Snow!

And so it begins!



The first snow.



















Yesterday and this morning Prince Charming and I were in a race with a snow deadline. There was a fountain to drain, hoses to bring in, gutters to clean, snow markers to place so that the crew that shovels the driveway can still see the outline. I L-O-V-E snow.  Prince Charming has his reservations.

It's been such a beautiful fall that we got lulled into a false sense of what winter could be like.

I was up on a ladder cleaning the last gutter when a little puff of wind caught my attention.  Suddenly the air was alive with flurries.

Prince Charming cleans out the fountain.

Snow at noon:

Porch Fern

Grasses in front of lollipop blue spruce

Juniper Jump-ups

Front porch pumpkins

Snow at 4 p.m.

Porch Fern

Roses

Juniper Jump-ups

7 inches of snow at 8 p.m.

Front Porch pumpkins

Remember what they looked like at noon?

It's still snowing. Wonder what tomorrow will bring?

We had theater tickets tonight, but after slip sliding around at 4, decided 

to stay here instead.

Giving Thanks for Our Differences

 Here we are; 7.2 billion of us spinning on this big rock in the middle of infinite space.

That's 7.2 billion different ways of living life.

Each one of us with our individual preferences about food, music, politics, religion, the clothes we wear.

Just so you know, your preferences, especially when different from mine, irritate and annoy me.

Sometimes, like last Friday in Paris, our differences of opinion lead to bombs and bullets. It leads to people who were just trying to eat dinner or listen to some music dying.

It's hard to understand, confusing and frightening to think that differences of preference lead to bombs and bullets. I don't like this.  I don't like this one bit. Really I'd like things to go back to the way they were last Thursday when I was making my Thanksgiving grocery list and not worried about war in Syria, millions of innocents displaced by war, or angry young men who want to exercise power in the most brutal way possible....by cheating someone else out of their life. My preference is for peace and brotherly love.

I'd like to hang on to my preferences. It only seems fair. I've spent a lifetime collecting, curating, fine tuning so that I know definitively I prefer a gin to vodka martini. I enjoy the hit of sauteed onion and herbs of provenance and loath dill in almost any dish, except ice cream when I prefer chocolate sauce. I prefer my own bed at 9:15 p.m to any gala, concert or party, even on a Saturday night. I prefer the company of people I know and love to strangers unless they've got a French or Scottish accent. Maybe this list of silly preferences takes too lightly the differences of the God to whom we pray and our understanding of what that God requires of each of us. My preference is the thought that there is one God who speaks many languages and accepts many beliefs, but insists on one thing: that we love each other. Loving each other, it seems to me, precludes bullets and bombs as a way to convince someone that your faith is the correct one.

I can understand rage, frustration, exasperation with the way the world seems to be going.  It seems like everything is falling apart.  Don't we all want to keep the world spinning? Who told me or you that the world should spin according to our prefrence, that's the question?

Say you forget to put a glass in the dishwasher. Stand back as I roar my indignation at the unjustness of the world and your obvious lack of respect for me.  Am I every one's mother?!  Must I pick up after the whole world?

Is it too much to ask for peace and a clean kitchen counter?

It's exhausting trying to get the whole word and everyone in it to twirl the way I think they should twirl.  Not only is it exhausting, but after giving it my very best effort for over 50 years, it doesn't seem to be working. Nobody is paying attention.

I've decided to give up on my preferences.....ow, even writing that hurts.  It's so hard to give up what I want, what I know in my heart is right.

So I'm going to practice first.  I'm going to practice on this maple tree in my yard.

I love maples just like I love my children, family, Prince Charming, friends and neighbors.

Except this maple has some issues, just like my children, family, Prince Charming, friends and neighbors.

The leaves on this maple change late and they only change to yellow.  Our neighbor's maples change to give a good six weeks of color as they shift from a gorgeous gold (deeper and richer than this pathetic yellow) flushing to crimson.

The Neighbor's maple

Our maple is planted too near the power lines. Every few years the power company comes by with saws and lops off half the tree, ruining its symmetry.

Year after year the maple insists on being what it is--a merely yellow, late changing, lop-sided tree.  Both life circumstances and its nature make it what it is. I've been asking myself which is easier to change the maple or my thoughts about it?

What might happen if I shifted my thoughts to appreciation for it's deep, summertime shade, its interesting bark, the way it cleans the air and gives me oxygen to breathe?

What if, in practicing to accept the world as it presents itself in the maple, I learned to accept my children, family, Prince Charming, friends and neighbors--colorful character, independent-minded, lop-sided, kooky characters all?

What if I stopped trying to fix the world and everyone in it to suit myself? I'm just practicing.  I'm just practicing accepting the maple.

Today I'm giving thanks for you, dear reader. I appreciate the time we've had together today. Blessings to you and your family as you break bread together this Thanksgiving.

Riding Lessons

Wednesday night's forecast called for snow. The days of riding Lullabelle all over town are drawing to a close for 2015.

