“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.” ~William Blake

As a little boy my youngest son gave my father a tree. Every time he visits my dad they go out to check the progress of the tree’s growth. The once small twig now stands taller than both of them. My father’s love of trees has not only passed on to me but through me to my youngest son. This year for Mother’s Day he gifted me with a tree. Not just any tree, but a Dogwood tree. The Dogwood happens to be both the Virginia state tree and flower. Think the Old Dominion has a love affair with the Dogwood? I have been so tickled for our yard to be home to some Cardinals (Virginia’s state bird)…and now I am home to a Dogwood as well. Do you get the idea that I absolutely love living in Virginia? Why yes indeed, I love Virginia from the mountains to the ocean and all in between!

Living in the Gap

May 12, 2012 – Heat of the Day

I wake up with yesterday’s migraine in the background. It lingers, punching now and then to let me know it has the power to take over at any time. DirtMan and I go to purchase landscape plants. The heat presses on my forehead and down my neck now and then. DirtMan has a flat of ornamental purple fountain grass and Japanese sliver grass. I attempt to meet him at the checkout with my cart of sweet basil, lavender, bee balm, lantana, and verbena. As I approach the flat, I see him outside carrying two more plants. When he returns I question him about getting more. Apparently while he left his cart unattended to help me get fertilizer someone stole two of his plants. Two ladies in front of us (apparently they were witness to his realization of the theft) turn around and tell him they almost took some of his plants and hid them while he was outside just to see his reaction. He laughs and tells them his watchdog (me) is now on guard and would have readied the situation. We look to the side and see his two plants in an unattended cart. I watch to see who comes to the cart…appears to be a sweet elderly couple. Perhaps they thought the flat was a display stand. As we roll our purchases outside one of DirtMan’s pots fall off the flat, dirt splays onto the pavement but plant remains intact. One of the ladies remarks as to whether it is a sign he is not meant to buy those plants! The heat and headache don’t make for a good day of planting, so we save the work for the next day.

Living in the Gap

May 13, 2012 – Taking it Slow

Both male and female cardinals perch upon the feeder. Each time we get close to the window to take a picture he flies away. Time after time we approach slowly, and still the male takes off as soon as he catches a glimpse of us. The female doesn’t scare as easily. She pecks and pokes her head about as she continues to eat. At times she sits till and stares right at us.In fact, it is almost as if she is posing for the camera.

Living in the Gap

May 14, 2012 – Impending Rain

After a leisurely walk with Wylie, DirtMan and I relax in the backyard. We both notice the change in the air. Dampness hangs about us as a crisp moisture enters the atmosphere. The sun has not set but it is nowhere in sight. Clouds float and reshape. The chimes cling and clang in the slight breeze. A peregrine falcon gracefully soars among the treetops. Wings arched, it appears to be a capital M drifting into the clouds.

Living in the Gap

May 15, 2012 – Morning Storm

I hear what sounds like furniture scraping against the floor upstairs. It grumbles a bit louder, and I realize it is thunder. I look out the window to see a veil of darkness pushing its way in like a schoolyard bully forcing his way into the sandbox. As the rain starts to plummet it appears as if someone has placed a layer of plastic wrap between me and my world. Tree limbs that were gently swaying are blurred into a green mass of watercolor.

While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see.  ~Dorothea Lange

We each see things differently. What is pretty to me might not be to another. We possibly have different tastes or our eyes focus on different aspects of the picture. Lighting changes; dimness softens while brightness sharpens. Items are added or taken away. Sometimes we simply see what we want or what we are looking for.

This is a place I go to often. While it looks somewhat the same, the ambiance changes not only with the season but the time of day. It exudes serenity, but at dusk it takes on an entirely new charm. When the sky is cloudy the colors are more abundant and the sunset more alluring. This serves as a lesson to me on how I look at people. What I see in mere appearance is not who they are. Their colors come to surface through attitude and action.

On an equal note, as lovely as this scene is under certain conditions it has the power to not be as lovely. After a hard rain, there is a threat of flooding. When winds are harsh, downed trees cause damages. Again, this lesson resides in people; just because they look lovely it doesn’t mean they are attractive from the inside out.

Picturesque? Are you pleasing or are you a pleaser?

Don’t merely look at your world; see it.

Know your scenery. Know your people. Most of all, know yourself.

Spin Cycle: Pictures

A mother’s love is patient and forgiving when all others are forsaking, it never fails or falters, even though the heart is breaking. ~Helen Rice

1970

“But I don’t want to play with her.” With arms folded I stomp my foot and glare at her.

