Possibilities

From Free Will Astrology by Rob Brezsny

Leo astrology reading for this last week

for all Leo birthday celebrants out there

in which good company I also count myself.

According to Hawaiian mythology, the soul leaves the body during the night to seek the adventures known as dreams. The place of departure and re-entry is the "soul pit" (lua’uhane), which is located in the tear duct of the eye. During the next few nights, I'd love for you to send your soul flying out though your soul pit for some daring exploits that will revitalize your lust for life. Take your backlog of stored-up tears along with you, and pour them down like rain on the secret garden you've been neglecting. The garden will respond to the downpour with a big growth spurt.

The garden seems to be responding.

How are your dream and real life gardens growing?

Keesses!

N2

Blue Sunday

It was such a solitary and quiet Sunday after the busyness of the last holiday weekend.

But the flowers kept me company.

Big blue kisses.

x0

N2

A Bunch of Fireworks

Kind of looks like a fireworks bouquet, non?!

Hope you had a friendly gathering and got to see fireworks light the sky.

x0

N2

Everything's Comin Up Roses

It has been a bit of a strange Spring around here, but a good kind of strange. It seems we've had rain at least once a week this year -- and those have been good drenching rains, not little sprinkles. The water district, local gardeners, the trees and I are very happy about the fact that we are 6.4 inches ahead of normal rainfall for the season, which doesn't end until June 30.

Aside from making up for the past couple of near drought years, all this rain has meant a bumper crop of roses around here. And there is no better time to catch them at there dewy best than after a rain such as we had yesterday.

Most of these roses (except for the top right coral beauty) are in my neighbor Ren's yard at the HAtS (House Across the Street). She even gave me a few of her yellows to add to my own floppy pink and sturdy orange roses for this garden flower bouquet.

I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.

Emma Goldman

Blowing roses your way.

x0

N2

Home Coming

I've been brightening up the window sills

and whompin up a batch of coconut lemon bars

for the visit of the Grand Boy and Dear Daughter tomorrow.

His Daddy, the Artist, created this beautiful birth announcement for the Boy.

More pictures when I've got 'em.

He is two weeks older than this now.

Grin, twinkle, beam, smile...

Sending some 'o' that out to You All.

x0

N2

Spring Blues

Although he is certainly the most important, the Grand Boy is not the only new life popping out this Spring. We've had a decent amount of rain this year after two of near drought conditions and that has been kind to the flowers in the wild and the garden.

California Sky Lupine, lupinas nanus, I believe.

The purple wisteria on the front of the house.

Lilac and more blue iris.

Here's hopin' all your blues come as flowers.

x0
N2

Ready to Pop

Spring is bustin' out all over.

Wondering whether the purple iris's will bloom before the Dear Daughter gives birth...

The doctor's predicted due date is This Friday - Mar 19!!!

The anticipation...

xoxo N2

The Little Things

I was looking for decorations that weren't too tacky for the Daughter's Baby Party and I passed the rack of cards at the Dollar Store, where they have perfectly good cards, two for $1. I started for the Easter card selection, thinking I'd get one to mail to my sister Martha. She loves getting...

And then I stopped myself, you know how you do if you've lost someone to death, even the death of a friendship or love relationship... I won't be doing that anymore. I can't send Martha a card, that she will receive where she is now, anyway.

My Mom has been gone just past twelve years now and I still catch myself, when I come back to town from traveling, thinking about visiting her at the house that she rented within walking distance from mine for her last nine years.

Shortly after Martha passed, I spent an afternoon and evening sorting through her picture albums and a suitcase of her treasures with my sisters Sue and Cindy. We worked and talked around the table on the patio until it got too dark to see what we were doing. We gave it up for the day and went to dinner at a restaurant where Martha and I used to go.

Among the jumble contained in the suitcase were little things that Martha used to have on a knick knack shelf in her room. I took a few of those for momentos -- a tiny blue bird figure that reminded me of the glass "blue bird of happiness" that used to sit in my Mom's front window, a couple of miniature owls, two blown glass dachshunds that I remember being in my parent's whatnot cabinet in every dining room of every house in which we lived, a mini RCA tin containing needles to an old windup record player Mom gave away when we moved back from England when I was twelve, a letter N sealing wax stamp that caught my father's fancy decades ago in Williamsburg.

I gave the owls to the Son and Daughter-in-Law. The other little things sit here and there on my window sills, catching the light, spilling colors from my past.

Wishing you sweet memories, my Dears.

x0 N2

Touch and Go

Home for just a few days in California.

