Dust Bunnies Beware

I’m cleaning my office. The mass of papers, magazine cut outs and Equal packets have been filed or otherwise put in their place. I think the papers multiply behind my back, though, because I turned around and there was another pile to be sorted. Hmm. Anyway, I can see the top of both desks. Almost everything has been dusted. I’m working on that small pile of items with internet addresses that I had at one time or another wanted to check out. Not too surprisingly most of them are not worth while.

I still have to vacuum and there are a few short stacks of various writings to sort, but it is mostly done. Wow. I have so much space! It’s not a big room, but it seems immense right now. I strive to be one of those people who immediately deal with papers as they arrive, but sometimes the garden calls or there is a cup of coffee waiting in the other room. Those other souls must be robots to turn away from the peonies as they begin to open or to pass up coffee and conversation. Anyway, that's the story with which I'm sticking.

Have I finally gotten spring fever? Probably not. I know I just feel great being able to cross this chore off my list. Then, a cup of coffee and a wander through the garden.

Will you look at that!

Some of the lilacs are beginning to fade in my yard. I have several late blooming ones that are just opening so I’ll have that scent around for a while yet. The irises are beginning to bloom, some deep purple ones and some pink ones while the blue flowered irises are taking a later bus since they don't like to share the splendor. The poppies will open soon. I have a lot of peonies this year and they will show up in a few weeks, too. Then roses, clematis, hydrangeas and coreopsis. As one set of blooms gives up pride of place, the next yells “look at me, look at me!”

I don’t know all the lessons to be learned from a garden, but I have learned that everything has it’s time to be enjoyed before fading away. Once it’s gone, you might miss it and be sorry it has passed, but you can remember it was glorious. Then you look around and relish what else has come along. Everything, everyone, has a time to bloom and part of the joy is knowing memories linger long after the scent has faded. Even in the midst of late blooming hydrangeas, we recall the spring.

Living the imaginary life

There is a shop in a little town in California called Theatre of Dreams. The sign on the door reads, Theatre of Dreams - Objects for an IMAGINARY LIFE. I ask you, how cool is that? And the little town is a ghost town so there is a bit of mystery to add to the mix, too.

I live mostly an imaginary life because I live so much in my head. I walk through reality, but I don’t live there very much. Probably because I write fiction, there is always a story going on in my head or there are visions of whimsies I want to create and there are many quiet places or garden paths or corners where I can recharge. There are surprises tucked into old trunks, too, along with books never written by my favorite authors and old movies cast with actors and actresses that, in reality, have not been made. There are conjurers preforming magic tricks that are not explained just enjoyed and illusions I glimpse out of the corner of my eye. There are people dressed in old fashioned clothing wearing gloves and hats who applaud my smallest endeavor and murmur excitedly whenever it appears I’m going to do something, but otherwise, I don’t notice them. It’s quite comforting.

I’m sure the imaginary life I lead could sound quite bizarre to anyone else, but I’d bet a lot of people live in their heads, too. It’s a fun place. Well, it’s a fun place for me to be. Hope everyone else’s imaginary life is a fun place, too.

Pain and gain

In case there is anyone out there who has not heard, my appendix ruptured last week. I have to say that even with the excellent drugs I was given, it has not been all fun and games.

There was pain, a lot of pain, but no longer. In fact, there is no pain at all. Big sigh of relief.

I am home and recovering. I feel fine. I cannot express how monumental this simple thing is to me now. I feel fine. If you haven’t been feeling fine, it is amazing when, once again, you do. It’s fantastic when there is such a difference, when feeling fine is feeling great.

So thank you to everyone who thought of me or prayed, who said a kind word or sent a card or a plant or who ran all over finding something good for me to eat and picked up endless prescriptions. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Because of you, I feel fine.