months for stepping stones

 when i signed in  this morning to write a blog post, i was alarmed - as usual, these days - to see that the last time i was here, the date was may.  poof!  there went june.  poof!  july is on its mercurial way to being half gone.  next time i open my eyes, it seems, summer will have disappeared and the chill of autumn will be descending late in the afternoon.  the older i get, and i know you understand this, the faster the days fly by.  those of you with grown children will know this, strongest of all.  life is wrapped with brown paper in pockets and packages, sent out in parcels big and small.  those parcels seem to get bigger and bigger, and they get sent somewhere before i've even been clearly aware that they were sent.   i've tried to document these fleeting days as best i can.  when first june began to unfold in my arms, i wrote down a list to keep myself in check, thinking that once i had proclaimed my intentions, then executing them would be as simple as doing them one by one.   but you know as well as i should have known, as i never seem to learn, that things are never quite as easy as that.  days fill up.  afternoons turn into evenings.  where did this day go?  what did i accomplish in this long day of light?  it was an ambitious list, an earnest one.  sincere.  heartfelt.  it makes me smile.  at least i wrote them down.   the most important things, i think, i managed to do.  june begin to wind down before my eyes, and in that last week of the month, i set a date to have a couple of declarations become something concrete, something real.  the nature journal was begun, one sunday afternoon out here on the back porch, when i pulled out paints and brushes and a wonderful italian journal gift from a friend and spent two hours with head bent over the opening page, dabbing and wiping and freestyle painting the afternoon away.  a rain storm gathered, the sky darkened, thunder rumbled.  june.  goodness, yes.  june, which quietly and gently turned into july, even as i tried to make it stay. 

     Little Meadow down the hill from Wooded Way continues to fill with wildflowers, tall and short, white and pink and purple and a yellow as bright as the day.  i bring them home with me in frowsy bunches, i gather them in noonday heat while walter romps through grass as tall as his head.  i don't stop to look at the time; i no longer wear a watch on my wrist.  the days stretch out, they slip back inside of themselves and turn a loop that opens into evening.  evening is filled with quiet; the lightning bugs flicker, the moths come close to the house and flap their wings against the screen.  

 

  i love these moments, all of them, that come with the essence of summer.  my house stretches out into the outdoors, the back and front porches and deck all become extensions of the rooms that hold me deep inside, when winter's cold and long nights close in like a giant, soft cocoon.   i step out through the front door in tank top and shorts, i walk down the dirt road to see what gifts wait for me on any day in this generous summertime.

  how do you spend your days?  the ones in which you linger, you savor, you relax?  what do you do with your unclaimed time?  do you spend it a little with yourself, being kind to your heart, your soul?  do you step slowly, breathe deeply, look intently, do you dream of things that are to come, that have already been?
do you know these days, at all?  will you make some promises to yourself that are not too difficult to keep?  will you make note of this time, before it slips completely away?  i'm trying my best to do just that.  right here.  right now.  this time. xo

Comments

[Sabrina]

Lovely days Nina! My days are quite different,but they have their moments. Keeping the feeders and fountain full for the birds is a task that I love doing. When I have bit of time I love stitching up things with my bits of silk.

[Tina M.]

such a post invites the deep breaths that come with summer. easing back into the living part of living....the answer to most of the questions is....yes. enjoy this one fine summer day, every day. xo

[julie whitmore]

O I love your hair in braids.
Its wonderful not to wear a watch!
me neither.
I' d like to lie in the grass and roll down a hill and land at the foot of a warm lake and take a swim and then ride an innertube back home and rustle up some fresh fish and
well; I am rambling.
But I am taking today 'off' and feel like I'm playing hookie from school; or going on a field trip.
These kinds of days always last the longest!
xxxxxx

[Kat Langford]

You make me so glad to just be human - alive and just in the moment. Here in Florida, it is just so very hot that gardening is done early in the morning and shade becomes your friend. I just love reading of your adventures and they inspire me to be busy as a proverbial bee during these summer months. Joys to you as your journey from day to day and no, you do NOT need a watch. Use the sun and, by the way, enjoy the giant moon tonight. It is a super moon beckoning all the rabbits to dance. JOY!

[wendy]

Do you know what you are? you are a manuscript of a divine letter, you are a mirror reflecting a noble face. This universe is not outside of you, look inside yourself, everything that you want you are already........

[Judy]

What Wendy said...you are a gift to us, Nina, I always love it when I 'pop by' and you have shared snippets of your life...as a friend said of my brother rings true here..."you have always left me with a dose of joy...and thought"
OX Judy

[Mary]

Love that you still feel the urge to keep us in your busy loop of life. You really are missed when gone from here - it's the only way we can communicate AND be thrilled with photos of your most recent lovely work Nina.

Hope mother is doing well, the boys too, and dear sweet Walter is ever at your side doing doggie things which bring a smile to your face.

Yes, days fly by, nights seem shorter, the clock chimes, the sun comes up……guess this is life! We just returned from the Baltic and St. Petersburg, Russia…….the Hermitage Museum, the art inside the palaces and churches, even the subway, stupendous in every way.

Hope you enjoy remaining Summer days - we hope to come back to the mountains when it cools off a bit.

Hugs and blessings………..Mary

[Karen Robison]

Dear Nina - Love to hear (read!) your thoughts and quiet adventures. My youngest, Konrad, was married to Holly yesterday. As I gathered flowers and made bouquets and nosegays - I thought of you wandering with Walter. I picked a big bunch of sweet grass and just under the stems - a heart shaped rock! Perfect. My husband Pat and I often go 'shopping for art supplies' which means wandering the side roads, railroad tracks, and Kettle Moraine. Be well! K

[Delila]

I will begin to catch up with my favorite blogs again. and your was first i had to visit. I do love to see your photos on Instagram, but love to read your heart warming words in here. those photos of yours are so beautiful. Especially the picnic photo, it's like straight from a lovely book! Have you ever read book called Cranford? I usually read it on summer time, sometimes couple of times.

Have a lovely day sweet Nina, Delila.

[sandy]

At this point it's just one Loooooong day with intermittent periods of darkness.

[nancy k]

dear sweet nina welcome to the grey braid sisterhood. :)
what a beautiful post, its true we miss you so, thank you for your gift of life and your eyes that share such beautiful places and for words that sing songs of your days.

here in the canyon i've been planting hollyhocks everywhere and wildflowers, digging, making pathways, all with my lantern at night so i can turn it off and see all the stars and the milky way. and dance with the moths as the comets come and go.

namaste my kindred spirit x00xxx0xxx00000x

[Joanie Hoffman]

I love the thimble photo. Perfect! Happy days!!!