|Come inside. It's warm in here.|
A fierce wind battles the garden. Heavy rains, then sleet and finally... here we go. First snows of the season arrive with a vengeance. As I haul tender flowers, indoors, all to be seen is a wall of white.
Yes, very early this year. But, if you're a local, you know it's a false alarm. Or, do you?
|Geranium rescues from the storm.|
Sure enough, blue skies and sunshine returned. The unwelcome powder quickly melted away. And, here I sit, trying to scrounge up a partner in crime for this afternoon's horse adventure. Without any luck.
|This island girl wouldn't have lasted a second in that storm.|
My fair weather riding friend hopped a plane to Florida. (Overreaction?) That's one of the weird aspects of living here. This being a Delta hub, lots of folks work for that behemoth. The only perk to such a horrible job is free flights wherever, whenever you 'need' them.
|Freesia warming up, indoors.|
I devoted my storm day to cleaning a closet ~ aka the catch all spot for piles and piles of stuff that need a permanent home somewhere, just not sure where.
Look what I found! A long lost photo of me and my little girl from 2 decades ago. Goofing off at a wedding, way back when.
I also found a diary. Mine. From 2005. When I was so miserable, I could barely get out of bed in the mornings. Though getting out of bed was the one thing I absolutely, positively had to do. Climb outta there, make that bed, so you can't crawl back into it. Get up and meet the challenges of the day.
|For most of that year, I forced myself to write 5 positive things, every day.|
Well, that was a delicious find, so I abandoned the cleaning project, brewed a pot of tea and read that journal, cover to cover. Took the better part of a lazy afternoon. I'd written volumes of drivel in that book ~ but it was all so cryptic! I never once spelled out what that hellish setback was all about. If anyone could understand it, you'd think it would be me. But, I can't, for the life of me, remember what happened that year to make me so sad.
I can tell you what happened, at the end of that year, to make me so glad.
Look at the cover of that 2005 journal. It's a Kincaid thing. A cottage surrounded by more flowers than any sane woman could ever need. That was the winter I studied to become a master gardener. And, this joint has been going uphill ever since! Who knew that flowers could turn the tables on misery?
Or, that I could be working toward a goal in my head I never knew I had.
PS: What to do? Keep it? Toss it? I discarded the journal, intact. Perhaps someone will find it, read it,
and go as crazy as I did, trying to decipher it. :)
Apparently there's still a wee bit o' the devil inside of me.