What a difference a day makes. Yesterday you see we had snow on the Easter decorations, but today was spectacular. I sat in the sun while my new daughter and my youngest grandchild put up more decorations, then Leah, the littlest and I climbed the hill behind the house where we heard some birds that were playing peek a boo with us. I went up again after dinner and, as I thought, this is primo cardinal territory. My adrenaline is still going from shooting two females.
Just this morning, I saw the first robin, Harbinger of Spring. That phrase is hackneyed, but it is so simply perfect I can't resist. A harbinger doesn't just announce up coming events; he also ends the show prior. So, the Robin as Master of Two Ceremonies, is outfitted beautifully for the part. Robins are a little disconcerting after watching Cardinals. Harbingers look you dead in the eye.
I've been contemplating this website and found meaning in the Robin.
The name of this site was originally just a working name. It had to be called something, and by heck, I sat down to make a website and by golly, it was done! So the name was a lark, something to be changed when I thought of something more meaningful.
Turns out 'getting it done' stands at the core of my philosophy.
Depression is living in the past. When you are mired in the past, you haven't any energy left to use for today. Anxiety is living in the future. Fear of what might happen overwhelms what is actually happening. You can't DO anything about the future or the past. Happiness is living in the present. I am over simplifying, of course, anything to satisfy the Captain Obvious in me. Point of the matter is, when it comes to accomplishing things, the only time is the present.
I am no stranger to depression, although it may not seem like it when you read my posts. This is my forum to celebrate Today, so I don't write about my own trudges through the unchanging past or my panicked flights of fantasy of my worst fears. Back in the Winter of 2013, I listened to my husband insist that the only way we were going to live happily ever after is if I quit working for money.
So by May, I did. I put my energy towards re-positioning storage, especially in The Snug. Spring, Summer and Fall finds me outside naturally. I gardened to my heart's delight and with Gramma's blessing. The Snug slowly became living space outside.
As Winter approached, one of my Monsters nagged me. Seasonal Depression. Dread, anxiety, fear of the future. My depression makes me feel helpless. The only thing that got out me out of bed was work, but the drive to work was fraught with white-knuckled fear at every hill. Making this blog was the first weapon in my arsonal against the Winter Monster. Another weapon was the Haiku, believe it or not.
Winter was going to be busy, no undertone of fear or darkness.
The Harbinger, the end of a great event, the best winter of my memory. On to Spring, the season I deliberately kept out of my Haiku. Spring is automatic salvation for me.
Walked out of the mudroom, Nikon around my neck. In spite of the swinging of the doors and the noise I made, Lord Rem sat quietly on the fence. I got the cold shoulder, though.
Once again I looked into my shopping cart and saw only real food. Hope I never loose that little 'kick.' Today's feast shopping was centered around the ham and the mashed potatoes. Bought a bag of apples, one of mandarins, and another of bananas. Broke my rule against buying produce at Aldi's. I am making that store my once a month pantry supplier, but their produce has to be used quickly.
I've been fussing for quite a few days, trying to manage a boring slide show using just my Samsung Chromebook. The weather reached the fifties today, so I set up shop in The Snug.
i fussed, fussed fussed with the photographs from the Humane Society, then realized I could put the memory card back in the camera and still fuss. After all, I saved the dogs somewhere, and what good is an empty camera? Turned in my seat to pop off a test shot, when I spied the red beak of Lady Remington.
Bull's eye! Dead center. I'm not sure if you can tell from these pictures, but at one point she was instantly replaced by her mate. Looking from the viewfinder, it seemed a magic trick.
Or a miracle.
Yeah. Part of a miracle.
When you arrive at your destination, pick a grandchild to help you refrigerate the butter mix, find a pot big enough for the potatoes, turn on the gas burner, check for tenderness, and look fruitlessly for a potato masher. Add butter mix to the hot potatoes. Allow your daughter-in-law to mash them with a beater from a broken mixer. She's supposed to be queen, but dinner is hinging on the taters.
Serve to an admiring crowd who say things like, "What, they didn't come out of a box?" or "These don't even taste like potatoes!" Feel blessed, sing praise, then go home and find that extra potato masher you packed in a box two days before.
Getting set to cook for the grand kids. Terry and I are heading down that way on Saturday. I can get into Terrilynn's kitchen at two o'clock. A feast! I decided on a big green salad, roast beef with onions and mushrooms, modified Heart Attack Mashed Potatoes, French Yogurt Cake topped with bananas and peanut butter syrup. That's Saturday's menu.
We lived through February. So have most of my seeds, much to my surprise.
February is over, just in time. However else would it end, but just in time for some of our more frivolous ideas to take root?
If you don't dream they can't come true