Changes marking time

Some things here at the old house in on the island don’t change a lot … the live oak trees, the spanish moss, the way the sandy soil of the yard sinks underfoot.

Other things seem to be in perpetual flux.  The sounds of traffic on the road a few blocks away. The scents that whisper on the incoming breezes…right now, sweet with jasmine and wisteria…or sometimes earthy and salty with the scent of the marshlands.

The changes I mark most  are the ones whose change reminds me that, over the span of time, nothing changes so very much.  Constant changes.  Like the ocean tides. The great horned owls in the hollow of the live oak…mating, brooding, raising their young…and moving on until next time. The anole coming out with the warmth of spring…big dominant males puffing their throats to warn off the small, slender teenagers with their cocky attitudes, and the coy  females who in the end, really make all the decisions.

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Frogs and toads are laying their eggs, and soon that too will signal change as they become tadpoles and tadpoles become frogs/toads and the damps areas of my yard come alive with song.

The pear tree has blossomed already.  There will be fruit before long.  I await the promise of the fig I have so carefully nurtured through all these winters and this spring’s random frosts far too late in the year…. without someone to cover and protect it, there would be no sweet fruit this year.  No promise of tiny baby fig trees to grow and continue into the future.

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Changes that serve as reminders that it is my privilege and my duty to protect this fragile environment around me.  I don’t grow exotic plants.  I nurture the ones nature placed here…and the ones generations past left behind.  Like the ancient azaleas lining the yard and standing in odd circles about the yard where once… decades ago, they surrounded some long ago tree….now lost to the changes of time and the vagaries of weather.  Yet the azaleas remain, reminding us of time past…and changes yet to come.

Immutable change…as constant and unpredictable as my ocean.

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Missed a few days here…

…some because I was just swamped with life, and then some because… I couldn’t think of anything worth sharing.

Now I’m back to try again.

Today was gorgeous. Sunny, around 80F, a soft breeze.  Birds singing, squirrels courting, azaleas, camellias, and spring flowers in mad profusion.  Children calling and laughing.  Remy, my Staffordshire, went out early and just didn’t come in.  Found her stretched out in the backyard, sunbathing.  Life is good.

On the writing front, things are … bumpy.  I am thrilled I completed the edits on Khyr’s story.  It is tighter, cleaner.  Not perfect…they never are…but I am proud of it.

The harder part is ahead.  What next?  I have a story I love.  Characters I adore and want to send out to meet the world.  So far the suggestions from those I know and care about who are part of the publishing industry (authors, editors, etc) are very very disheartening.  I am not usually one to be thin-skinned at all.  I accept critiques with delight in what I can learn and possibly improve.  I am open to advice and criticism because I want so very much to be the best possible writer I can be…

But this time…it is like ripping my soul out.

A friend whose clarity and wisdom I much appreciate suggested it is not just ‘this’ … but that it is another layer of pain and stress on top of all the monumental stress and fear we are already coping with in our day to day lives.  Another layer of hopelessness.

I want to tell you….don’t give up.  Don’t give in. We are strong enough to overcome the fear and the sorrows.  Strong enough to keep trying, to hold onto the precious things…like flowers in the morning sun, and our children’s laughter… and remember that the fight is worth it.  The human race is worth it.  Our world is worth it.

And, hopefully, in the end…maybe even just this small writer’s dream will be worth holding onto … until it is time for it to bloom as well.

 

sometimes your heart breaks

…yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life….worse even than losing my husband.

It will make us stronger. And I don’t surrender to the sorrow and loss…not now.  Not ever.  But it takes a bit to bounce back.  So tonight… when I am much too depressing for polite company 🙂  I will just leave my dear friends and companions with a lovely Fantasy to hold on to…

Look up.  Keep believing.  Keep dreaming.  Out of the sorrow…something beautiful will rise.

winged beauty...