Time Upon Time, Love Sings

Transitions sweet & bitter, still left with now and a thousand thoughts knocking at once. Back to loving gratitude, buzz of insects in the spring, wind in the trees. Purple flowers remind me of how wonderful life can feel, the depths of shared human experience, so good the smiles shine through the thickest of grays. Photos won't upload for now, hmmmmm

I Smell Spring

I smell spring stalking me through tall grass, flowers blooming on islands in the bay, spy hawks perched on crooked telephone poles. To hell with anxiety and tight chestedness, to love and mountain ranges with me, aloft with song and laughing. The world sits poised to open up to me with deep sincerity, and it brings tears of joy to my eyes.

Lychees & Longans Change My Life

My co-worker brought me a handful of chilled lychees & a handfull of chilled longans, so delicious. We've worked together for a few years now, and I guess that it's a tradition by now, a delicious & sweet one. Her handfulls inspired me to buy some lychees of my own and take 'em on home to my impressionable darlings. The darlings were impressed, and the afternoon took on a fresh & lovely hue, fruit & clouds blended by fate & good will. Thank Goddess for times like these.

Flowers planted in my fecund mind earlier this month have taken over the place, my nostalgia scented jungle cubicle by the bay; jasmine, tiger lily, gardenia, roses, pineapple sage, yum. Summer breezes play kid's games with me, lending grist to exceptional afternoons. I work hard, with no small price of pain, to unlock worlds beyond the pale of pavement & trail, skyways & constellations obscured by storms electric. I sense that I am onto something, and so am starting a new life without reserve, chock full of vim.

The Pink Flowers Smell After All

When we inherited our yard it was sprinkled happily with a drought resistant and prolific soft pink flowered annual, pretty little things with lots of green leaves and pert yellow triple-stamens. At some point in my life I decided that most pink flowers don't smell, and always have thought that of these pink flowers. So, as my darling daughter picked one while lounging on her plastic future-vehicle last dusk, and then went to smell it, I looked down and said "Oh, those pink flowers don't have a smell Darling".

"Yes they do smell." she whispered, and handed me the blossom, which had a most divine fragrance. Never too late to discover this type of thing, so packed with delight and simplicity. Right when I'm reading a book on using flower essences for transformation too, my aromatic allies rippling through summer, breathing life into the almost dead, cutting out old wormy wood, communing with the water spirits at dawn with goony grins. I take the form of a lion-man, massive mane, my tail whips, now that's living.

Flower Beings

Becoming the flower feels best. I used to just look at them, real close, maybe rub my face against them, smell them. Then, one fantastical summer day a thousand miles of desolate roads ago, I came across a new way of viewing the flowers. Become the flowers, so the colors shine out from you. Your body may try to contort in funny ways, as the spiders and insects crawl all over you, but the breezes feel wonderful, and the dawn light opens you up.