“I don’t care if you want to or not. She doesn’t have a mother, and you WILL be nice to her.” Her eyes drill right through mine with the same defiance I inherited from her.

“I can be nice to her at school. I don’t want to play at her house.”

“You will be nice to her at school and at her house.” Her eyes never falter while mine bounce from my dirtied white tennis shoes to her cold blue eyes and to the horse and hounds picture above the mantle.

“But she plays with stupid baby dolls. Not Barbie dolls.”

“You can take Barbies to her house.”

“She doesn’t like those kinds of dolls. She only likes baby doll stuff.”

“It won’t kill you to play baby dolls this once.”

“But her nose is always snotting all over her face, and she gets all red and crusty.  And she threw up on the bus once. It was really gross.”

“You will play with her tomorrow whether you want to or not.”

I am already well aware my mother’s mother died when she was two, so I am not surprised when she adds the  famous line I know not to cross. “You don’t know how lucky you are to have a mother.”  I want to retort that I bet her mother would never have made her play with kids she didn’t like, but I know I’ve lost the battle. Then I remember there is a sandbox in Lucy’s (not her real name) yard and figure maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

1980

“No you’re not going to her house for the weekend.” She says this from behind the paper grocery sack she is unloading.

“Why not?” I only want to stay with my friend for the weekend. They actually go places and do things. Here I am stuck with three static television channels and no telephone. Oh, and my mother for company.

“Because I said so that’s why!” The tone is sharp and I know better than to push her buttons, but I do it anyway.

“That’s not a reason.”

“You’re not going and leaving me here all alone. You’re staying and that’s final.”

“That’s not my problem. You’re just mean.” I slam the door of the kitchen cabinet as hard as I can just as her hand slaps my cheek.

“You treat me like a dog. You don’t know how lucky you are to have a mother.”  I run to my room crying, not because the slap hurt but because I can’t believe she dared to strike me. I lock my door and think about how sorry she’d feel if I ran away from home.

1990

I am a married woman with a toddler and an infant. I live almost four hours from my mother, and I miss having her close by. I call my mother often asking for advice. I KNOW I am lucky to have a mother.

2000

My parents celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They renew their vows. I think of how sad it must have been for her not to have had her mother with her on her wedding day. Her father was there for all of her important times in life, and though I don’t ask her I wonder if she is missing him today.

I KNOW I am lucky to still have both parents. I KNOW I am lucky to have had them both as my parents.

2010

My parents celebrate their sixtieth wedding anniversary. We have family portraits taken, both parents and all six grown children. We joke and laugh among us and smile for the camera. We enjoy the party. We have no idea it is the last family photograph. We don’t know our parents and all six of their children will never gather together again. I am lucky to have my parents and my siblings, but I am so busy greeting and mingling with guests I don’t take time to tell them.

2011

The phone rings, and it’s my mother. She can hardly speak. She chokes and stammers through tears and gasps. “Your brother has cancer. It’s terminal. He might only have a month.” I feel like I’ve been socked in the stomach. I’m at a loss for words. I’m trying to find hope where I see none.

Cancer steals my brother quickly. Though we each get to say our goodbyes we are unable to meet as a family until we send him on his final farewell.

Tears flow as we are all hurting and dealing in our own way. I can’t imagine the pain my parents must feel in losing their son.

Though we’ve had our ups and downs, I know we have been blessed as a family. I know we mustn’t take one another or life for granted.

2012

Mother’s Day is only a few days a way. I know being a mother is the single most important thing I’ve done in my life. I am thankful for having had a mother and for being one. Yes, I know how lucky I am to have a mother and to be one. I can’t imagine having had to grow up without her…again she was right; back then I didn’t know how lucky I was.

“As mothers and daughters, we are connected with one another. My mother is the bones of my spine, keeping me straight and true. She is my blood, making sure it runs rich and strong. She is the beating of my heart. I cannot now imagine a life without her.”  ~Kristin Hannah, Summer Island

Spin Cycle: Mother

Living in the Gap

May 11, 2012 – Scents and Sensibility

The sweet smell of clover envelopes me as I run over the weeds with the lawn mower. Their tiny little crowns of fluff crumble and disappear into blades of lush green. Occasionally the sharp odor of gasoline overrides the clover aroma. The scraggly lawn quickly takes form as the fresh scent of cut grass fills the air.

Wall at Fort Monroe

Like this fortress wall we are built one stone at a time. We are cemented together with care to withstand the harshest of environments.

