Time to Step Back and Breathe

I find it so easy to get caught up in the stress of day-to-day activity: bills to pay, appointments to keep, work to do, and emergencies that pop up out of nowhere.  The oppressive heat of summer weighs down so heavy that I feel like an apple that has had all the sweetness squeezed out--my spirit can feel rather dry and I become a bit crusty and curt in my responses.

I need to step away from it all occasionally and regain some perspective.  The beauty of the outdoors helps to provide a difference; a new point of vision can change my point of view.  Elizabeth Barrett Browning said it well:

The Little Cares

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The little cares that fretted me,
I lost them yesterday
Among the fields above the sea,
Among the winds at play;
Among the lowing of the herds,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what may happen--
I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass,
Among the new-mown hay;
Among the husking of the corn
Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born,
Out in the fields with God.

Summer Sea Thoughts

 A few random thoughts and a nice couple of poem links:

I wonder just what it is about water that is so compelling?  Source of life, refreshment, deep blue beauty--of course all of those, but somehow more.  I was always getting into puddles and streams even as a toddler, always drawn to the water and longing to be near it.  I don't live at the beach or even by a stream, river or lake, but none of those are very far away, and would dearly love to live beside a body of water someday.  For now, my little pond and fountain are a solace.

Like John Masefield, I must go down to the sea every so often, but I don't need a tall ship--much as I love them--just walking along the shore is enough for me. The echoes of the ocean waves, drawing in and out, are not as bleak as Matthew Arnold's musings may have made them, but they do indeed resonate with the soul.  Few things are as restorative to me as a walk along the seaside.

What resonates with you for a restorative summer's moment?

Joy of New Beginnings

The dear friend of my heart, close to me since we were in Brownies together at six years old, has just remarried.  That in itself is not remarkable--many people lose a spouse to divorce or death, and find love again and start again, but her situation hit me hard since we were so close.  Her first husband left saying he needed to find himself--and of course, what he was finding was his way to another woman's bed, the usual case with that particularly lame excuse.

I heard her grief and wept my own tears for her loss.  She wondered if she could ever trust a man again, ever start her life with someone else again, especially after looking and not finding anyone that matched well with her.  She used the right methods, mind you, even the computer match ups that were supposed to be so darned fail proof that you'd find lots of compatible guys.  Uh-uh.

Then God basically just dropped a deeply good  man in her lap, I think partly just because she had worked and prayed so hard for him, and God honored that.

I was blessed to be, for the second time, her matron of honor last weekend, and I took this photo of their hands: it says it all.   They are not the smooth young hands of a fresh young couple who are starry-eyed and unaware of all the road hazards ahead; these are the hands of two people who have worked hard, loved hard, and lived well for many years, and now are taking the big leap of faith once again with each other.

How very, very wonderful such things are!

Summer's a Comin'

Still have grading to get done (not quite finished wearing my teacher hat), but want that done, too, so just like when I was a kid, I can truly feel like SCHOOL'S OUT!

Even though I have plenty of other work to do, there is always a sigh of relief when academic pressures abate for a time, making space to read what one wants to read under the trees, preferably with a view from a hammock.

I just read another in the series of Alexander McCall Smith's Isabel Dalhousie stories--what a delight. It makes me feel like I've taken what the Brits call a mini-break to Edinburgh, just as his No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency series takes me to Botswana. If I cannot manage the real vacations just now, these novel-bound mini breaks are just the thing to make summer feel like summer should: an escape from the ordinary, a trip, a journey, an adventure.

Getting the Blog Up

I have been wanting to get this blog up for so long, craving it like chocolate...and finally it seems to be working: hurrah! I wanted a place to put pictures and thoughts that are sometimes longer than will easily work on Facebook or in my shop site, so this is a perfect alternative. The little prickles of life, like the cactus we saw today, make it hard to get important things done, but when one does, they bloom right through the sharpest of stings that life can provide.

Today was a good day, a Huntington Library day--for me, if not the "happiest place on earth," definitely one of the top ten. Or top 100. Okay, top local, for sure! It sustains me with its beauty and riches of art, literature, and gardens, a treasure chest of delights.

The photo above is the famous "Big Stinky" plant that was in full bloom today, the Amorphophallus titanum, also known as the "Corpse flower" for its "unusual," to say the least, ummm, "fragrance." Now is the time to go see it in all its glory. The original bloomed in 1999; there was another last year or so; I think this is another "Son of Stinky" (of the original bloomer in '99)--not as gigantic as that one, but still rather splendid and well worth a look. If you get there, Stinky resides in the big glass conservatory; follow the signs. If you want a refreshing change from stinkiness, open the doors to the left of the center area and you'll immediately encounter a huge Michelia alba tree with the most heavenly smelling flower you can imagine.

Outside the back doors of the conservatory is the children's garden, where you also find sweet magnolia in bloom: small enough trees where you can actually put your face into a flower and soak up the fragrance, a joy of June that is usually far out of reach, high up in the branches of the big trees.