into my bowl yesterday.
It was a generous portion
the yearly super bowl
for our gardening business.
(And the one month that makes
seem fair).To complicate matters,
my hubby is gimpy with a blown knee
and limping through the season
until he gets a brand spanking new one in mid-November.
And so it feels as if someone has dropped some
extra heavy stones in my backpack.
Today I set the backpack down on a hillside picnic table
and spent a few golden hours
watching horses quietly grazing and basked with them
in the late afternoon sun.
I breathed in deeply that smell
~like a freshly opened bag of potting soil.
And wondered…..fretted actually….over hanging a
“Closed for October” sign on my blog
because I don’t want to post stuff
that’s as mumsy and tired as I feel.
As I rolled this idea around in my head,
I watched a flock of starlings swarming and swooping,
scattering and swirling like confetti on a breezy current,
and my heart began to lift and lilt
with their dipping and diving.
I thought how life is fluid like that
~it’s a dance; the beauty is in the movement,
not in pretty still-life perfection,
and how there is something unnatural about
the idealism I’m struggling with
….something fake (ouch!)
And so I’m tossing the “closed” sign
and opening wide.
I’ll slice from my busyness
the slivers as they come
and write the snippets down
and let them be what they are
and see if the wind just may stir them to a dance of their own.