Paint Box – yellow

Recently a writing prompt surfaced in an old journal and drew me in again – Color.

I find that the spring light makes color more vibrant, more uplifting to my soul.

If you had asked me about yellow, well, at first I wouldn’t have much to say except it is a cheerful color. But reflection tells me it is woven through my adult life – a favorite dress in soft yellow, then yellow gingham curtains and yellow walls in a baby’s room, a fun yellow car, bouquets of dandelions in a chubby fist, a yellow bike, vintage yellow crocks in the kitchen… a touch here and there.

The yellows of early spring glow. More memories glow too: puckery lemons with peppermint stick straws at the Flower Mart in Baltimore, Mom’s lemon meringue pies with toasty brown peaks atop creamy fillings – best fresh from the oven… Do you have memories in yellow? Do they bring happy smiles to your face now?

Winged news

The hummingbirds are back in town. I had great viewing of “Sit & Sip”. This photo is from her old album!

This time of year the chores are never ending. I try to pace myself through the gardens and wild spaces by plant emergence. I rounded the corner one morning and was shocked to find this mess:

Just a stumpy piece of wood sitting in the garden. I wondered… and today, I know for sure.

Pileated Woodpecker. Somehow I deleted the best photo of this amazing bird, but I’ll be on the watch now. We have a number of rotting stumps and slices from past tree removal so I know it will be back; I hope I’ll be ready for the photo op!

The work progresses:

Paint Box – Greens

Spring explodes like a paint box come to life; spilling across the browned winter weary landscape. First, the greens come.

I recently learned a new word. Viriditas. My high school Latin teacher would be amazed! Viriditas means “greenness” – vitality, lushness, verdure, fecundity, growth. I am grateful to Mandy for sharing this word and its connection to Abbess Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179). It seems a perfect expression of the living green captured by the soul as the light dances over grass and leaf life.

He makes me lie down in green pastures… He restores my soul.

Brief magnificence

Sweet, gentle spring unfurling

This year, spring came like a dainty fairy from a children’s storybook. In my own story, I am like a plodding Mrs. McGregor raking leaves and twigs, pruning, tidying beds, cleaning bird houses, filling the birdbath and feeders. Meanwhile, the tiny sprite stirs wrens to sing, tufted titmice to flutter in the bath. bluebirds to dash about the yard and golden finch to chatter in excitement at the feeder.

There is soft warming air to breathe and I take joy in finding tiny gifts of spring: violets, mosses, greening grass and the ever lovely daffodils.

And softly stirs a bit of Mother Goose, “Daffy-down-dilly has come up to town,
In a yellow petticoat and a green gown.”

And that day ended in blue all around.

Country gold

Heavy weighted fog pressed down, but along the roads and parking lots, there were golden bells proclaiming spring! I captured these if full ring outside the library.

Inside, I captured Melissa Michael’s new book and Karen Kingsbury’s too. At home Jeff Goins new book had arrived!

A bounty of riches waits on my table, urging me on through my work sessions, teasing me with promise of inspiration, fresh insights and ponderings.

I have followed Melissa and Jeff on their blogs for a number of years. And while I don’t read much fiction, I do enjoy Karen Kingsbury. Her new series, Angels Walking, is compelling. This is book two. Now for some long quiet evenings!

During the longest, coldest winter, I sorted through my sewing and crafting things like a squirrel in semi-hibernation turning over her cache of nuts and acorns looking for choice specimens to savor. While at first it was almost a sad endeavor, I now feel the freshness in it. Encouraged by the writing of Bonnie Grey, Cheri Gregory and Kathy Lipp, I came to see that my stash had actually become a hindrance to creativity and productivity.

Cheri had a great post that helped me. Projects get interrupted in my life and when I go back to them, sometimes I couldn’t figure out where I has stopped and what I should do next. My notes, if any, where like a code I couldn’t crack. And so I would set them aside, again. Procrastination. Frustration.

After reading her post, I went through my supplies and created a small collection of future projects and wrote out my plan for each in as much detail as I could. If I didn’t have a plan, I chose not to keep it. I freed myself of leftovers from past quilting projects and other crafts this way too. And the good news? I have actually been sewing again! I’m finishing things, and fluffing the guest room. Projects seem fresh and exciting. And more good news – I’ve found a place to gift the overflow, investing in the creative lives of young women. This makes me smile, big!

The plans? Itemized and amplified to included any other needed items; typed, saved, printed! No little scraps of paper written in mysterious code!

He is Risen!

Glorious now behold Him arise; King and God and sacrifice:

Alleluia, Alleluia sounds through the earth and skies!

John H Hopkins, Jr. – We Three Kings

He is risen indeed!

Blessings to you and all those you hold dear this Easter!

To sparkle

I drink in the beauty long delayed and so welcomed. No matter the time of day, these lily-like flowers enchant. Life locked in bulbs with a mysterious time clock – leaf, bloom, rest – go round the seasons.

I’m honored that my minor contributions to their wellbeing allow the cycle to continue and they flourish. The name Amaryllis means “to sparkle”.

Outside, the same clock of life ticks. Green leaves push hard through frozen ground, leaf litter, snow and ice.

And morning surprises with snowdrops seeded into lawn and weed patch – nature’s seed time and harvest continues. In the gentle rhythm of seasons, the light of life can shine deeply into dark and hidden places. In prepared soil or hostile environment, in tender care or neglect, snowdrops grow and bloom.

I’m observing lessons of both hope and warning to consider what is growing in the soil of my life and heart. Today, I choose hope for myself – to see in these blooms a willingness to embrace life, the new thing springing forth even in what seems to be wilderness. Choosing life, growing in obedience to Creator God, persevering as from a seed growing through harshness of soil, sometimes bitter cold, flood or drought and even life’s mowing seasons and on to maturity, bringing forth beauty to delight the soul of another whether or not they understand my name or words or calling. Perhaps then I would sparkle too.

Spring cleaning

Yesterday was lovely. The ground is still frozen under the inch or so of muddiness, so I needed to walk slowly while I tidied up on my walk. All the better to see.

Then last night, March began tossing every branch of tree and bush; shaking off winter, stirring buds, and no doubt howling “Spring!”, into the very roots.

I feel it too and rush about dusting and clearing away, yearning to throw open the doors. Soon.

Ruby glory

It’s been a long wait. Summering on the back porch, resting in the garage through fall, re-potted at Thanksgiving…waiting…hardly a green tip for Christmas…

Jan 9 Feb 16 Mar 7

Two pots; the first to show green will be opening in the next day or so. This one had another stalk which will open in a few days. An abundance of richness was forming slowly, so slowly this year.

I don’t know if you love houseplants; I’m really not the best caretaker, but on long wintery days I love sitting in the dining room with living green while the earth outside still hides its treasure.

While the temperatures outside have been moderating, the snow and ice accumulation this winter was such that the reservoir has been frozen over. I could not resist the drive early last week.

I’m sure we all hope that winter is truly over and the first day of spring will bring in a long and lovely new season. These last days we have had rain and fog and now wind howls about drying the surface of things. Tomorrow, the ground should be firm enough that I can look for the Lenten roses. I optimistically freed them from their thick overcoat of oak leaves the beginning of February at the suggestion of the garden columnist. I have hoped that the blanket of snow has kept them safe. Are you hunting for signs of spring too?