We are built piece by piece, each asset complimenting another.

Though we might feel as if we are missing something at times, we are each a perfect puzzle. We must remember to look inside.

We are strengthened through adversity as we learn and grow from our experiences.

We are fortified with all the ammunition we need to make it in life.

We are way more intelligent than we give ourselves credit for. We must learn to trust our instincts. Yes, instinct is just as important to living as intelligence.

We are constructed with a cornerstone of integrity. When we are honest with ourselves and others we are living from the foundation of life.

When we live enthusiastically and compassionately, we are living from the inside out.

Heart and soul, stone by stone, we are built to not only withstand life but to enjoy it moment by moment.

Living in the Gap

May 9, 2012 –Umbrella Phobia

I listen to the pounding of the rain while sipping on a cup of hot tea. Two raindrops hit the picture window and create streams which merge into one tiny river. Wylie sits in the window and watches the only action in the neighborhood, the rain. I hear the scraping of trashcan wheels against asphalt. Wylie starts barking. (Wylie almost never barks, usually it’s because she is frightened.) I look out to see my neighbor, her head shrouded by a dark dome of an umbrella. She is lifting my trash can which had tipped over in the water rolling down the gutter. I remember the first time Wylie ever growled (at nine months) was followed by the same type of sharp bark…she spotted someone walking down the street with an umbrella. My girl must still be spooked by umbrellas. Really, those dark colored ones are dreary; we need to fill the world with bright colorful umbrellas on rainy days. Maybe I’ll pull out my umbrella with a rainbow of polka dots and see if that cheers her up…always cheers me up on rainy gloomy days.

Living in the Gap

May 10, 2012 -Sun glistening upon the rain

I walk out into a world lit in sunshine this morning. Raindrops glisten across the lawn as if someone has sewn them together with a shiny silver thread. Wetness soaks through the toes of my shoes cooling my feet in the dampness. In the neighbor’s yard a single slender leaf among a clump of flowers sparkles like a crystal rod among ordinary rock.

Growing up my children never had their hair cut by anyone other than me. Now that they’ve moved out on their own they still come by for me to cut their hair. Oldest called on his way over the other day and asked if I had time to cut his hair. I replied sure and mentioned it had been a while longer between cuts and had assumed maybe he’d gotten it cut elsewhere. “No way. I’d never do that. I don’t trust anyone else with my hair.”

I thought about all the haircuts through the years I must have performed on them. Our fifteen minutes of one on one every month or so…have we used those minutes wisely? We catch up on plans, dreams, news of family, and friends.  Sometimes I’ve used those haircuts to my advantage to ask questions they always evaded; you know a chance to pin them down. I’ve cut their hair in both comfortable and awkward silence, and I’ve cut their hair through fits of laughter. We’ve bonded in our own way through years of haircuts. This is the one time I am guaranteed to have them as a captive audience. (Of course, my voice does often have to compete with text messaging these days!) I wonder how often they’ve used that time as well to talk me into something they wanted or to initiate a conversation to me about something they’ve hesitated to tell or ask me.

This brings me to how people often use FaceBook and other forums for personal agendas. As a social connection many use it for blogging and business networking. Many also have personal agendas such as activism, religion, and politics. While I find most posts interesting or entertaining, some are annoying. I don’t mind if people post links as I have the option of clicking on it or not…chances are high that I will NOT click on the link. If they post a lot of rants I don’t want to read I simply block their content from my page. It makes me wonder what purpose the random rants directed at a specific unnamed person serves. I’m talking about the ones that say things like “You know what you did to me and soon everyone else will!” Is this merely a stress release? Do they want others to know their lives are filled with drama/trauma but don’t want to say who or what? Do they post messages they are afraid to send directly to the person for whom it is referred? Or is it simply the fact that they have a captive audience for their words?

As writers we capture our audience through subject and story. Sometimes we aim for a particular audience and other times we hope for any audience at all. We spin our words to capture pictures and conjure emotion. We hope to draw people in and hold their attention for a while. What kind of an audience do you hope your words attract?

Living in the Gap

May 8, 2012 – On Wings

An airplane zips through the clouds overhead, wings invisible. I know it’s there because I hear the rumble above and see the contrail it leaves behind. Butterflies, two orange and one yellow, flitter and flutter from clover to flower blossoms to budding weeds between cobblestones. Wings open and close quickly, resembling flags flapping in the wind. A tiny blue butterfly resembles a blinking light as it drill its way through the vinca vines. A huge fly, wings folded, rests upon the rocks and then soars off with wings level to his body. A black bird gracefully glides through the sky and perches in the top of a pine tree. My wings are tucked in today as I watch the many wings in flight around me today. Are your wings currently tucked in or are you soaring the earth?

