I was kind of nervous and antsy last night.
I don't usually get this way when The Prospector is gone. I'm not afraid of being here by myself and I certainly don't worry about critters.. the animal kind anyway. I'm not afraid of the dark and I don't scare easily.
But , for some reason, I felt unsettled. The moon was moving in and out of clouds, casting light on the surrounding hills and then disappearing... bringing darkness and quiet.
So I got closer and higher.
This time I got the right reflection of the lamp where it needed to be... in the picture.I think this is an interesting photo.
Anyway... the dogs were waiting. I took the phone, my hand gun and the camera... the three things that I take with me everywhere I go around this place. If something or someone is determined to do me harm they will have to come over an iron fence and probably get shot. That's their choice. That would happen before I called 911.
The Prospector has been gone since Monday. He will be here in a hour or so. I'm usually fine with this, but last night I had one of those moments when I wasn't.
I went outside with the dogs to prove to myself how brave I can be. I do this when I'm unsure of things. I walk right into whatever it is that I'm worried or unsure about. It's an old behavior.
I had the huge light over the garage on so I could see quite a distance out into and past the driveway. I took some pictures while the dogs did their thing. I put the camera in its auto mode that takes pictures in low light. I forgot that the shutter would be delayed and I moved the camera a little bit. The photo was still interesting.
If I had used a tripod and was not holding the camera strap in my teeth, and the cell phone in my other hand, I could have gotten a much sharper picture. I like the effect but not the blurriness.
This one was looking back into the house through the front door.
I also took a photo of the gun sitting on the porch step. It was cool... but I thought someone might be offended if I posted it. You never know.
The dogs were starting to bark at the "critters of the night" below the vegetable garden, so I called them in. It was probably a deer, but who knows.
We went back into the house and shut the door. I turned the outside lights off and went back to my knitting, taking one more photo of my favorite chair before I settled in for my last evening as a single woman, alone on her mountain top.
The doors were locked and bolted. The dogs were safe in their crates and as I crawled into bed, I heard an owl hooting in the distance. Then, the coyote started their singing on the next knoll. What wonderful night songs. What beautiful lullabies.
It's Thursday afternoon now. The Prospector just got home. I'm so glad he has returned safely.
I made some potato salad and chicken for dinner.
The nervous feeling is gone. He is home and all is well...
"So prayer is our sometimes real selves trying to communicate with the Real, with Truth, with the Light. It is us reaching out to be heard, hoping to be found by a light and warmth in the world, instead of darkness and cold. Even mushrooms respond to light - I suppose they blink their mushroomy eyes, like the rest of us."
(Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers)
(Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers)
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
"I grow plants for many reasons: to please my eye or to please my soul, to challenge the elements or to challenge my patience, for novelty or for nostalgia, but mostly for the joy in seeing them grow."~David Hobson
The tiny grapes on this vine are just starting their journey.
The magical process of becoming.
Gardens are so wabi sabi in their growth. I like formal gardens, but it is the comfortable, country gardens that are my favorites with their rambling nature and irreverent attitude.
All the flowers seem to get along and each is tolerant of being with the others.
The sage sits next to the chrysanthemum.
And the succulent shares a bed with the sweet alyssum and a wise Buddha.
There is mystery at work here.
A small viola that grow in the rocks where they were not planted.
I'm not the only gardener in this garden.
It takes the pollinating bees, the worms and the spiders to make this garden healthy. It would be presumptuous of me to take the credit and say that I do all of the work in this place. There are birds that would disagree. There are many helpers here.
I weed, hoe, plant and compost. I plan and create structures... add some garden art.
This garden, that overwhelms the senses in Spring, is not completely of my own doing. I'm more like one component of this orchestra. Without all the various instrumentalist, the sound and the soul of this garden couldn't be played. Every insect, bird and creature is there for a reason. This makes me feel like a grateful part of something amazing and wonderful.
"Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace." ~May Sarton
My mother understood this... and her mother before her.
As one of my garden signs says.....
"In search of my mother's garden, I found my own. "~ Alice Walker