Riding on streets flaming with color this fall has been such a pleasure.

Starting as early as April, Lullabelle comes out of storage, gets a once over by the guys down at Bike Tech and hits the road. Lullabelle and I wander the streets of our town spring, summer and fall.

  

She's got nifty rear baskets for hauling, in addition to the front wicker basket.

The trickiest part of riding Lullabelle is deciding on a riding "costume".  Often I'm riding to a meeting, or lunch with the girls or some other social engagement which requires something other than

spandex or a proper English outfit.

I love wearing skirts and I have a closet full to choose from.

I thought this made a sporty riding ensemble.  As you can see the skirt is fitted through the hips. (lordy until I looked at the picture I had no idea how FITTED. Honestly, I thought (hoped) I looked like the lass in the English riding get-up.  In next week's post we will discuss the power of denial.) 

It's important to get the cut and the length of the skirt just right to preserve one's modesty and dignity.

The wind, ahead of the storm, was gusting up to 40 miles per hour and some of my ride was downhill straight into the teeth of the wind.

The skirt didn't start ballooning up around my hips until a mile into the ride, giving passersby the kind of peek show usually reserved for dark, damp, out of the way bars.

I was late for lunch, and halfway to my destination before I realized I couldn't possibly adjust this skirt  to provide even modest coverage. What to do?!

Loudly singing a merry verse of "I see London, I see France, I see somebody's under-pants," I sailed up and down hills, through intersections full of cars with people thinking, "Now Mother, that's not something you see every day: a woman riding her bike with her skirt flapping in her face." I rode past scandalized school children walking home for lunch.

Like Bob Dylan I improvised the time structure trying I See London in waltz, polka, and rap rhythms. 

The entire city sighed with relief when I reached my destination -- The Laughing Tree Cafe. 

Where my friend Eliz Guyer pours a mean cup of tea and serves locally sourced good food.

Eliz reminds me of a sprite.  She is a good soul, always willing to lend a hand, clever and able to make magic with food, tea and people.

When placing my lunch order I shared my ballooning, flying skirt problem. 

"No problem," Eliz said, "here's lunch, a spot of tea and a rubber band. When you're done with lunch bring me the rubber band and I'll show you a little magic with your skirt."

Curious and relieved at the possibility of not repeating the "show" on the way home, 

I met friends at a table overlooking the Cedar River.

After lunch Eliz worked her magic by pulling the back of the skirt to meet the front and wrap the rubber band around a quarter.  Now I sported the latest fashion trend:

Gauchos! 

No flying skirts on the way home.

 Prince Charming says I'm on my way to being a fashion plate for Matrons Wear Daily.

The weather's warming for the weekend....time to get one last ride in.  Wave if you see me on Lullabell!

Serendipity

Recently I spent an afternoon at my friend Linda's kitchen table drinking wine with Linda, Diana and Judy.

I had a lot of stuff I "should" have been doing.  I should have been home cleaning MY house, I should have been checking on room availability for the new Sunday school class, I should have been mailing out birthday cards and notes of encouragement to dear friends, I should have been putting a press release together for a film festival.

Instead I spent the whole afternoon drinking wine in front of a cheery fire in a stone hearth in Linda's kitchen talking about philosophy, politics, the French philosopher Montaigne, sexuality, romance with our husbands, children, and friends who occasionally annoy us--it was great fun!

Reflecting back on the day and how it all turned out, the house eventually got cleaned, the Sunday school class went off without a hitch, some of the birthday cards arrived a day or so late, and we decided to wait on the press release until we had more details ironed out.

I could have hurried home and missed out on Serendipity!

My dear friend Linda is my Serendipity Coach.  Just look at her house, it's full of little "moments".

Linda jokes that this is where her husband, Bob, pays the bills

Wouldn't you love this hornet's nest, minus the hornets of course, in your home? Linda confesses that there "might" have been just a few hornets left in the nest when she originally brought it in.  No hornets the afternoon we spent in front of the fireplace next to the nest!

I fell in love with Linda's orange chairs, 

and this little cutie (Annie) too!

Linda teaches me that laughter, friendship, good books, great conversation are all worth taking time from the "shoulds" of life.

In order to allow serendipity to sneak in, you've got to allow wide margins in your life.  When I studied art history in college, the professors talked about white space, or negative space as integral to design.  It wasn't "empty" space.  It serves a visual and harmonic purpose.  Just as wide margins in life serve a larger purpose. The only way to have time for serendipity is to leave empty space on your calendar.  Really can any of us accomplish more than three things in a day? 

I've found just trying to get three things done each day cuts into the possibility of allowing magic to occur.

Is there room at your table for magic, whimsy, chance?

If not, if your life is too crowded by "shoulds", how might you clear a little space for chance?!

When I lose inspiration, I just book a session with my Serendipity Coach Linda!

I'm as guilty as the next person of making life too crowded. Won't you share with me how you're making room in your life for Serendipity?