“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan




This plant dropped all its leaves this year. It drops some every year, but this year, all of them. It surprised me, and worried me a bit - it's shared a house with me for so many years, a piece of sculpture on the bench in the bedroom, a window to call its own, a wonderful curvy bit of greenery. But all the leaves fell to the floor, reminding me of a dream I had last year - I may have mentioned it - a dream of falling leaves, a dream from which I awoke to find leaves scattered all over the bedroom floor, and though I thought there was still life - still life, indeed - I wasn't sure. I've checked every so often to make sure there was still a bit of green at all the tips, tried to give it its own space, its own time. The pecan tree in the front yard didn't have many pecans this year, and I thought maybe the two events/situations were related, and I tried to just stay out of it. Just water and sunlight.

This morning - babies. All over. I cannot express how much lighter my spirit felt - truly. As if shackles had been thrown off, as if spring is almost here, despite the cold, cold wind outside. And oddly enough - or perhaps not - last night, I actually threw off a few artistic shackles, and worked on my collage/book. I had energy to do so for the first time in weeks. I glued papers without worry, I painted unhesitatingly, I sacrificed a ginkgo leaf to its pages. It was late, I worked to the sound of mindless television, and I slept well. And then this morning, these plant babies. I thought new beginnings. But no, that's wrong, I told myself, all beginnings are new, this is a continuance, a re-emergence. I thought of cocoons - beginning or continuance? I thought of seeds & acorns - both new, yet both just a continuing on of the old. I thought of seasons, the turning of the earth, every sunrise new, yet not, every sunset unique, but not. New moon just the same moon re-emerging.

I feel connected today - I feel an unfurling begin, but I will not hurry it, I will give it its own space, its own time. Sunshine & water.

Paper & paint.
& hope & prayer & agony & patience & fear & love


  1. Love
    renews itself
    with every sunrise,
    sleeps with the moon
    each night.

  2. how nice.
    how meaningful.
    love the idea of re-emergence.

  3. Your words are inspiring. Sunshine and water, lovely.

    Your words seem like a theme for your journal: new moon, cocoons, re-emergence, acorns, seasons, earth, sunrise, sunset....

  4. Re-emergence: how apropo!*
    ANOTHER gem from the treasure chest of observations and insights from the wonderful land of Emma Tree.
    Languish in the unfurling!

  5. And the unfurling continues. At last - a computer at my home. Something I've not wanted until lately, in much the same way I fought against having a cell phone, but which saved my life when my mother became ill. So far so good with this laptop, although I feel quite awkward with it - LOL! - AND sitemeter lost all but 2 of my visits for yesterday. :) But yesterday saw several changes, all very good, all positive, all supportive of this little blog - I ran into an old friend who, unbeknownst to me, had been reading my blog all along & was quite excited to have the new issue of Somerset Life in her hand. Little things that make me feel I am on the right path - she made me promise to tell Katie that the blue lights MUST stay up! A good day.

    Thank you all!
    :) Debi

  6. Sunshine and water. Such a simple statement and it speaks to me so deeply today. A beckoning to keep it simple...stick with the essentials and everything will be alright.

    Thank you Debi.

  7. Ah yes, water and what was that other thing? S-u-n-li--ght, oh yes that large yellow disk that lives in the sky that I've forgotten what it looks like because I haven't seen it in sooooooo long! he he just what we need is right, a little spring, a little green, a little sunshine and water.

  8. Jaime - It is only us, I think, who make things complicated. :)

    Suvarna - Oh, I wish I could bottle up some of our sunlight & send it your way, and when you opened it up, it would fill your world with light & warmth. Wouldn't that be fun?

    :) Debi


come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .