For 3 days the water
soaked into the hay,
transforming the dirt into mud.
Dry ditches flowed with runoff.
Happy blades of grass turned green.
Sun rose, birds sang, even if
all was not right with the world.
~ enjoy a one-minute video with the sound on ~
P.S. A week earlier, Shelly had a rare viewing of the water filling the canal for the first time in the season! See it on Instagram.
I have a box where I keep ideas, like props I want to play with some day. In that box sits a light bulb twice as big as my palms.
It’s hard to hold onto ideas, sometimes. They’re fleeting. Unclear. Brilliant but bygone as soon as you try to fill them with details and words.
This light bulb wove its way to the top of the box and the top of my mind, after decades encased with a clip between plastic and cardboard. “It’s my time,” it whispered, then rattled some more.
The sun had barely crept over the mesa when the light bulb woke me that day. At first it asked to simply be held and beholded. It was slippery, that idea. My lack of opposable thumbs didn’t help!
I sought a twist-tie in the kitchen, but it was too short. Then I found a rubberband in my junk drawer, where other ideas toss-tumble and jumble, waiting their turn. Now I could hold that idea more firmly, testing its shine as the sun spilled over the peaks, past orchards and pastures, into my window. I leaned into listening to the idea, so quiet at first.
When have you heard an idea beginning to form? Does it whisper? Does grab your attention with a blinding Aha!!! ???
Snowflake, having finished her breakfast, had questions about this idea. But it was too early to clarify with any coherence, so she glared instead.
“Too bright,” she mutter-meowed.
Truth. Beauty. Love. Good words. Good ideas. But where do we go with concepts like that? We must lift up ideas to be seen, examined, experienced…
Let new ideas swirl in the light of day dawning…
Go toward the light. To the window! To the view!
“Staying indoors is not good enough,” said the idea. “Go outside and play,” it insisted. Ask other bulbs how do they grow…
When queried, “How do you do? And by the way, how do you shine?” the grape hyacinths answered, “We simply bloom from our bulbs into blue. We just be as we do.”
“So that’s how you shine?” I and the light bulb replied, our question mark rising an octave.
“I’m beginning to see,” I said to the light bulb, meaning this idea about shining your light.
Aha! I declared as we brimmed full of photons. We are diamonds in the sky, day and night.
We can twinkle in daylight, we can twinkle in dark. We can dream in starlight and sunshine.
What ideas are coming to life because you’re shining your light?
How are you holding the light that YOU are, not just in your mind but your soul?
We love the idea of YOU and your light! Please keep shining brightly!
Late afternoon, May 1st, in the Colorado Mountains
A walk on the beach inbetween snow showers
True blue of a Colorado sky
Clouds before dinner
Imagine spinning slowly, fingertips touching wisps of wheat in wind
The magic of microvision. The lack of smellovision. The joy of spring.
good day. bad day.
flowers. weeds.
small. gigantic.
snowy morning.
sunny afternoon.
bad day. good day.
it’s all in your a sense of perspective.
fickle spring
monday
me
Here are some random thoughts and photos of our “Spring Day with Dandelions” Emoti-Photoshoot.
The First Dandelion of Spring
Adornment of Queen Mariposa Emotikin
Mariposa's Senior Pic
The best thing about dandelions is that they bloom into magic-wish wands.
St Francis Farm, April 9, 2002, Palisade, Colorado. Witnessing our first full spring of blossoms as orchardists. Cherries, apricots, pears, plums. Bees yet to kiss blossoms. Bushels yet to be bountiful. Anticipation. Spring. Nostalgia for eight years past. Before time passed. Happy memories. Mind’s eye smelling blossoms.
Today’s garden lacks blooming trees. Tree gift certificate from our winter wedding still waiting to be redeemed. Plant pink blossoms? Soon.
Mmmm... Inhale!
No leaf buds yet on the swamp oak. Intermittent-only blue sky on a spring Saturday. 50 percent off pink, yellow, blue, green tags at the ARC. Nylon scarves in seven hues, 50% off. Thrify solution to a cloudy day. Make scarf-blossoms for the Emotikin family tree. Make a rainbow toga for a Goddess. Make color count.
Now it’s easier to believe Spring is coming.
Today was the day I thought was the equinox, where at 10am Mtn time, Spring would begin with a day equally balanced. I celebrated with Terry over our first lunchtime picnic of the year, 65 degrees of sun warming bare feet, shoes kicked off, laying back on the Mexican blankets (damp from melted weekend snow). We ate peanut butter & honey on thick white bread from Heidi’s Deli—drenched so it felt like eating honeycomb—and then PB&strawberryJam. It was the 2nd year we’ve been lunching in the old Louisville cemetary, surrounded by ghosts of couples from the 1800’s who danced, lived, ate and died together. Welcome to spring!
No emotikins were present, unfortunately. But if they were, you would have seen a bright sunny day, brown grass trying to be green, blue sky knowing it is turquoise, and a Red Delicious looking better than it tastes. (I think I will start a “Photos Not Taken” page with only word-pictures instead.)
Three years ago, I celebrated spring break with a sister’s vacation—a week in South Beach with Jenéne, a week before I knew I was going to get a new job at Sounds True. Here’s to Not Knowing, to wondering what was next, where I’d choose to be, and trusting that the Universe knew and I didn’t have to…yet. Here’s to the balance of days, light & dark, longer days on the way. (Tonight, Jenéne reminded me that the Spring Equinox was actually Saturday.)
Emotikin World 