When a woman tells the truth, she is creating the possibility for more truth around her. Adrienne Rich
The first day of spring has come and gone. Here in Northern California the spring can last for what seems like forever. Waves of wild flowers travel across the county accompanied by the wild orange of poppies, who incidentally, appear to bloom without interruption all seasons. They do take a short break in the bleakest, coldest, shortest-day mid winter.
I love the tiny flowers. I love this shade of blue. I love blue and yellow together. I love their name. I love how I feel like a little girl with these in my hair, and I feel like me, now: just looking at them, remembering.
Baby quilts have been blooming under my fingers. While I am sewing, Life never misses a beat. Yesterday, I awoke to the sky down close to the ground, and turkeys calling. They are busy making more turkeys; the males (roosters?) fluff up and present a magnificent personae while the females maintain a disinterested face. I don't know how they get together. It was wonderful to wake up to their wake-up chuckles. This morning Wayne called me outside to "...see something." I drop everything, when he says that on his way out the door. He pointed to the ground, "I don't know if it's something's innards, or what..." Upon inspection I see two earth worms, and they're doing it with both parts! They are joined in two places, all slimy and swollen, and I think, omigoddess! I need my camera, and dash back inside. Yesterday I thought that I had lost my camera to a thief, as when I had returned to the car at the lake with the dogs, my door was open, and my camera was AWOL for two days because I was petrified that it was gone forever and didn't know where to look for it. Well, it was in the fruit-bowl so You-Know-Who wouldn't decide to gnaw the strap to smithereens. Oh, geez. I was back in a flash to rudely photograph earthworms being intimate, and they were gone! Not a sign of them, so you have to take my word for it: each worm was in their own hole in the ground, they were joined on top of the earth-wormy soil wet with this morning's rain. It was a most amazing sight.
These little blue flowers always meant that spring had arrived when I was growing up in Ferndale. They were among the first flowers to pop their little brave heads out into the rain, and rain, and more rain. They grew in profusion in various Victorian yards, untended they reached into decades beyond their planting. On our ranch they appeared in various spots. These are in a redwood box that Dad made for Mom a long time ago. At some point, after Mom's passing, I scooped up the box not really knowing what it held in the dried out soil, and am very happy to have them popping up here, March, 2010.
The sun is out. Bugs are making patterns in the air. Fig leaves are unfolding. Hens have sung their egg song already. A breeze is moving through the tall maple tree. The doves are coo-coo-cooing. In the quiet is animation. And yes, it is all beautiful, and in a way, kind of melancholy.
I do love you.xoxoLC