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Every day, spread the magical stardust of thankfulness into your life.
~Terri Guillemets
I sometimes feel as if we are in the dressing room of Autumn as she disrobes her fiery finery to put on something more relaxing for winter. If she wants to remember once more what elegance feels like, the snow begins to fall with all the magic of a multitude of star struck prisms.
How sad that in all this
finery or lack of finery with just layer upon layer of frozen crystals, she
transcends, only to descend once more when sun rays warm her. Her calming fairy tale magic takes a nosedive
into a dreadful Brothers Grimm fairy tale full of mud, frostbite and chopped
off toesies.
“Expectation is the thief
of joy.” If we leave expectations out of the equation, then we leave even
snowless days full of possibilities.
And here I am, looking for
possibilities as each day’s temperature may be flirting with the end of summer
or cozying up to the beginning of winter.
The cats are fed and I am
cozying up to my laptop wondering how my gratitude really rates on the scale of
life. Gratitude is a deeper, more
profound state of being than thankfulness, that involves a lasting attitude of
appreciation for life's circumstances and the people in it.
I seldom think of
gratitude, or for what I am thankful for.
Striving to live a positive life is a full time job for me. Not living under the best of circumstances creates
a heavy load in that department, but I always refocus back to the possibilities
in my life. One has to or the fingers of
depression begin to work their damage.
I think the most memorable
moment in my life of happiness was when I was young, maybe 25 years old, way
before I began to drag all that garbage of my past around with me instead of
letting go. My handle was ‘Juliet’, for
when I used my husbands CB radio, which was rarely ever.
I was home and my youngest
sister was with me when a trucker called on his radio asking if anyone was out there,
as he was passing through town. Since no one answered, I answered back without a clue as to what I would be
saying next. We jokingly hinted he could
stop by and take a short break. He took
us up on the offer and soon a large semi-truck was parked along the front side
of my yard.
We all hung out by the semi-truck
talking for about half an hour, before he said he should be going, but we had
been laughing and having so much fun. He
enjoyed the visit so much that he opened the back of the trailer and took out one
of the many boxes of Red Delicious apples he was hauling from Washington state
down through Nevada, which is where we were living, and gave it to me.
We were shocked but happy
and thankful for the gift. I have to say this is the
most pleasant memory that ever comes to mind all these years later. Those apples were so crisp and juicy, a reward just because we were ourselves, being outgoing and welcoming with a stranger of the CB radio world.
It is said that one never
understands all the simple pleasures that we could be grateful for, but for much
of the time we just assume it will always be there. It takes loosing those privileges to wake us up to what we always take
for granted and never even think of the gratefulness of it all.
Sometimes I would hear
that expression of getting off the plane and kissing the ground expressing an
overwhelming feeling of safety at the end of a perilous situation. It was my
first thought when we flew back home from Panama, Central America.
When we entered the
airport at Panama, it was extremely intimidating, full of armed Panamanian soldiers with rifles. Being so obviously white and more likely assumed Americans, we had to be careful about the police, because being stopped by one always meant a bribe had to be paid to be allowed to continue our trip.
There was a double price for groceries, one for Pannonians and one for the richer Americans, even though we weren't rich. If you where American you were always assumed to be rich. If you didn’t pay the guy who stepped out of
the shadows to watch your parked car on the street when eating or shopping, on ones return it would be discovered the guy stole from your car, usually a tire or two.
There was always tension in the air over the politics of the country, as dissatisfied students would riot on the streets, sometimes rolling a car
over onto its roof and setting fire to it while the owner had to run away. One never wanted to be in the wrong place at
the wrong time. If the military showed up in a fun place, it was best to quietly exit and go somewhere else.
We were never assigned a home on base, so we always lived out in the city of Panama, among the richer Panamanians. Our rent was at least doubled, which our government paid. We felt safe there because it was a Panamanian lawyers house and apartments for his children within a walled yard.
The third year, we were moved to an American owned street off base. ‘Just Cause’ happened and we found ourselves sitting on the floor of our bedroom for part of the night, as mortars flew over our house to destroy a police station nearby, while poor bloodied Panamanians from that shelled area, filled our back yard and carport, and we rightly feared for our lives.
It was an exhilarating experience, but overall, eventually the fear of no safety and the lack of empathy towards us made it a living hell, one in which we always had a gun on the coffee table just in cause its use was necessary.
For the first time in my
life, when I got off that airline flying us home from Panama after four years,
I felt like kissing that ground a hundred times, it was such a relief.
In The Garden
Front Yard with
Monarda fistulosa, Wild Bergamot, around the sign post,
still green in November.
Heuchera americana
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A type of American Ginger
Blackhaw Viburnum berries
Type of native clematis.
Seeds of Calico Aster with the yellow/green leaves of Oat Grass.
Coral Berry
Very prolific this year with more fruit than any other year.
Maybe Maple seedlings, maybe not.
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American Dogwood leaves.
Pachysandra procumbens
Left side of Back Yard
Clethra alnifolia, summer sweet in center of photo,
behind it is a male Persimmon Tree,
to the right is an American Hornbeam,
To the front left is a short type of American Arborvitae
where it catches rain runoff from the pathways.
With a hint of Christmas
The Book Wreath
My Favorite
While the cool winds chill
on a sunny day, and the rain is so pushy, never wanting to stay away; I seldom
celebrate this month’s holiday, although I do celebrate husbands love for it, which
I think centers around all that tasty food.
With the apple picking
just about done for, and winter nipping at our toes, may your days be bright
with possibilities and your soul warmed with the remembering of why life's a
blessing and not a curse.
Thank you for stopping by
and leaving a comment, if you wish. You
make my blog possible, and I do think if everyone disappeared, it would just
melt away into the cosmos and be a lost memory ever so pleasant.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Always with love,
~Yvonne
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