“The trouble isn’t making poems, the trouble’s
finding somebody that will listen to them.”
finding somebody that will listen to them.”
~ Randall Jarrell (Illustrations by Maurice Sendak)
Friends?
Looking over our most recent additions to the garden this
morning—butterfly milkweed, heliotrope, dragon’s blood clover, and African daisies—I heard what I thought was a cat padding through the grass. I was kneeling down
and the animal was so close it brushed past my sweater. The encounter was only
a couple of heartbeats. Time enough for my brain to register though that it was
not a large ginger cat, but a fox. The
same radiant fox that pranced past my car earlier this week when I was backing
into my driveway.
 |
| Illustration: David Lupton |
I am in awe of this creature. It’s agile, graceful, and
seems playful (naïve though I am, it might have been stalking me and at the
last moment decided that I was too big to eat!). Nonetheless, it is quite
something to have a wild animal approach so closely of its own freewill. Pure magic!
To continue the theme of red (passion), we also have multiple
cardinal pairs nesting in the neighbourhood. I’ve become accustomed to their
calls and am often rewarded with flashes of crimson soaring by when I look up after
hearing a distinctive chirp.
There’s been a lot of rain this spring, hence a lot of
complaining. But I love the freshness that the rain brings. The delicate smell
of peonies, lilacs, and mock orange blossoms carries freely on the clean air. Soft
sounds of wind chimes, nesting birds, and leaves dancing in the wind soothe and
calm. Peace is in the air.
~ May the magic that
is always present invigorate and enliven you. With warm thoughts for your
health and happiness, Holly x ~
My Father
 |
| 1974 |
The rain is making meditative circles in the puddles. The trees are lush and the songbirds high in their branches sing contentedly. As I walk, I’m thinking about my dad and how smooth his face is after he shaves. He always smells so good—like cinnamon. I miss his rough hand holding mine tight. The last time I saw my dad face-to-face we were in the NICU with my newborn daughter. He kissed the top of Hope’s sweet head and told her he loved her. That was seven years ago. It’s been too long.
Searching through old photos, I’m surprised just how few
there are of my dad and me. Regrettably, the ones I do have are faded, at an
odd angle, or blurred. No perfect shot to capture our relationship. No words to
do this either. ~
Walk Away
 |
| Photo: Andrea Fitzpatrick |
My daughter was hurt yesterday. She was playing on the slide
when a friend crashed into her causing her to hop up a little and
hit her back on the side of the slide. When it comes to physical pain, Hope is
tough and doesn’t cry easily, so when she came running to me in tears I knew it
had to be a hard hit. Her little friend was not concerned in the least that she
had harmed her. Even still, Hope defended her friend declaring that it was an
accident. When the pain eased, Hope went to play again, but puzzlingly her friend
wouldn’t speak to her. It was a painful thing to witness. Hope had done nothing
wrong. She didn’t deserve this treatment. For the next fifteen minutes, I
watched Hope chase after her friend (whom she adores) tearful and trying to talk
and play, but her friend wouldn’t even look at her. She kept running off…
Hope was distressed by this and I did the only thing I
could do. With her little hands in mine, I looked directly into her blue eyes and
assured her that she had done nothing
wrong. However, to my dismay, she cried, “But I feel like I did.”
Why does it always
feel this way when someone we love hurts us? Why do we assume that we’ve done
something to deserve it? Through my daughter’s upsetting experience, I am
reminded how cruel silence can be. How essential it is to not give our power to
others by demanding their love and approval. How do we get to the place where we
are confident in ourselves and not needy of affection? It’s a lifelong learning
curve, I suppose. When we find ourselves chasing after someone, we must stop
and remember that we have no idea why people suddenly close off their hearts.
The onus is left on us to examine why we are reacting so strongly to another’s
behaviour. To see how deep our attachments have become—sometimes so deep
that we forget to honour and respect ourselves.
As I kissed the crescent-shaped bruise on my daughter’s lower
back, I remembered how important it is to know when enough’s enough and to
walk away for the day. We headed home to the comfort of bath time, books, and
peanut butter toast with butter.
Bookstore/Café Yay!
 |
"Tribute" by Linda Johns, acrylic on paper
|
Finding books in this manner gives me a lot of pleasure. The
fact that Hope loves reading as much as I do makes me exceedingly happy. The book I found is called Sharing a Robin’s Life. What an odd and fascinating book! It’s about a woman in Nova Scotia who has a
most unusual relationship with a robin that lives with her in her woodland home.
“Tribute” is a painting by the author, Linda Johns (it is included
as the frontispiece of the book). Enchanting work! There’s a short Life Network bio on Linda’s astonishing and eccentric life on YouTube, as well.
Oh! Hope’s treasured find was a Peanuts book. It’s a 1966 paperback edition in good condition. The
original price was 40 cents! It was marked $3.95, but I asked for a discount
and only ended up paying $2.00. Sharing a Robin’s Life was marked for $1.50, which is a steal in my opinion. Only $3.50 for two wonderful books! You can’t beat that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)