Fading Autumn Crocuses
"I care not much for a man's religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it."Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)
My dogs, Misty and Molly, are wrestling about through the patches of sunshine on the carpet. When they do that, I sometimes still feel the "idiot No" response rising and the back of my neck tenses. When I was a child, playing and laughing often elicited that No, and the boundaries that we crossed to arouse that response were always moving. Outright hilarity brought down unholy wrath. The contrast at my best friend's house was remarkable in hindsight. We giggled in her room or the basement of her house, undisturbed, often laughing to the point that we had to pee! Too late for my own children, I'm learning to let go and allow myself to enjoy my granddaughter's giggles and play, without constantly trying to establish control. For that, I'm thankful.
While I wrote the paragraph above, the dogs were exhausted and are now lying down for a nap. What was the fear that crawled up my tense neck and tempted me to yell the idiot no? Judgment? Destruction? Chaos?
I have a small patch of autumn crocuses that I planted two years ago. They were a little thrill of soft violet when they bloomed under the maple tree, fragile and luminous. It rained heavily yesterday, and although today dawned bright and sunny, the crocuses are starting to shrivel today. Each time I have taken the dogs out lately, I have enjoyed that little grouping of soft watercolour brush strokes of violet among the golden fallen leaves. Sometimes the colour has been more intense in the wet of rain and mist. On days like today, the colour glows weakly in the pale sun of dying autumn and the air has a sharp medicinal smell.
Current Mood: nervous
Current Music: Sergei Rachmoninov: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Var. 18
My dogs, Misty and Molly, are wrestling about through the patches of sunshine on the carpet. When they do that, I sometimes still feel the "idiot No" response rising and the back of my neck tenses. When I was a child, playing and laughing often elicited that No, and the boundaries that we crossed to arouse that response were always moving. Outright hilarity brought down unholy wrath. The contrast at my best friend's house was remarkable in hindsight. We giggled in her room or the basement of her house, undisturbed, often laughing to the point that we had to pee! Too late for my own children, I'm learning to let go and allow myself to enjoy my granddaughter's giggles and play, without constantly trying to establish control. For that, I'm thankful.
While I wrote the paragraph above, the dogs were exhausted and are now lying down for a nap. What was the fear that crawled up my tense neck and tempted me to yell the idiot no? Judgment? Destruction? Chaos?
I have a small patch of autumn crocuses that I planted two years ago. They were a little thrill of soft violet when they bloomed under the maple tree, fragile and luminous. It rained heavily yesterday, and although today dawned bright and sunny, the crocuses are starting to shrivel today. Each time I have taken the dogs out lately, I have enjoyed that little grouping of soft watercolour brush strokes of violet among the golden fallen leaves. Sometimes the colour has been more intense in the wet of rain and mist. On days like today, the colour glows weakly in the pale sun of dying autumn and the air has a sharp medicinal smell.
Current Mood: nervous
Current Music: Sergei Rachmoninov: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Var. 18
posted by Kati at 2:23 p.m.
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