Taking nurture from the flowers left by the gals who stayed in my house, from the welcome home drawing that my little neighbor couldn't wait to bring over in person,

from the time spent gabbing with the gals at the kitchen table or over coffee and daughter-made coconut bread at the local cafe.

Gathering warmth from a night in front of the fire,

an evening watching a movie and sorting family photos,

an afternoon at yoga and in the steam bath,

a simply delicious dinner of roast chicken and vegetables and homemade huckleberry pie with whipped cream.

Of all these things is nurturance made.

Sending warm hugs on to you, Dears.

x0x0 N2

The Smell of Sky Blue

In the midst of all the family logistics and planning for my sister's funeral, I checked in with my friend Ms Moon over at Bless Our Hearts. She wrote simply and eloquently about the joys of hanging out the wash, of standing outside under a bright blue sky.

Here's my own take on just that feeling from a few years ago.

Sun Washed

I want my wash to smell of sunshine and the wind.

Why did we become convinced that

some lab concocted combination

of hydrophobic long chain molecules

is better?

could even come close?

Because we were missing

a half remembered fragrance from home?

Because clothes from the dryer have no smell?

Or worse, smell sour

having sat in the washer too long?

Because by using a dryer we won’t have

to lift wash

to carry it to the yard

to shake out each piece

to pin it with wood to the line

in the sun

in the breeze

to catch sight of a blue jay in the redwood

to sigh at the beauty of cloud against sky.

N2

20041104

Still on the road here. The up side is that I am getting some time to connect with family and children. Looking forward to being home and having the chance to do the simple things like hanging a load of wash on the line.

Thanks to one and all for the kind words of condolence.

x0xo,

N2

Day 36: The Other Side (l'autre côté)

Hello Dear Friends,

My heart is heavy today, as my youngest sister Martha died this morning very unexpectedly. I had already made arrangements to travel back to CA to see her in the CCU where she was being treated for "blood clots in her lungs and sepsis" (massive inflamatory response of the body).

Two of my sisters drove down from Oregon on Tuesday to see that she received the best of care. They and our brother-in-law who lives nearby were all with her when she slipped away at 4:59 am this morning.

I talked to Martha on the phone Monday and Tuesday from here in France and she was joking and giving out I.love.you.'s up to the last minute. Several workers from the rehab center came over to the hospital to check on her yesterday. They said she was the light of the center while she was there.

My sister Martha was the youngest of ten children, seven girls and three boys, in our Boston Irish Catholic/Bible Belt Baptist clan. She was born with Down's Syndrome and grew up well loved at home in the center of our family.

We will all miss her generous heart, red hair, smiling face, sense of humor, caring touch and prodigious Skip-Bo playing abilities.

Good-night, dear Martha,

sleep well,

may "flights of angels

sing thee to thy rest."

Loving you from the other side,

N2

Day 35: Think of Martha. Now!

Had a more frivolous post in mind but I've been on the phone to the CA checking on my youngest sister who was suddenly transferred last Sunday to the ER from the rehab facility where she was gradually recovering from hip surgery. She sounded stronger yesterday when I talked to her, but today it is not looking so good.

Anyone out there?

OK. I need you to focus all your healing energy and send it to my sister Martha.

Or just send it to me and I'll pass it on.

I know it sounds desperate, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Think of it as the Psychic Unity Hotline. My Mom used the Unity Hotline a lot in the last ten years of her life and was a true believer. She'd call the 800 number and put in your request for 24 hours of prayer for whatever you needed -- love, health, a job, more money to pay the bills...

The Psychic Unity Hotline is not an organized religion, it comes together the instant it is needed. And that moment is now. Think of Martha. Send her all the love and healing power you can muster.

I'll check back later today.

x0 N2

Day 33: The Mossy Wall (le Mur Moussu)

When I came downstairs yesterday, the morning light striking the miniature daffodil bulbs and roots reminded me that I had promised to get them a moss blanket.

After a short detour to the marché du livre up at the abbey to fondle some tight leather bindings, lust after marbled end papers and purchase one small book, I took a walk along le Chemin du Tour du Parc (literally: the path around the park).

This is the lane which circles the capacious grounds that used to belong only to the Catholic Church and its abbey school. Though it takes up 6 hectares, or nearly 15 acres, near the center of the village of Soreze, the Parc lies behind a high rock wall and, in the old days, was seldom seen by most of the inhabitants of the town, unless they worked for the abbey or the school.

The moss is so lush and velvety green on the wall next to the stream that I couldn't bring myself to take any off.

I searched the ground at the bottom of the wall and found some loose pieces which I brought home from my walk.

The baby jonquils are all tucked in and already starting to pop out blossoms.

Maybe I'd better feed them some whiskey water tomorrow.

Bisous,

N2