Sunshine and Flowers

Saturday I spent an hour or so wandering around Olbrich Gardens in Madison.  It was a lovely experience being outside, watching the birds, looking at the trees, flowers, and water.  It reminded me how much I enjoy being in nature. 

Sunday Vicki grilled out.  I was supposed to be editing but I went on the deck and talked to her while she grilled.  I love our deck.  I love the weather where it’s warm but not smothering and sunny without blinding.  We had lunch on the deck and then sat around talking. 

The connection to the outdoors is vital for me.  It helps balance me out.  I love most weather – especially if I don’t have to drive in it.  I rarely complain about the weather and it annoys me when other people do. 

There’s something about spending even a short time outside which settles me.  Is it a throwback to my childhood on the family farm or something more primal?  I’m not sure the answer to that matters to me. 

Last night I finished the latest pass going through Wayfarer Resolve (#18).  I know I’ll be doing another paper edit on this one so will work on getting searches done and getting prepped for the edit.  Once I got through this pass, I opened up the five stories which have been pushing at me.  I worked on two of them.  By the time I was done it was 10:30 so I opted to stop writing and prep for bed.  I was reading a book and had four chapters left.  I finished that and started another book which I read two chapters. 

This sounds like typical stuff for me but I felt more energized while I did all of this because I’d had some time outside.  The time wandering the garden and sitting on the deck helped to clear my mind and fill up some reserve I needed. 

With my mobility issues, I’ve been feeling like I can’t do as much outside.  It feels limiting which is never easy to accept.  Going to the gardens and even the deck time reminded me there are alternatives to hiking through my favorite county or state park.  It reminded me I can still have the connection and the pleasure being outside brings to me.

Spiritual Kick in the Bum

John Edward was in Milwaukee on Friday.  He is a medium and I watched his show for years.  I’m a skeptic.  I believe there are people who have a higher level of connection with spirits (or maybe they just don’t have enough walls).  However, before I’m willing to pay or believe, they have to validate that they are connecting to people I know.

With a friend, I drove in Friday and waited in line, waited in the room.  It is interesting to watch people and listen to them but there were a lot of people in the room which always sets my nerves on edge.  This was expensive and hard for me to spend the money on me.

He came on the makeshift stage and spoke.  He was sarcastic, funny, and spiritual.  I enjoyed his explanation of how things work.  I didn’t get a reading which made me a little sad but at the same time, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

He read the people in front of us and the people behind us.  As soon as he said the name George, I thought for certain I’d be getting a reading (lots of them in my family) but it wasn’t for me.  Yet in a way, it was.  Throughout the evening, I was moved to tears and laughter.  I enjoyed the evening and hardly noticed the time passing.

At one point, he made a statement about how connecting with the energy was something you had to work out with.  It was something you had to practice and focus on.  This hit home for me.  I get so wrapped up in writing, crocheting, work, and life that I forget to embrace my spirit and my intuition.  No reading, but maybe a message all the same.


Growing up on a farm, the spring ritual was to pick rocks.  Mostly the rocks we picked were generic looking and unremarkable.  We spent hours walking up and down every field keeping a sharp eye out for rocks big enough to wreak havoc on the machinery that would follow our tasks.  Every now and again though there would be something beautiful that just had to find its way home.  Considering my family’s obsession with rocks, I’m surprised that more didn’t find their way home. 

One rock looked like a bus and my sister painted it that way.  Another rock was a Wisconsin jade that was beautiful – I don’t know what happened to that one.  Yet another was so unique in form that my second oldest sister took it to a geology professor and had it tested.  My mom still has the rock in her house with a note about what was discovered.

Some of the larger stones were put on the edge of our yard as a decoration.  When my folks moved to Missouri they took those bits (large bits) of Wisconsin with them. 

We no longer farm and those hours walking the fields picking stones are gone.  Our obsession with stones has not gone away though.  Every member of my family has a love for stones.  I know mine are everywhere.  My house has stones in every room much to the dismay of my husband.  I have some in my car, at work, and in my purse.  

When I find a rock that I have to have, it is like an old friend coming home to me.  The rocks offer a comfort and beauty I don’t get elsewhere.  When I buy a new stone, I usually sit with it on my chest while I crochet or read.  I’m imbuing it with my own energy and absorbing its energy.   

Sometimes during the spring I miss those walks, the dirt between my toes, the smell of fresh soil, and discovering pieces of our foundation.  I guess you can take the girl off the farm but you can’t take the farm out of the girl.