hope

Life Renewing Itself. Miss Marie’s Snowdrops.

Posted by Barbara Techel

Life Renewing Itself. Miss Marie's Snowdrops.

We’ve had some warm days in-between some chilly ones. I’ve taken full advantage of the warm ones. I pulled Gidget’s dog stroller out of the corner of the garage and we’ve been strolling through our quaint village when we can.

Whenever I drive into town, I drive by Miss Marie’s home. There is no other way around it really, as it is part of our small downtown. It’s hard to see it so quiet and closed up. Though there is a tenant living upstairs yet. But it’s sometimes a jolt to know Miss Marie will never again walk down the steps of her back porch, nor will I see her in her oilcloth apron, or hear her one-of-a-kind laugh.

It’s been one month since she died. It kind of amazes me that this much time has passed already.

I’d been avoiding walking on the sidewalk next to her house. Instead, I’d stand across the street and take a few moments staring at her home wishing she’d still be there.

But the other day I decided to walk by. She never really had a lawn. Instead, the yard is landscaped with many plants and shrubs growing wildly. This time of year with winter now on its way out, everything is still in its dormant stage. But underneath I’ve no doubt there is life just waiting to burst forth.

As I rounded the corner to walk past the front of her home –  her home is on a corner lot – there among the plants that lie still without visible life yet, was this small patch of snowdrop flowers.

I know Miss Marie’s soul lives on. I just can’t see it. I can’t tell you how often I hear “Miss Barbara” in my mind as I’m thinking about things we talked about or making decisions I need to make.

When I saw these sweet snowdrops I couldn’t help but think how life continually renews itself.

Some of the common meanings for the snowdrop flowers are purity, hope, rebirth and consolation or sympathy.

Miss Marie may not be here physically, but her spirit lives on in so many of the lives she touched. Her life is renewed in a new way, as is mine as I open to connecting with her in a different way now. And her home that will come to life again someday with new residents I’m sure.

But for now, it feels like such sacred ground as I continue to honor the gift of Miss Marie and all she brought me in my life.

XO,

Barbara

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Garden Awakening and Hope Dances

Posted by Barbara Techel

Garden Awakening and Hope Dances

As I sit at my desk in my writing cottage the soft blue sky has just a few wispy clouds that slowly float on by. It’s a brisk one out there this morning in the lower 30s.  But there is a flurry of activity with clear indications that spring is truly on the way.

Little yellow finch seems to have found a small patch of open water in the frozen make shift bird bath. While Ms. Sparrow is more than likely keeping a close guard over new eggs laid, while at the same time curious about all the buzz outside.

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Next door, a landscape crew, decked out in winter headbands, gloves, and heavy jackets puts down fresh topsoil on the neighbors garden.

I’m dreaming of our own new landscaping that hopefully will begin too in the upcoming weeks. After living here for over 25 years and not care taking the gardens all that well, it’s time for a fresh start.

This time I’m hoping the garden bug will bite me a little harder and I’ll be better at the up keeping. Though as we planned our landscaping with the landscaper company in the bitter cold of winter, I did ask for it to be as maintenance free as a garden can be.

And so that is the view out my writing cottage this morning — a fresh start for all creatures, great and small. Hope dances outside my windows.

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With Every Living Thing There is a Lesson to be Gleaned

Posted by Barbara Techel

With Every Living Thing There is a Lesson to be Gleaned

Every time I see a Christmas cactus, I can’t help but think of my auntie Gail. I wonder if she knows this?

For the past few years she has posted photos  on Facebook of her many Christmas cacti when they are in bloom. They always make me smile.

She has a green thumb. Mine? Well, not so much. Perhaps it is that I don’t devote as much love and attention onto plants as I do my dogs.

Hmmmm. That could be the reason.

But I decided to give it another go this year and couldn’t resist passing up this lovely little bright pink cactus that was full of happy buds. So I brought her home.

She must be a she all in hot pink, right?

She resides in all her splendid glory on my altar with lots of light in my writing cottage.

And this morning when I entered my cottage after crunching through the small bit of snow we had overnight, she had a gift for me!

Her first bud to blossom and oh, how beautiful she is.

I just love how her vivid color was a promise of spring against the soft glow of white snow, with just a hint of fall yet in some of the shrubs outside my window.

All seasons within my grasp in that moment. It took my breath away and reminded me that like life, and all it’s different seasons of ebb and flow we go through, there is always a bright spot, even when life hands us challenges.

It’s a reminder to live within that awareness and be ready at any moment for beauty to call us back into the moment and fill us again with hope.

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