Unfolding

This tree on Viewmont had me worried. I thought is was dead. Not only did it look very odd over the winter months (To Leave or Not to Leave post) with the top of the tree bare of leaves and the lower half adorned with crispy, dead, brown leaves but, until last week this tree was still "wintered". Leaves from last year clung mightily to the lower branches despite wind, rain, and other inclement forces. I've been watching closely in my daily drive along Viewmont hoping hoping to catch some signs of life from this mature beauty. She has not disappointed; the shriveled brown leaves surrendered to the push of new buds in the last week. She is very much alive; the unfolding will continue until the young green of spring matures into the rich green of summer.


Difficult to appreciate from this photograph, buds are sprouting slowly but compared to the same tree photographed in January, the progress is more obvious. That I'm paying attention to this is not new. But that I write about what I see and document with photographs is new. The process is richly rewarding although I yearn to discover where this is leading me.

Greening Out

I hope you enjoy these photographs of the cyclical change of this "kidney tree" as Winter unfolds into Spring. I will be sure to follow the magic this autumn as bare branches of vascular skeleton reveal themselves once again. I take comfort in changes with pattern and predictability. Here, natural rhythms provide a comforting embrace unlike the nerve jangling, "irregularly irregular" states of (human) living.

Cat OUT--Cat IN

Here's how we keep track of the cat around here......

Is he out? Or, is he in?

These photos are copied off the computer onto 8.5 x 11 paper, taped back to back and hung by a rubber band on our dry erase board in the kitchen. We flip the "sign" around whenever he goes in or out. The cat makes us laugh and this little routine does too. Maybe we have too much time on our hands. But, I'd say it's our way of extracting a bit of humor and joy from our days. It's easier than yelling upstairs "is the cat in or out?" And who doesn't like to flip over a card on a message board?

P.S. On my way to work today, I realized that another reason why we do this is because it is clean (no rough edges, vagaries, shades of grey, or controversy). The cat is either IN or he is OUT. The task is simple and easy to do well, unlike so much else in life right now where there are no right answers and only more and more questions. That's also the reason why I like to empty my paper recycling into the narrow mouthed bin at work, sheet by sheet. It's a job I do well every time and once it is done, it is done.

Nonagenarians

Yesterday was a gorgeous day in Seattle, a stark contrast to the constant rain that fell from a grey sky all of Saturday. We enjoyed highs in the 60's, dry, sunny weather permeated by that young green of deciduous trees. Only a few lone trees wait to sprout out with leaves; bareness is the exception these days. Blooming trees and shrubs are everywhere.

Yesterday was special because Mom and I attended a luncheon in honor of Rosemary, a dear friend who turned 90 years old this week. Her two daughters threw a great party for her with family, old friends, and new friends (like Mom who met her at Merrill Gardens last year) at a local restaurant on lower Queen Anne. No gifts; only a donation to a local food bank if we were so inspired. Rosemary is an amazing woman whose down-to-earth style, humor, and personality attract attention immediately. Her kindness towards Mom and Dad was obvious as she took them under her wing at MG, ate lunch with them on countless occasions and enjoyed afternoon tea and cookies on many an afternoon. She also escorted Mom down to the corner QFC supermarket last August to buy me my birthday cake. That was a feat and one that Rosemary reminded me of at the event; the cake was quite heavy and the journey longer than they anticipated, especially with Mom's walker and a slight uphill climb on the return.

I'm grateful to have had this special outing with Mom yesterday; for the ride to and from the restaurant with the brilliant blue sky accenting the lushness of an early spring day and for the occasion itself. Our elders are precious and we are honored to celebrate their birthdays. Acknowledging all of their wisdom and witnessing all that have accomplished and all they continue to offer the world is nothing less than astounding. Mom, Dad, Rosemary and all the other nonagenarians stand on a pedestal in my mind. What an accomplishment! We younger ones have only to look into their eyes to recognize the mystery of life imprinted in their faces.

I enjoyed looking at Rosemary's photographs that chronicled her life from the time she was a young girl through to her 90th Birthday. Congratulations!

Blogging for Dummies

Nine months into my blogging obsession, I picked up a book at the library in the "for Dummies" series entitled Blogging for Dummies. Wow. It's great and seems very up to date, already in its second edition with a publication date in 2008. Like travel guides, I figure the more recently published the better since advice changes constantly. This book has my name all over it; written for people who don't really understand how all this URL, RSS site feed, pings, linkbacks, widget and chicklet stuff works. Susannah Gardner and Shane Birley break it down into digestible pieces and already I've been able to (as some would say) "pimp out" my site to reflect what I've learned. Fun indeed.

I've also learned some great, practical advice from Jeremy Neal at his blog site, Lead Inspectors on how to become a better blogger.

Am I having fun with all of this? Absolutely. Where will it go? I know not.

The Truth of it is....

I've given the content of this post quite a bit of brain power (it has been swirling in my head for months) but am not entirely sure that with all this cogitating, the piece will ever get written unless I just type away. Now. Existing in nascent form, I've attempted to create some excitement (even humor) around the topic but it just sits. Meanwhile, I'm compelled to blog about this fundamental driving force in my life. What is it that gets me moving in the morning so that I can dance, step or plod through the day, whatever the case may be? My day might be delightful in all regards, ludicrously wicked or somewhere in between but the driving force is always the same.

Have I created enough of a wave to get some interest going? Fearful that I will disappoint with the meagerness of my truth, I'll just throw it out there anyway.

Every new day of my life, I wake and roll out of bed, seeking first the cup of coffee that will jump start the journey. Every step I take between that first moment out of bed and the moment when I surrender again to the sheets is (hopefully) accomplished with intention and purpose. But, and this is the big but[t], the fuel that moves those feet in forward motion, the energy that carries me from location to location, the catalyst for the voice that communicates endlessly by spoken and written word derives from the realization that I'm moving closer to the prize, that precious moment when I will land up in that bed again, horizontal, quiet, and finished if only for the briefest of times. It's all about getting back to the prize.

There, I said it. My truth. I once heard someone very close to me tell 30 years ago that she lived a similar truth; maybe she still does. If she reads this, maybe she can comment on whether this "truth" changes over time or is a permanent fixture. It's not that it embarrasses me; on the contrary. The work I do between foot on floor in motion and foot turning into bed at night is done with great passion on some days, reluctant acceptance on some days, and only on a few days polluted by down-in-the-dirt resentment. But, IT gets done and for that I'm grateful.

Right now, as I write this post, I'm making a wish list and a to do list for the day that lies ahead. But what propels me forward is the deep knowing that the reward will come when I'm horizontal again. Eckhart Tolle (The Power of Now and A New Earth) would say that I'm missing out on the only moment we ever have which is "now". Perhaps yes, perhaps no. I'm still thinking of the bed and just can't help it.

Balanced Response

His response to her musings yesterday about a "little Christmas Choir" was thoughtful.

I paraphrase:

"It's your decision. It would be hard to stand up and conduct. That takes a lot of energy. Would you use your three wheeler? It's only the end of April; you have a lot of time to think about it."

Dreams. What happens if and when we lose them?