Everything changes

It's a constant process -- trying to figure out where you are, trying to decide where you are going and the best way to get there. I miss writing here, but a lack of clarity about my purpose and direction have left me wondering what to write about, how much to say. I have mixed feelings now about what I've been sharing and with whom; I know from my journeys in blogland that this is a common enough struggle but the weight of it hadn't quite hit me before.

In the meantime, I am adoring the feeling of summer's beginning. I'm not tired of sunshine nor of birdsong and only wish for more strains of music from ice cream trucks. I am tired of firecrackers at all hours on any given night, but that's not dimming my enthusiasm overall very much. I'm making lists and researching festivals and hoping to squeeze out every drop from these long days (work notwithstanding).

Doesn't take much

I stopped planted tulips in my garden; they are not reliable for me at all. Not like daffodils, which bloom prolifically and spread each year. I don't know if tulip bulbs get eaten up by the chipmunks or squirrels, or if there's some condition in the soil or environment that doesn't give them what they need.

So it is truly astonishing when a tulip does suddenly appear. This bulb had to have been planted years and years and years ago. I don't get too excited when I sometimes see the leaves of a tulip emerge; often enough that's all I get when I get anything at all.

But this beauty held on and took our breath away. It started as a cream white then the blush of pink slowly spread, and it calls me to spend more time in the garden again.

It's all around me

How breathtakingly beautiful each day is. How grateful I am for the moments I can truly feel that. I've been thinking a lot lately about so many things -- where I'm headed, what I'd most like to be doing, how to allow myself time to be creative, what's important to write about and share, and how I can reconcile that list with where I am right now.

The opportunities and joys are all here, right now. I just need to recognize and seize them.

A little break

I'm going to take a little blogging break. Nothing's wrong, no deep philosophical musings afoot -- just feeling the need to spend free time doing other things for a while. Back in a bit!

The song of joy

Dean and I heard the wood frogs today for the first time this season!

Their song is surprising; for years I mistook it for bird song.

Winter must finally be read to head south. I'll wave goodbye to her as she goes to visit my friends in Australia and Tasmania and other parts down under.

Happy 13th!

Every single birthday, every single year, has been special and significant. That feeling grows with time -- it doesn't diminish, even if just a few of the outward trappings seem to become a little more low-key.

You have a smile that's easy, ready, and warm. Your eyes twinkle when you smile.

You care deeply about the people who are important to you.

You are kind, your heart is big and generous, and you can forgive.

You are curious, eager to learn, and willing to try.

You have a terrific sense of humor and you are willing to laugh at yourself.

It is a joy to hear you play the piano; you have a real gift.

You are interested in the world -- in people, places, ideas.

You love animals and it leads you to be knowledgeable about them, and willing to work hard on their behalf.

You love to play soccer and you put your speed, grace, and agility to such good use on the field.

As athletic as you are, you are also a true sportsman; you work hard to win but accept defeat graciously and are willing to put the feelings of others ahead of your desire to win.

You are terrific at figuring things out, at solving problems, at remembering.

You are a collector; you love to start, build, and care for collections.

You are a great friend, and people like being around you.

I love you, Dean, and I will always treasure this anniversary of meeting you, of having you join me here on this journey.

Textured Thursday

Good cop, bad cop

Things have been difficult here lately -- nothing earth-shattering, nothing about my own little family, just enough to leave me a bit drained. Hoping, in fact planning, to make a spectacular comeback this week.

May your own week be spectacular, safe, and sunny.

A day late, a dollar short

Just the way we roll.

A textured Thursday

With a touch of green, to boot!

Prayers, hope, and help to the people of Japan and those in the path of the aftermath.

Pinch me.

A little over a year ago, I was contact by someone on behalf of Lark Press. She'd found one of my ABC Along photographs on Flickr and wrote to see if I'd be interested in submitting it for possible publication in an upcoming book.

Sure I'd be interested! She encouraged me to submit any other photos of letter forms I'd taken, and so I carefully put together a package. Literally tied it with a bow.

And then at some point gave up hope, having heard nothing. Well, I told myself, they probably contacted hundreds of people. I chided myself for having gotten so whipped up about it in the first place.

Today I received an email that I *almost* didn't open, but it sounded vaguely enough familiar that I did open it, to learn that indeed I had been selected. Oh Joy! And then, to open the preview image of the cover and see that there, right on the cover, is my very own letter "D."

Can you believe it? I cannot believe it.

It comes out in May.

If it weren't for blogging, and for Vicki's project, this never would have happened.

A textured Thursday

Memory

Without any great sense of purpose or schedule, I've been slowly, erratically working my way through the few boxes of my mother's things that have landed here with me.

Just now, I came across this photograph -- me, at about age 8 or so? -- taken at the beach that was in walking distance from our house. We spent too many summer days there to count, cooling off and rinsing off sand on the way home by walking through the sprinklers set up to give little city patches of grass some relief from the summer sun.

I don't remember ever seeing this photo before. My parents, both photographers, were very casual with drawers full of photos primarily taken by my mom with the film developed and the photos printed by my dad. This one is, so typically, just a contact proof, printed by laying the negative right on top of the photo paper. Not chosen to be printed individually, not balanced for exposure, not even with all the dust blown off (I've cleaned it up in PS just a little).

It makes me smile to think that spring is coming, and after that, summer. Maybe we'll get to the beach this year.