So, Spring Was A Little Late This Year
Before the snow-magedon that didn’t quite happen a few weeks ago, I saw a brave little crocus, nestled at the base of a neighbor’s large river oak. The contrast of its fragile color so close against the rough bark called me over for a closer look. Hang on, it seemed to say, spring is coming!
I am glad I took that picture when I did. For, more winter came back – freezing the flowers and buds brave enough to emerge, and leaving one more reminder that
Getting an inch of snow [in mid-March] is like winning 10 cents in the lottery. ~Bill Watterson
In the chilly days following, looking at the damage the cold wrought here, and remembering what the tail end of March is in Dallas has occupied my imagination. I’ve directed my frustration over spring’s delay to a canvas, and refreshed my memory of the promise I saw a week earlier.
And, since the weather put me in a holding pattern, I realized I have time to do a bit of planning – well as much as one can with pot – gardening. (CONTAINERS, that is, just to be clear.) As you know, if you know me, I can go overboard with the pots, creating just as much work, maybe more than if I simply planted the beds!
Clutter doesn’t work any better in a garden than it does in a home.
Since I couldn’t play in the dirt yesterday, I culled a few of my books, and magazines. I feel like I am breaking up with a very good friend each time I put a book in the discard pile. Ah, all the information I did not quite acquire I am passing on, hoping it brightens, informs, and challenges another who loves all things second-hand.
Happiness is a place between too little and too much. ~Finnish proverb
A remark my friend made, describing her task of emptying her recently departed mom’s home, shoved me out of neutral. Her mom would never give away or share any of her belongings, even to those in need, lest giving stuff away meant death was close.
Do you see why that got me off the dime? What will get you off the dime to declutter and share your stuff?
Yes, I am weeding again through cherished books, when I am not painting.
Note to my heirs: You may find, in my absence, more paintings then you can ever hang in closets, garage, basement, and attic .
Just kidding. I don’t climb the attic stairs – too rickety.