Ready to plant.

I love to learn—always have. Sometimes the new information or new way to look at something isn’t what I can immediately put to use. Like seeds for next season’s garden, I want to safely store them till the right time. My process is to write in a few notebooks—each notebook for certain types of learnings. Like seed storage, placing the learning seeds in a container. But not too tightly sealed. Seeds in airtight containers can be ruined by trapped moisture. As I learn more, I update previous notes keeping the thoughts open, not trapped. And I can’t begin to list how often I have referenced those seeds of learning to re-plant into my own life or deposit in the life of another.

Movin’ on.

I’ve been told I see things differently. And that’s mostly what this blog is about. I see a thing, a scene, something, then write about what I “see”—what pops into my mind. This pop in my thoughts is not something I work at—it just happens. Since this is a curiosity to some, I document some of them here. I capture a photo or stage one later, so you can see what I saw. In this case, I tried to photograph of a bald eagle sitting in a tree just down the road from our house. But as soon as the vehicle came to a stop, the eagle flew away. The eagle leaving his perch was more interesting to my mind than posing in the tree. What popped into my thoughts? Know when to move on. A year is ending. Move on. A new year is beginning. Move on. Consider what to keep clasped in my hands and what to let go. Move on.

Joy within.

This post ends my year-long skim through some lines in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poems. I discovered this poem, “The Shepherd,” pasted in the back of “The Friendship Birthday Book” that contained the Longfellow lines. This poem by Laurence Binyon was apparently special to the person recording birthdays in the little green book. The line that sticks out to me is “now he has joy within.” The shepherd was alone in the evening doing his work—and he experienced joy. Joy from within.

Silent presence.

Alfred Brendel was a renowned classical pianist. He’s also known to have said, “The word ‘listen’ contains the same letters as the word ‘silent’.” When I was navigating breast cancer treatment, the most precious gift was the gift of someone’s presence. Even silent presence can speak loudly.

Past and present.

Lines from the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem, A Gleam of Sunshine, come to mind as I cross on a walk-bridge in rural Kentucky:

“The past and present here unite

Beneath time’s flowing tide,

Like footprints hidden by a brook,

But seen on either side.”

A Gleam of Sunshine poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Amazing design.

Every year I am amazed that tiny seeds become yummy vegetables. The photo shows a carrot seed (under the first stitched “R”). Every day I am surrounded by awe-inspiring design in the world around me. Working in the garden reminds me to notice and appreciate these dependable and intricate designs.

Overcast

“Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.”

“The Rainy Day” poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow fits the weather as I write. Clouds gather and rain is predicted. I believe I appreciate the sunny days more because of the overcast ones. Bring on the rain!