Tuesday, June 10, 2008

how could I resist the wild roses & the poppies?




I had to stop, the smell of the roses almost made the car park itself. so despite the thorns and the curious stares, I did indeed stop to smell the roses (and I sang the song while I breathed in the sun-soaked perfume) and pulled off an armful of blossoms and only pricked myself a few times, all those scratches are gone now. the ditch poppies, roots, dirt and all, will bloom happily in my yard this year and for years to come, I expect. though some sun might be helpful. it's raining here again.

oh well. doldrums, I'm told, that's what I'm in. it seems as good a diagnosis as any. but I'm promised some clear skies and smooth sailing, by a friend who knows whereof he speaks, having navigated similar waters in times past. I've enjoyed his wise and foolish counsel for over two years now, and all I have to say about that is thank you.

(the daisies were here already when I moved in. and the small pot of mint is from the hardware store. ours has a resident cat, and a fine selection of paint, overalls, birdseed and candy. and really, what more could a girl want?)

5 comments:

Lydia said...

Too bad we can't trade some of my sun for some of your rain.
It has been a spectacular year in eastern Los Angeles for wildflowers. Most of the winter it rained once a week. Now that the sun in bearing down from a steeper angle, the brush has changed from shades of green to tan and brown.
It must be so charming to have wild roses on the roadsides. I don't think most people realize how hardy a plant the are.
With warmest regards-

shara said...

hello and thank you lydia, we'd gladly trade some rain for sun. it's grey again today but the forecast for the rest of the week is partly cloudy. which, I suppose, means partly sunny. so maybe those warm regards are helping already. I visited your blog and your flowers are lovely, hope you're back to green and blooming again soon.

Lydia said...

Thank you. The garden here will bloom year round- but the hillsides- right now I'm getting ready for the 4th of July with the intent my friends in colder regions get ready for winter. The difference is that instead of preventing cold damage- we have to be concerned with fire danger.

shara said...

I've never been to california but someday I'll go. there are all sorts of places I'd like to see. one day when the girls are just a little older I am going to find some place and take a trip myself, to some place I don't know a soul, and find a room to sleep in and spend a weekend, writing, drawing, taking pictures, drinking cold green tea and eating whatever suits me and my budget, and no one will call me by name, and I will be beautifully and freely anonymous, giving away art to strangers, sitting outside a coffee shop in the sun, singing for the pure joy of it. I can feel that sun on my face already, so I know the time is coming soon. I'm in no particular rush though, not this morning, there's sun again! and patches of blue sky. and I sing tonight, with my family there, just a few songs at an open mic night but my daughters' faces last time (first time) they saw me on stage there, in front of the black curtains - that was a sweet thing, to see that pride.

and maybe they'll remember that moment, and it will sit on one side of the scale, helping to balance all the times I got impatient brushing the snarls out of their hair or telling them, yelling at them to clean their rooms or their teeth or stop this or start that. which has nothing to do with hillsides, I suppose, but your comment seemed to prompt all that. maybe it was the cold and the fire, and the idea of protection and planning, it seems everything comes back to mothering some days, maybe it's because for better and for worse it's so much of who I have chosen to be.

Lydia said...

There is grace which comes with accepting the importance of parenting. It isn't just quality of time. It is also quantity.
People understand so easily that when a moment happens in business- we should grab it before it passes. So it is with children. If we are not there when the moment happens- it may never come again.
Blessing to you.