I have dreams.  Dreams of perfect days and gladness and joy.    When my highest thoughts in their purest form take their wings.  Sometimes I feel the cool relief of the faintest breeze under my wings and my feet stretch out, toes barely touching the ground. 

But as easily and quickly as it came, the joyous current dies, and my wings fall away, into the clashing sounds of responsibility and burden.  It it were not for the contentment in serving and the fine honing that comes from persevering, there would be no need in going on.

Anyway, dreams don’t die easily.  They can be put away, put down, shut up, spoken to harshly, and pressed and pressed again by the weight of what one must do.

Dreams have a way of preserving themselves and coming back again, in a keener and keener form.  Like a knocking at the door that won’t go away, dreams call and call again, sure that you need what they hold out to you.

So it’s good to listen and to bring the dreams out and to nurture them and run after them.  No matter how pressed down dreams have been, they are still just as strong — maybe stronger, and they shine better than before.

Sometimes, with the pressing, dreams just get more and more beautiful.  With the pressing, perfect days become more precious.  With the pressing that is life, we learn a strength and determination that could have come no other way.

With the pressing, we see colors we never knew were in us, and ideas and thoughts that could never have made it to the surface, without the pressing.  Thus I choose to keep believing that, like cream rising to the top of a worn pitcher in an old country kitchen, some sweet day my dream will surface, fully formed, and I’ll have my wings.

PS — Sometimes I just need to ramble. It’s a rocky road some days, but you are welcome to come with me.

I have deemed this a good day to wear bright colors and polka dots, just in case you were wondering what to wear.  And if you’re already dressed, it is not too late for you to wear BrIgHt CoLoRs and PoLkA dOtS tomorrow. 

I think what started this whole thing is that last night I snuggled up with Michaela in her bed and read my new issue of Where Women Create.  The next thing you know, we were fast asleep and I woke up this morning to the bright sun on Michaela’s bright green walls and her very tall doll house.  I don’t know.  Maybe that green just sort of put me in the mind to be BRIGHT today.  (Dear Jessamy, I see why you love this color.)

Tumbling through the closet and some drawers, I found bright polka dotted clothes. 

And a bright skirt.  Why not go wild with patterns while we are at it?  I don’t think anyone will mind as long as we’re not too shocking.

Out in the yard this  morning, this little crocus decided to be bright with us.  And I noticed that the daffodils are not quite so scrunched up this morning, as it is bright and less cold today.

It also seemed a good day to wear a new Women of the World pin.  And it seemed a good morning to drive to the little all natural food store to get a cup of coffee, and see if anyone noticed my pin.  (I do look for feedback, after all, and I was really wanting coffee this morning, which I don’t usually drink anymore. )

Imagine my delight when the cashier said, “Oooo, I like that button you are wearing.”  I was so thrilled.  She had to read it and then we talked a bit about Etsy.  I love seeing friends and being around people, so it was nice to start the day out at the little store, before I get started typing all day.  (We’ll just pretend like it’s not happening.)

I wore the Brave pin today.  Tomorrow I may be wearing Demure.  One just never knows.

If life could stand still, like a black and white photograph, with me ever moving in one little frame, I would want to be caught on a perfect morning.  A morning with an empty to-do list and new acrylics.  Gold and black and red and blue.  And white.

I’d want to be caught on a lazy slow morning with a yard full of birds, singing outside my window — serenading me and my hot tea.

I would be wondering what to do, with a tingly good feeling from my head to my toes, because the day is free and art supplies are plenteous.  Fabrics with texture.  Pinks and reds and robin’s egg blue.  Woven heavy threads that mean something as I hold them.

I’d want to be caught with stacks of old books and sheets of old music and plenty of glue and a colored pencil or two.  With my tea kettle whistling, I’d dream of what to do.

I’m quite sure I could make something pretty and be content, caught in a frame such as that.  My children would be there too, scattered about the house, their sweet voices not quite a distraction, but more like music. 

Yes, I’d like be caught there.  Would you?

I want that to be true about myself.  It’s something my mother says in regards to herself, and I admire that about her.  It’s part of being content: being able to take a little something and be happy with it. 

When it comes to working at home, I think the most enormous challenge is staying at the desk.  A desk that’s in your house.  All day.   All.  Day.  Long.

Some days, I have conversations with myself all day.

The curtains upstairs sure could stand to be washed.  

Hey, you must stay at your desk. 

Oh, the sun is so bright, it would be so nice to be in the garden. 

Uh, you gotta stay at your desk.

That’s right!  I got a new seed catalog in the mail yesterday!  I want to go look at it.

Listen, hardhead, stay at your desk.

So, what I do is focus on some little thing that I can do on a break or during lunch that’ll make me happy.  It’s a little something to look forward to, and then a little something to think on afterwards.  On Saturday, I washed the vintage-looking soap dish in my kitchen window and put in a new bar of soap.  Do you know I could smell that soap all the way to my little desk in my little office off my little kitchen?  It made me happy.  Lord, let me be happy with little things.

patina  1 a fine crust or film on bronze or copper, usually green or greenish-blue, formed by natural oxidation and often valued as being ornamental    2 any thin coating or color change resulting from age, as on old wood or silver

In the garden this morning, I was struck by the beauty of patina, and patina is nothing more than age. 

I see my age.  Every day when I look in the mirror, I see the wrinkles around my eyes that have come from  much smiling.  But I would not trade my smiles.  In fact, every time I see those wrinkles I should be thankful that I’ve had things to laugh about.

The patina in the garden is beautiful to me.  If there’s anything I love about winter, and there are some things about winter that I love, it’s the fact that this patina — the age — becomes so much more prominent when the beauty of youth — the flowers — is sleeping. 

