Today's post is one that's filled with a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
You will notice the tulips on my dining table are nearing the end of their life. As you see from the photo above, I've taken full advantage of their every stage and am now enjoying their papery translucence just before they completely fade off. Interestingly, I took this photo earlier this morning, but now hours later this yellow beauty has since dried up and called 'er done.
Since it's only Monday, I can't call this my Five on Friday, but you will see I've used a similar format. I hope you enjoy the moments you spend here today! And that your heart finds something peaceful, hopeful, and a little fun. Bring your tea, it's longer than I figured it would be.
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ONE: The Garden is Coming Alive
Our region has finally shaken off its winter dullness, and now every morning there's something new to see and marvel at in our garden and neighbourhood. Even though it happens every year, once Spring arrives in earnest, it still surprises me just how quickly--and seriously--the earth begins her process of coming alive, with green shoots and leaves springing up out of nowhere, without notice.
"And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the Spring begins"
~ Algernon Charles Swinburne
Two weeks ago, most things still looked mostly 'dead'. Hardly a sign of life. But, early this morning I went out and there were my tulips in full bloom, as well as the gorgeous new day lily I brought home the other day from the garden centre. I did not plant her yet, but her eagerness to blossom reminded me of a pregnant woman desperate to release that baby inside, even if she's still in the back of the car or riding the elevator up to the maternity ward. This Venetian Fringe, still in her garden centre pot, sitting by the front step, bloomed right then and there, and she has several buds ready to follow suit. Get me in the ground, Girl!
We planted these purple-pink tulips last fall, and we couldn't wait to see them when they opened up this Spring. My, isn't that a gorgeous colour? We're hoping they will spread over the next few seasons. Now, that would be something to see.
The pink flowers in a large dark blue pot make a nice splash of colour near our front step. I thought they were a variety of petunia, but somehow I picked up a pot without a tag, so now I'm not entirely sure. Anyone recognize them? Whatever they are, I love their sassiness and that brilliant combo of deep pink with almost reddish centres.
"By looking at our world through its gardens,
we reaffirm the simple human capacity to
create beauty on this earth..."
~ Audrey Hepburn, Gardens of the World, 1993
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Journals for me are 'pour out' places. They are tools that help assuage my inner need to put pen to paper. A question I have asked myself often, why do I write? I write so that hazy thoughts can come out into the light of day. I write to discover what I'm really thinking. I record a bit of diary to track things like the weather, facts and figures of events, special and ordinary. I journal to track my inner life, what's making me happy, what's unsettling me, what's weighing on my mind about personal matters or the world at large. My notebooks are a catch-all for anything I'm thinking about when I sit to write: goals for better health; inspirational quotes that lift me up; prayers I pray for myself or other people; ideas for new posts, my to-do lists, birthdays I don't want to miss, etc. . My journals are much like this particular post -- a little of this and a little of that.
My journals are work horses, so for me, it's not possible to keep it all pretty and in perfect penmanship and without 'typos' or crossed out words. It is what it is. Still, I do love notebooks with eye catching covers, ones that are nice to hold in my lap and will stay open when I write. The pages must be wide lined. Narrow lines give me a slightly claustrophobic feeling, like maybe the words will squish up to each other and won't be able breathe out their proper meanings.
I love to use stickers -- I like floral, vintage, or whimsical designs. I've tried three-dimensional ones, which are gorgeous, but they do leave funny humps in the pages, making it hard to write on. So when I cannot find what I'm looking for, I clip out pretty magazine pictures and use them to decorate the insides of my journals. With a snip of a scissor and the whisk of a glue stick, they create interest and give me a splash of beauty amongst all those wordy words.
The year or so around my 30th birthday, I was into reading everything I could find by and about L.M. Montgomery. I was drawn to her journals, which were gradually being edited and published for the public at the time. Having read every one of them, I had a firsthand glimpse of how this amazing woman used her journals to create a historical record of her life as a wife, mother, author. She started her first 'official' journal at age 15 and continued until her death. She wrote of her childhood and youth, using a reflective flashback style; she talked about her coming of age, marked her spiritual journey as well as her journey as a writer. She also wrote things about herself she couldn't tell anyone else.
I was inspired deeply to write in a similar fashion and so I began my own first official journal the year I turned thirty, which when I add it up, means I have been keeping ink flowing on my pages for over three decades. Before that, I used a spiral notebook to record a few events I didn't want to forget; it was hardly a diary, and certainly not a journal. And, I used big blue scrapbooks to capture glimpses of my adolescent youth, which housed birthday cards, funny notes from friends, the special corsage from Grad Night, programs of favourite concerts and events like the opera Carmen, pictures of the silly things we used to do at college... that sort of thing.
So I guess all along, I've been the recorder of my own history. What was it Sir Winston Churchill once said ... "For my part, I consider that it will be found much better by all parties to leave the past to history, especially as I propose to write that history myself." Indeed.
I'd be lost without my journals. Anything and everything I need to remember in the here and now, what I think I might want to remember for posterity, and all the stuff I need to get off my chest ... it all goes in there. Most of my old journals are stored up in the top shelf of one closet where I need a ladder to crawl up there. I've re-read some of them, but never all of them. I'm a little afraid of what I will find in there (
haha).
It's a little like digging over old bones. And sometimes it's a revelation to find that I learned something that long ago (it seems only yesterday). And how many times do I read something indicating that I've been going round the same mulberry bush over and over and over. It's disconcerting, though enlightening, to see that familiar territory turn up, again.
