Happy birthday, sweetheart!
Happy birthday, sweetheart!
Perhaps I’m more easily discouraged than others.
Momentum is everything for me. If I can get up a head of steam, I can get anything done and make anything work. But if I run into a long enough stream of small obstacles, my forward motion can grind to a halt and getting anything going again comes to feel impossible.
I know: try, try again. But what I wouldn’t give for a string of small successes—heck I’d settle for things just not going awry for a few weeks straight. So I could get the mojo working again, so that I could feel that my efforts stand a chance of amounting to something.
I hate feeling so worn down. This is not the way I’m supposed to be. I want to reclaim my native optimism and energy.
A Year Ago: Dance Like No One’s Watching…
Sunshine and good company are a big help.
My mood is pretty messed up, and I’m feeling kinda ropey physically. It’s not a great combination. I’m experiencing the transition to the warmth and growth of Spring as somehow a painful process this season
The anniversary of my emergency appendectomy came and went. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year already.
My yard is becoming lush. It’s incredibly beautiful—the violet carpet of pansies, bright yellow dandelions, and a variety of tiny little blue and white flowers. The aging tree in the center of the property has put out a delicate tracery of new leaves. The poplar, oak, and black walnuts have yet to leaf. Of the 21 saplings I planted, I think maybe a handful will take and flourish.
The Great Bramble War of 2014 continues in a series of brutal skirmishes, in which I wrestle long, thick ropes of networked roots out of the ground and yet there are always more. And there are thorns.
My first-ever posting of an advertisement. If I’m going to let someone hawk their wares on my blog you know it’s something beautiful indeed.
Not what you were expecting, maybe.
I am grateful for the fabulous warm, sunny weather we’ve had for the last few days. It illuminates everything and makes even the mess of urban construction glow.
In the 70s today, immaculate sky.
The kitty and I meander around the yard enjoying the sunshine and the warm breezes. Really, there’s nothing wrong with it at all, and even the the bleeding thumbprick I received from yanking brambles without gloves on doesn’t rankle.
Many sections of the yard are carpeted with fuzzy spires topped with little pink blossoms (I think Lynn identified it as heal-all, but the pictures I found online seem to differ). There are also numerous little pansy-type flowers scattered hither and yon. I’m doing everything I can to encourage these attractive volunteers which seem to do just fine in competition with less attractive weeds and grasses.
The weather was quite uncooperative for David & Lynn’s visit, but that didn’t stop me from having a wonderful time. I hope they enjoyed visiting half as much as I delighted in being able to offer hospitality in my own home. I was glad that David’s kitty allergy didn’t cause him too much grief, despite the Loki-ubiquity. Asheville’s not exactly an international hub, so I am deeply grateful when friends go out of their way to come and see me. I hope this is the first of many other future sojourns.
This image is from the Phil Mechanic’s building in the River Arts District, to which we paid a brief visit on Saturday afternoon.
The Vernal Equinox has come and gone. Supposedly we have turned the corner into Spring. I feel like I’ve been insanely busy, but I don’t seem to have a whole lot to show for it.
And today it snowed and then the sun came out and it snowed and then the sun came out and then it snowed. There’s an inch of it on my porch. I’m ready for the warm weather to stay already. It’s been too long since I went out on a photo expedition.
Dear friends David & Lynn arrive for a visit on Friday. The weather forecast is a bit grim. Maybe we’ll catch a break, because Asheville is at its best when we’re outside.
I acquired a lovely new rug as a housewarming present. Loki has commenced to shred it.
My leather armchair and matching ottoman, which survived nearly 20 years in pristine condition, have been reduced to a mass of punctures and scratches in 8 months. They used to be my nicest pieces of furniture.
My expensive honeycomb windowshades are an irresistible target for clawing and climbing.
From time to time a thing of value that is supposed to not be on the floor lands on the floor in a catastrophic fashion. This is not the result of malicious behavior, but of exploratory curiosity.
And although he’s mostly grown out of his kitten moniker of Señor Poopifeets, there’s the occasional brown pawprint somewhere I really wish it weren’t.
The upshot is that I can no longer possibly be house-proud. At best, I can keep things reasonably clean and hold the cat hair down to a dull roar. My belongings ARE going to be mauled and in disarray. There will be brown bags and boxes and cat toys strewn about the living room.
I can have neatness, control, and unmarred furniture or I can have Loki.
I think I’ll take this as an opportunity to practice detachment from inanimate possessions and loving-kindness toward the little furry creature who shares my home.
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