it's been 6 years of words. 6 years of bad photographs and good, art and not, prose that worked, poems that sometimes didn't. 6 years of joy anger heartbreak silliness. 6 years of blackbirds, of floods, drought, deaths, summers. surprise winter snows, 6 years of driving backroads with katie, using this blog as an excuse, saying i need to find pictures, meaning in truth let's go get lost.
6 years of my toes and cats and, well, you know. stuff.
sunday was my official 6 year blogiversary, but the neighborhood was blooming and i couldn't say no to the flowers. at 6 you know what's important. i head into this 7th year feeling good. i feel awake and willing to cut down the thorns that have grown around me for the last couple of years. dismantling, baby.
above, once again, the painting that started it all. when emma still believed in magic. painted when emma was young and believed so easily. she's now 17, and i have a feeling she wouldn't out loud admit it if she still did. it takes a while, to come back to that place, to believe again, to hold out your hands and catch all the magic the universe is tossing your way. and even then, there will be moments of darkness when you make fists and sleep with your head under the blanket, moments it all seems gone, when you feel deserted and alone. it doesn't matter - the universe will wait. the gifts and magic are still there, and always were. thank you all - all of y'all who have hung in with me while my head was under the blanket. there are no words to tell you how much it has meant. you have been my gifts.
this morning is chilly, that last surprise freeze headed our way.
hopefully the last, but who knows?
the tulip trees are still pink and full
and yesterday i passed a row of daffodils shining like stars in the gray day.