I have been pondering what the “it” is after reading a post several weeks back from a fellow blogger. We all wonder at times, what is life really about anyway? I wrote the following poem with how I respond to that question…..
She wanted to know what the “it” was
A fair question to be pondered on a blog
Several commenters responded “YES, YES, where is the It?
It escapes me!
The same question dodged me in my younger years
But with six decades behind me, I know the It
For it is hard to recognize and often takes the passing of time
It can pass right under you like a tsunami in the open ocean
It rains a lot in Western Oregon. Until this weekend it has been a wet few weeks. One can hear a good deal of whining about the weather by this time of year. For me, I just roll with it. Knowing we are having adequate rainfall and an average snowpack provides comfort to me in these times of “climate insecurity.” The lakes will fill, the Salmon will have water to run in and a myriad of creatures and plants will be happy in the dry months yet to come.
It seems like just yesterday I was pulling out spent tomato plants & putting the garden tools away for the winter. But here we are again- Spring and my inner gardener is awakened again.
They arrive like expected guests
In the days after the New Year
A steady parade of seed catalogs
All shapes and sizes
From varying corners of the country
Filled with beckoning colored photographs
Of fruit, vegetable, & bloom waiting to fill the garden
Ready to awaken the winter-weary to a fresh frame of mind
The possibilities of the planting season.
The once elusive stray cat we had named “Phantom” that lives under our house has warmed to us. Her nightly visits for food has turned to a several-times-a-day occurrence. Yesterday she was following us around the yard. As she has outlived her name we now call her “Lizzie.” I find her a delight and a great subject for art pieces. Someday I hope to pet her on my lap. For more on our stray cats, see my Stray Cat post.
I’m always staying tuned for ideas (see my post “Where my Ideas Come From” ) but sometimes they pursue me- relentlessly. Think about wild birds flapping in your head endlessly or like someone tugging on your apron strings constantly. Yes, the ruckus will go away eventually, but not entirely. The inspiration will just go to someone else to be manifested and then pretty soon your muse will give up on you all together and you will be very lonely.