Give your stress wings and let it fly away.  ~Terri Guillemets

Ever feel deflated, like you’ve lost your bounce?

Sometimes we’re just physically exhausted. Maybe we’re overworked. Maybe we’ve played too hard.

Other times we’re emotionally taxed out. We’ve worried too much or we’ve spread ourselves thin.

When I get like this I remind myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I focus on everything around me…the temperature, the sounds, the scents… I take it all in. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I feel gratitude sweep over me as I am filled with the blessings of life. When I open my eyes I feel refreshed.

Take time to refresh and enjoy your life.

Living in the Gap

May 5, 2012 – Teasing the birds

I have a book that plays bird songs. I push the button for a sparrow song, a cardinal call, a robin tweet, and various other bird sounds. Two song sparrows fly near and peck about the ground. A single cardinal swoops low and settles on the fence and sings back. Each time I hit the button a birds answers. The cardinal seems particularly interested as he keeps repositioning himself about the yard. Finally he perches in the top of a neighbor’s cypress and he sings back and forth with the book.

Living in the Gap

May 6, 2012 – The Invitation

We are on a photo excursion inNorfolk. We are taking pics of the Navy ships and old churches. While waiting for DirtMan to finish a shoot I am admiring the gardens of what appears to be a historic home. As I am reading the sign that states it is the ‘Moses Myers House, 1792’, a gentleman pokes his head out the front door. “When you’re finished, come on in for a tour. We’re free.” Now, who can turn down free? I mean for history lovers like us this is an offer we can’t refuse. The house tour and history lesson are the highlight of our day! Sometimes life’s pleasures are simple and unexpected. (More to follow on this later…)

Living in the Gap

May 7, 2012 – Wylie, the watchdog

Wylie chases the squirrels away from the birdfeeders and settles herself in the yard. Thought they are too quick for her to catch, her presence intimidates them. They remain at a distance across the yard or too high for her to reach. She seems content to lounge in the clover and watch the birds eat…

Painting hearts in skies

where colors and life collide

and the best shines through

 Sunsets of our lives

reflect upon the waters

where goodness resides

Living in the Gap

April 28, 2012 – Night Shower

A rumble from the sky travels through the dark room. A few short flashes of light follow its path. The clouds slowly spill upon the roof. The pounding of the downpour drowns out the sounds of the night. Plop. Plop. Plop. I roll in the shadows and drift off into the pitter patter of rain.

Living in the Gap

April 29, 2012 – Expressing Emotion

Beneath furrowed brows stony eyes pierce the wall as if it can somehow bring understanding to the thought within. Cheeks hollow as lips purse in shared compassion. Deep laughter from another room brings a twinkle to eyes and smiles on faces…a reminder of youth and life’s abundant blessings.

Living in the Gap

April 30, 2012 – Silence in the Morning

Seconds float into minutes as silence passes over the shadows across the window blinds. Breath washes through me and spills into the shaded room. No voices in the house or tweeting birds outside. I hear only the whisper of my own breath, the ebb and flow of life.

Living in the Gap

May 1, 2012 – Gerber Daisies

Like rays of sunlight, petals of crimson, fuchsia, gold, and burnt orange stretch to warm the world. Shadows shift as light glints through the display of color. Wind bends the flowers to create a sunset sky in the flower garden.

Living in the Gap

May 2, 2012 – Voice of Familiarity

Words soften and speak at the right moments and pause when necessary. Words are not carefully planned out, but instinctively reach out and touch the heart like a hug through the telephone. Mamas not only know how to speak without saying a word but how to love you in a way no one else can.

Living in the Gap

May 3, 2012 – Red tailed Squirrels

Red tailed squirrel, photo by DirtMan Images

I open the door to scare away the squirrel on the birdfeeder. Four squirrels hidden in the vinca vines scatter across the yard and onto the pine trees. Bark flies across the lawn as the scurrying nails rip their way up the tree. One flattens itself as it as it glides through the air to another tree; its red tail waving like a sail. Another one flutters over the roof of the shed with its strawberry blond tail whipping in the wind like a flag on a pole.

