How is it that with all this extra time on my hands I still can’t unclutter my house? Oh yeah… the garden is waking up.
I simply don’t have words to convey the maelstrom of emotions that swirl within like March winds this spring. Above all there is gratitude for the many blessings this life has given me so far. I’m grateful to be an introvert who works from home anyway. I’m grateful that I have a reasonably healthy body, though my immune system is not robust and neither is my right lung, which never quite fills all the way. I consider myself to be fairly high risk, and so I’m grateful I have friends willing to shop for me and deliver necessities. I’m grateful I’ve worked hard for nearly thirty years to create this beautiful refuge, which now offers solace and peace amid global turmoil, and I’ll be grateful when I am again able to share it with people.
Other emotions may be less healthy but are also valid: rage at the rampant greed and graft manifesting at the highest levels of government during this pandemic when all humans should be working together to stave off despair and death; disgust at the ignorant response by trump cult believers that is causing so many more Americans to sicken and die; despair that the dying petroleum industry and the politicians that subsidize and profit from it take advantage of our distraction to rape and pillage even more egregiously our fragile planet. If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention: Broaden your information horizons.
Meanwhile, the Say’s phoebes are back shoring up at least two nests around the house. A day after they first fluttered into the yard, I took last year’s nest off the top of the ladder leaning against the north wall, and lay it down so I could use it this summer if I needed to. The next day I felt so bad that I gathered scrap wood, tools, and screws to build a little shelf in the same spot where I could replace the nest. But once I stood there with all the materials I realized it would be way too complicated, so I propped up the ladder against a joist to provide corner stability, and tucked the old nest securely back into place. It’s one small thing I can do…
The bumble bee is a queen of Bombus huntii. Nice pictures.
oooo thank you! i knew she was huntii but not that she’s a queen. do they come out earlier?
Always read, always love, the thoughts of the ducca queen.
thank you! i would love to catch up this coming week. xoxo
rita hines clagett writer, photographer, artist harriett115@skybeam.com http://dukkaqueen.com
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Love your photos, love your flowers, love your sanctuary!
Love you too! <3 🙂
Your garden. Your photos. The bees. The sun, the soil. And you. Thank you Rita.
Thank you, Tulipa ritala, for the feast of beauty. I agree with gratitude; I agree with rage; and it is difficult to turn away from the lingering unease caused by the virus, its exploiters, and its deniers. It makes me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Sheer appreciation for the beauty you have encouraged may be the only possible response. Hugs to you, Woman.
Thank you so much for this response. I agree wholeheartedly with your description of the lingering unease. It waxes, it wanes, but it’s always there. Only beauty keeps me in my body these days.
rita hines clagett writer, photographer, artist harriett115@skybeam.com http://dukkaqueen.com
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Sweet Rita: I left a message for you last week about scanning all your most excellent writings in the old GHS newsletters. Great stuff! Do you have it digitized already? Gimme a buzz!
Sleazel
i will! i’m sorry i didn’t answer right away, and then got so distracted. but let’s talk over the weekend. i doubt i have any of that anymore, and certainly not digitally. love you!
rita hines clagett writer, photographer, artist harriett115@skybeam.com http://dukkaqueen.com
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My feelings are the same. Angry and grateful and more than a little sad.
Sent from my iPhone
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The beauty of your garden, your thoughts and your words are healing salves. Many thanks for sharing your gifts.