There’s a Jewish proverb.

For the ignorant, old age is as winter; for the learned, it is harvest.

That, dear friends, will be written into my  journal today. 

I do not want to dread another day because there might be another wrinkle, or because my joints say stay in bed when my mind says but I want to do things.

I want to wear bright colors and practice beautiful sayings in my mind and smile and have a beautiful spirit.

It bothers me, for myself and for my daughter, that we are surrounded by a culture that honors youth more than wisdom.  Neither of us is immune to the natural tendency of a woman to want to be pretty, but I struggle to help my daughter grasp now, in her youth, that a beautiful spirit is priceless.  It’s all the more reason for me to act my age and try to show her.

In parting, let’s smile.  It has been said that old age is when actions creak louder than words. 

Happily, we are all headed that way. 

Yes, my dear friends, we have snow.  And lots of it.

At least 6 inches, and it’s still falling.  Right now it’s sleet that’s falling.  You can hear its pinging on the frozen leaves and ground.  It’s very beautiful, and I trust that my little daffodils fare well under their blanket. 

I call this time of year the dance to spring.  It’s a push and pull of cold and mild, cold and mild.  I do love North Carolina, the beautiful tarheel state. 

Looks like a fancy wedding cake to me.  Perhaps a couple of brave overwintering song birds are getting married this lovely day.  The wind sings to them as the sleet beats a steady soft rhythm on the icy leaves. 

A beagle was made for running and hunting.  You can tell by the ears.  Only when flung full out in the wind can you really appreciate a beagle’s ears.

Ah, I must work today.  My office curtains are open wide and the snow casts a bright white into the otherwise gray day.  I’ll be holding my hot tea and looking outside, and listening to doctors’ voices as they admit and release patients all day.  I’m reminded note after note of how fortunate I am to be able to sit at home and type. 

Be thankful for this day.

Inspiration comes in many shapes and forms, such as a 69 cents, beautifullly-grazed cup from Goodwill.  Anyway, my pencils are happier in something pretty.

I could spend a day organizing little bits of paper into categories, sharpening colored pencils, arranging things just right.

Quite simply, there’s something about a beautiful work space that’s inspiring.  Don’t you agree?

Actually, I have been organizing beautiful scraps of paper, drinking hot tea and listening to Michaela read to me from a creative writing assignment.  It’s a lazy slow day, which I welcome after days and days of being busy and running around.

I hope you are having a delightful Wednesday, full of inspiration.

I woke up this morning thinking of a dandelion I saw in the yard just three days ago.  Yes, in spite of the fallen leaves being brown and crunchy cold and the air being chilled, there were two or three dandelions blooming close to the ground.  How cheerful they were!  (I still don’t understand why people spray dandelions to kill them.  They are food after all and so full of minerals, but that’s another post for another day.   Today we are being joyful and not shaking our fists at people who spray dandelions.)

Anyway, I wanted to share this bright yellow with you this morning, a reflection of the sun’s warmth and a reminder that, hopefully, there’ll be more flowers in the spring — not too far away, when you think of it.

I also remembered a magical little patch of mushrooms growing in my mother’s woods that we spied on our Thanksgiving Day walk.  I am sure there are garden fairies hiding not far away, for if ever I saw a magical mushroom around which fairies play and run and dance and sing, this is it.  Just another touch of yellow to cheer you.

And finally, one of my most recent pins.  Just a little yellow bird wanting to talk with you about who he really is. 

As an aside from our lovely talk about brightness and cheerfulness, our brooches are still in production here.  I am still working on my Etsy shop.  Pricing stumps me.  I just have no idea, but I’m sure I’ll get it worked out. 

I hope you have a lovely Saturday! 

Sharing a beautiful old picture from my collection, and sharing a lovely thought.

Content:  happy enough with what one has or is; not desiring something more or different; satisfied.

Today has been filled with merry thoughts, mostly due to the kindess of others and the simple joy found in nature. 

I was admiring again today some exquisite little gifts from Marqueta and her girls.  You’ll notice the finely detailed card from Bennet Manor, to our very own dolls.  Oh how the dolls love getting such ladylike and special packages!

And, honestly, I cannot quit looking at the little acorn and felted pincushion Marqueta sent.  I took it outside just so you can see how very nature-inspired this pin cushion is.  For just a moment I pretended that my garden gnome was a tiny magical tailor who had worn himself out making holiday clothes for the ball held deep in fairy forest each year.  He lay down to nap but stayed close to his prized pin cushion.

The picture is a bit blurry, but I thought you’d want to see Michaela’s gingerbread house, complete with PlayMobil snowman and santa out front. 

I realize there is no paucity of colors in my clothing choice for today, but you only live once.  And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

Walking Annie this afternoon, I spied pretty orangey-pink rosehips.

And a cedar from which to take a small bough to add to my potpourri.

I keep a large zip-loc bag of potpourri in my blanket cupboard.  It scents the blankets, but I also take from it to make sachets and to simmer on the old stoves in the house, so I add to it constantly – whatever I can find.  Its scent changes over time, but it always has an earthy, nature-y scent.  I love it.  Some rosemary goes into the basket to be dried and added to the potpourri.

Annie is supposed to walk beside me.  She pulls me.

The camellia is in bloom.  I love having something so bright and so pretty in the garden this time of  year.  Camellia, you help me hang on. 

Hmmm.  I cannot decide.  Does my sock really set off the color of the bright green moss?  Or does the moss really just make my socks?  Uh…

Back inside, I can smell the sagebrush from my Idaho friend.  I love it so much.  Marqueta filled a pretty sachet with sagebrush, which is (or was) a type of Artemesia, something I never knew until I met Marqueta.

I hope your heart is filled with merry thoughts today.