Right now they come in handy when I need to reference some detail or date of something for my memoir work. It's all there, well, mostly all there. There are things I fully expect to find, but for some reason, I never recorded that particular event or idea. Truth is, we tend to see more clearly in hindsight. The little idea that didn't seem like much, when we look back, we see it was a life changer, but who was to know that then?
I don't know what I'm going to do with them down the road. Perhaps once I write the stories down that keep stirring inside me, then I will feel the freedom to let them go. Then I won't need them. I certainly don't want them hanging around for anyone else to deal with when I'm gone. Or, heaven forbid, to read them.
You probably won't be surprised when I tell you that over these last thirty years, I've filled over 160 notebooks, large and small. I do my part to keep the notebook industry alive and well.
"I have a habit of being an archaeologist of my own past,
a sentimental collector of personal artefacts
which hold a unique significance."
~ Agnes Chew
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THREE: A Startling Moment Holding A Victoria Magazine
I was stopped in my tracks the other evening when I took out the June 1989 issue of the Victoria magazine. Holding it in my hands, I was drawn to the date. June 1989. That's almost thirty years ago. Half my age. Who keeps magazines for that long? Well, I'm pretty certain I'm not the only one to hold onto those cherished magazines, created under the guidance of the truly wonderful Nancy Lindemeyer, Editor in Chief. Many a Victoria reader will be nodding her head that she, too, has held on to her now vintage copies. I have the complete set of the original Victoria magazines, published from 1987 to 2004. They are still loved and still read -- oh, there used to be such lovely articles to sink into with a cup of tea.
I had a pen pal in those days, Cindy C. and we'd write to each other and tell each other which pages were our favourites. Letters and cards were always crossing in the mail. I still have some of them in my memorabilia boxes. We were kindred spirits. We loved writing letters, we shared this love of Victoria magazine, we loved all things Anne and L.M. Montgomery, kitty cats, living beautifully, being single, gardening ... you name it. Floods of splendid old memories come as I write. Oh my!
When I first saw that magazine on the news stand that summer afternoon in 1987, I knew I had an answer to my heart's prayer. Thankfully and gratefully I took that lovely first issue home and read it from cover to cover like an old friend. It gave something to my heart which longed for Beauty. It had lovely articles, gorgeous photography, wonderful ideas for gracious living--it encouraged women to create beauty in their lives and to share it with others. To this day, I'm so grateful for Victoria and the wonderful people who created it and lovingly put together every issue. I'm glad that Phyllis Hoffman has taken up the baton and carried on the tradition as the current editor. It's not the same magazine all these years later, but it's still lovely.
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FOUR: Countryside or City Dwelling?
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| photo: pixabay.com |
Susan from
Writing Straight From The Heart, asked the question recently on her blog, "Do you prefer city living or countryside?" I enjoyed thinking about that question for a moment -- here is my reply:
I lived in the countryside growing up on a farm. Loved it. Loved being close to nature, the fresh air, and wide open spaces near cows and wildlife.
I now live in a small city and I like it too. I like being close to the shops when I need something. I like being closer to good quality makeup even if I'm not a big makeup girl (someone left a comment saying that and I realized I liked that too). And, I must admit, after all these years living near neighbours and having street lights, I'm not so keen on being completely isolated and in the dark on a moonless night way out where I can hear the coyotes yowling. I guess I've been away too long. I like knowing my neighbours are around and hearing the laughter when they have friends over in their backyard. I love the sound of lawn mowers off in the distance. And in the night, when I'm wide awake, I look across the way, and see a light on -- sure enough, someone else can't sleep. And that's comforting to me.
When I need some countryside, I go out into it and revel in it. I'll go for drives down quieter country roads and visit the national park nearby, spending the day drinking in the wildness and greenery. But, then I'm happy to come home to my house on a city street with lights.
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FIVE: Off to Ottawa
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| photo: pixabay.com |
Flying off to Ottawa later in the week with my mom and youngest sister. We're off to visit my brother and his family for a few days -- they recently moved to the region. We're looking forward to seeing their new home and spending time together.
I never mind a longish plane ride. There's not much else to do so a person can really get into a book if she wants. Or just sit and think. Or visit, as I will probably do on this trip. We already pre-ordered our in-the-sky lunch (Chopped Leaf caters WestJet's food -- I like Chopped Leaf fare on the ground, so I'm anticipating a lovely grilled chicken salad as we soar through the air.)
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BONUS: Next Month
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| photo: pixabay.com |
I talked in a recent post
click here to read about starting a new segment on my blog. You'll recall I still want to write about living a beautiful life, but that I am looking for a new focus, something fresh to write about. There's a story I've been wanting to write out for a long time now. It's the story of how I found my beautiful life. How, when I found myself 30 years old and still single, I realized my long cherished dream of being a wife and mother by age 22 or 23, at the very latest by 25, was long past its due date.
I found myself in a season where I wanted new dreams, even as I still hoped for love and marriage one day. It became a life-enhancing inward journey of discovery. When I look back at it all, I marvel at how God directed my steps and brought me into a place of wholeness, beauty, and joy.
I'm titling this part autobiography/part memoir
How I Found My Beautiful Life. There's a glimpse of it in this post -- in the sections on my journal writing and finding the
Victoria magazine. I plan the next episode early in June, around the 8th.
The day was beautiful and the evening is almost done too. I spent my day writing and working in the garden. The robins sang their evening vespers some time ago. The sun is long set. Let me wish you all a beautiful wonderful week ahead -- may you catch many glimpses of heaven in unexpected places. Grace and Mercy to you all!
Hugs,
Brenda
x♥x
