Deep in the heart of Texas lived a little girl, who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead. She ran barefoot in the fields, day after day, until the bottoms of her feet were black! She spun round and round til she fell to the ground, and face turned upward staring at the clouds she dreamt outrageous dreams. When she grew up she fell in love…and decided to move to Ireland!
I woke up today feeling like a Picasso painting; except I didn’t. I didn’t wake up feeling disjointed and turned sideways, though I did video the morning bird song with a sideways angle to the camera, so that playback makes you feel you are slipping ever so slowly off the earth…or that the earth suddenly shrank and you see its curve turning, turning, turning.
No, I woke up feeling like a Monet painting. The tiny dots and strokes of paint, each day of my life, which up close and in the moment seem to be only dots and strokes. Though when you step back…and view them from a different perspective, you see they make up a beautiful scene. Intricate in detail and awash with color and grace. Such is life.
The grace to retain this knowing and remind yourself daily to step back. Look at things from a larger perspective and see the tapestry of color and pattern that each breath is creating. Easier said than done!
You know…as much as I don’t want to feel like a Picasso, it would be interesting to feel like a Kahlo! Vivid, in your face, and profane! 
Like a Wild Woman running barefoot screaming her name on the wind. That would be LIFE - to feel it pulsing inside in an explosion of passion, tears, anger, joy!
Still, I did wake up feeling like a Monet. With gentle color and brush strokes, engaged in – oh, so refined and delicate activity; sitting on the window seat listening to morning bird song while I sipped my tea. Hmm
With all the mind-is-unified-field-bells-theorem running in my head, perhaps I aught to engage in a little Kahlo-esque activity as I go for that walk later. Living Out LOUD seems to fit with this deep pondering!
…it’s just around the corner! :fingers crossed:
It still amazes me how in touch I am with the seasons here. No make-believe, no pretending, no looking at the calendar to convince myself of the turning. The change in season is on my list of thins I appreciate most about living here. Back home in Texas we have “weather”, not seasons. Unless you count burning in “hell” or freezing as seasons. To be fair, the weather in Austin in glorious most times of the year except summer (June-September) when the sun tries to scorch you. There can be cold winter days, even down to 0 Celsius, but they don’t last and its usually sunny and mild (think 15 degrees!). But you don’t get the pleasure of having survived the dark, dreary winter, which propels you to anticipate spring and summer in a way I never have.
We go for a walk down our lane most days. The tiny road runs along the upper ridge, is low traffic, and the views out over the valley and abandoned Demesne are spectacular. Yesterday morning it was brilliantly sunny, though crisp, and my heart was filled with gladness at the yellow flowers on the gorse and the song of the little birds! I haven’t noticed them during the winter, but their chatter has gladdened my heart over the past several days as I hear them more and more.
A tiny Robin alighted on a bush as we walked past, singing her sweet song, and I thanked her; telling her how beautiful she was. She sang back and I told her there were bread crumbs out at our house that she was very welcome to! She sang and watched us go by. We chatted to the neighbors, who were out working on their gardens in the fine weather. I discovered a little of the history of our house and learned that our own front garden was about to become a magical place, designed for perfect spring revelry.
It seems Mr. Twomey, or his mother, planted an entire front garden of bulbs. Their green shoots have already emerged and the tender snowdrops have given their show. Now we await the glorious first chorus. We were told that the house was already abandoned in the early seventies. Mr. Twomey, a bachelor farmer, was the last occupant and 30 in 1911. This left the house silent and alone for many years before being purchased by the Bailey’s in the late 90′s. Our neighbor, who spent her childhood on this lane, told of her own delight at peeking into the neglected garden each spring. The beauty and romance of the forgotten house with its Secret Garden and old wooden stairs….
Romantic, isn’t it?
It’s the little things in life. Seriously!
A trip to Midleton was planned for the day; Himself needed to collect some files and I, dear readers, was in need of a treat. I try to hold out for Saturday when we shop at the Midleton Farmers Market. There, I queue up with everyone else in town and wait my turn for a mocha from O’ Conaill’s Chocolates. But it’s been cloudy, rainy, and I’ve had a three day bout of S.A.D. so I tagged along for the trek to Midleton and a visit to Farmgate, for my treat!
You can grab a Mocha for take-away for only one euro fifty! Seriously!! And they are DE-licious!
And of course, while you’re waiting for the other half to finish business, it is necessary to check-out any sales. Wouldn’t you know it? O’dwyer Shoes has a 50% off sale!! The absolutely cutest pair of Portuguese boots were calling to me! I think they would make a super birthday or early valentine gift. ::hint, hint::
A delightful Wednesday was had by all…. I got my treat (He got one, too) and I found something for Him to spend his money on! 
I bought some seeds today!! Beautiful flower seeds, and tomorrow I will fill my little pots and set them out to sprout in a warm window. I couldn’t help myself. Geranium, Lupin, Lobelia, Salvia…. yum.
Also today was my Imbolc milk bath. I had a lovely flower petal and milk Bath Bomb ready for the occasion. The candles lit, the Bulmers cold, the water hot and as long as I wanted to soak in peace and tranquility.
Ah….. I’m now officially ready for spring!
hearth and home
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