascade lights in my sunroom, and listened to the rain.  Watching it bounce off the patio along with the falling acorns from the giant oaks.  It was barely light enough to see out.  Incredibly peaceful.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and remained glued to my chair, mesmerized by the rain and its effect on me. 

Later, a need and desire to be in His house to worship, and on the way home, a few errands.  I couldn't wait to get back to the house and resume with a little fall decorating.  What a homebody I've become.  But it feels so right.

And the lights?  They feel magical in the darkness of dawn.

It's the perfect place to practice my Italian.

I'm teaching myself, via Duo Lingo.  Very cool app.

Hoping it will come in handy...

two more days, and I will be in Naples, Italy!

My bucket list.

Check.

I am blessed!

Restlessness and Need for Peace

God knows what we need, just when we need it.

I stumbled upon this prayer this morning.  A morning when, like so many other days in my past, I wanted to talk with Him, pour out my soul.  But the words wouldn't come.

And yet He knows.  HE always knows the words.  Long before I even speak them.
And He knows what I need, even before I do.  And yet He patiently waits ... waits for as long as it takes ... for me to acknowledge this to Him.

Oh Lord, sometimes my insides feel like a battle zone, where missiles are falling too close to home. Other times I'm caught in an endless storm, with thoughts flying out of control. Confusion reigns, and defeat creeps in to steal my joy.  I need your peace—the deep-down-in-your-heart kind that stays with me day and night and speaks confidently into the wind. Calm my anxious spirit, Lord; all the attacking "if-onlys" and "what-ifs" fill me with needless worry.

I know that trust is a big part of experiencing peace and that fear has no place in my life. Most of the things I worry about or dread don't even happen. So I'm declaring my trust in you. I'm releasing the reins of my life again and asking you to take control. 

I may need to pray this same prayer daily, but I'm tired of the frenzy of life that leaves my schedule and my thoughts without any margin. I need more of you, Lord, and less of me.

Suspended

2019.  I knew it would be non-stop.  And it has been.

The busyness began in April -- a trip to Watertown, New York.  

My son and daughter-in-law were living there -- WERE -- temporarily.  She's a travel nurse at the present time, while he works towards finishing his master's in archaeology at Binghamton University.  He finally found his passion.   Let the man dig!  

He just returned from his second field dig in South Africa.  Somehow Google knows I now have an interest in archaeology.  I get articles now on my news feeds of all the latest discoveries in the field.  No secrets anymore, I guess.  We can run but we can't hide or something like that.

Fast-forward to the present -- living in an apartment complex.  

Suspended somewhere between then -- a big house in suburbia -- to a third-floor apartment that I've worked at making "homey" while we're here.  And we'll be here until -- well, that's undetermined.  So.  Yeah.  Living suspended.  

But for now, I suppose this is home-away-from-home.  

The lake house is now our HOME.

It's a cool little place.  Quiet.  Beautiful view of a country hillside behind the complex.  Awesome sunset views.  Lovely, intoxicating sunsets.  

Oh, and the third floor is great for privacy.  A pain for early-morning dog walks  -- yep

or hauling in groceries..-- DEFINITELY.

And nope, no elevator!   

Yeah, well, I think of it as just another chance to exercise.  

God knows I need it.  

And besides.  I'm pretty sure third floor is too high for mosquitoes.  

Mosquitoes are afraid of heights.  Right?  

"So it seems," she grinned with delight.  

 It's all good.

 
 

My tiny little balcony is cozy and candle-lit, bordered with plants and flowers and comfy things.  I must have access to the outdoors.  The little balcony is an extension of my living space.

I listen to the quiet, punctuated with tenants coming and going, my Billie Holiday playing softly in the background.  I wonder if they've figured out that I'm an old soul...a jazz lover.  People seem friendly here.  It's a colony of dog-lovers.  Chessie seems to have adapted just fine.    

Me?  I'm still waiting to "settle in" to this chapter.  

But how does one settle into a state of suspension?