Living in the Gap

May 4, 2012 – Japanese Maple

As the leaves bow they appear almost black and as the wind lifts them skyward they glow a brilliant scarlet. Sunlight trickles through the limbs of a large tree overhead and dances across the shadowed leaves thus rising the green within to the surface. Gusts of wind play the leaves up and down like the keys of a piano… soft music follows its movements.

“Kind words are a creative force, a power that concurs in the building up of all that is good, and energy that showers blessings upon the world.” ~ Lawrence G. Lovasik

We communicate primarily through words. We are responsible for our words, spoken or written, so we mustn’t take the words we use to express ourselves lightly. Not only do we need to choose our words wisely but we must consider the tone in which we speak them. Emphasis on any particular word in a sentence can change the meaning entirely for the person who is listening.

We speak (or write) because we want to be heard. However, everything we wish to say does not need to be heard. Sometimes we simply need a release. This is where the healing power of writing and discernment come in. We get what we need to say out, but no one needs to read it. It’s kind of like not publishing everything we write on our blogs.

We speak with our voices and our hands. We talk. We sing. We wave about. Self expression is the gift of life. Predominantly we use our words. Our major gift to the world is our art whether it is a work of words, a string of music, carved wood, chiseled rock, a conglomeration of brush strokes, or stitches and fabric… We have the ability to touch others when we are unable to convey our feelings in words.

The means of self expression is probably why I love the Blues so much. The Blues are almost primitive so to speak. When there were no words to say what one was feeling, he/she uttered and moaned. They shared their pain, and others empathized. Music moves us. With and without words, it can bring us to our knees or lift us in the air.

Words can make or break a soul. How often do we speak before we think? How many feelings have we hurt because of it? How many times have we been recipients of the same infraction? How often have rumors or misunderstandings harmed relationships in your life? Most of us are right where we are in life due to the journey of words. Inspiring or crippling, words embark us on our journey of life. And there are always words left unsaid in every life that could have changed the course of events. If you have a loving or kind word to share don’t keep it to yourself.

Words carry weight and bear fruit. Yes, every word is capable of bringing about a response. It can be a negative consequence or it can be the birth of better things. Let your voice be a bearer of good fruit.

Words are powerful. Words can hurt or heal. Words can manipulate or encourage. The choice is ours. We can choose to use our words to build one another up. We can instill confidence and inspire others through our speech. We have the power of love and harmony in our hearts and mouths. We can choose to use the energy of words to bless humanity. We can heal the world one word at a time. Yes, we can…and it starts with each one of us.

Spin Cycle: Words

My soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Though we live “at the beach” we don’t live right by the ocean. When we go to the beach it is usually to the non-commercialized areas or off season. We decided to head to the beach for an impromptu photo shoot before tourist season kicks in. DirtMan wanted to fiddle with some time lapse and HDR photography. I merely wanted to feed my soul with sand and surf and do a bit of amateur photography.

We hit 31^st Street at the Boardwalk. We are greeted by King Neptune who by the look on his face seemed to be asking all “and you think you’re going to date my daughter?”

This is one of the few places in Virginia palm trees thrive.

The Boardwalk is alive with shoppers, skaters, bicyclists, and walkers. Kids romp and squeal. Couples snuggle. Friends laugh over drinks at the outdoor cafes. Families enjoy quality time.

Hotels stretch as far as the eyes can see in both directions. DirtMan and I look and listen. We absorb the atmosphere and capture what we can with our cameras. We take the time to sink our feet into the wet sand and let the salt water and air seep into our veins. The ocean invigorates us to life as we watch the world in awe.

The old and young alike seek the sea for their own reasons.

I sneak in a few shots of DirtMan “doing his thing”. I take over a hundred shots of sea and sky so it is difficult narrowing it down to ten to share. It is a gorgeous evening. The temperature is in the eighties with the clouds displaying a brilliant show of color and design at dusk.

The roar of the waves and sizzle as the they crash and spread upon the shore mesmerizes and comforts. The beauty and power of nature is beyond words.

Radiance of bright orange fills the sky as the sun sets just beyond the hotels.

We leave the water’s edge long enough to take in the sunset as pink, yellow, and orange swirl and blend into a sky of blue and clouds of gray and white. The Artist’s canvas is a pure delight to our eyes and cameras!

The glow of color in the clouds illuminates the water.

If you look closely at the clouds in this picture you’ll see King Neptune’s very own shadow of clouds! Seriously, it does appear to be his silhouette.

In every curving beach, in every grain of sand there is the story of the earth. ~Rachel Carson

****In case you’re wondering where my “Living in the Gap” is this week…I will post the entire week’s worth on Friday.