memories

Mourning Miss Marie’s Garden

Posted by Barbara Techel

In the late fall when I move my geranium plants indoors I think of my friend, Miss Marie. It was from her that I learned to do this. Soon I’ll have to cut them back, but for now, I’m enjoying the last of their blooms.

It will be two years ago in February, at the age of 72 that Marie passed away. Her white two-story house on the corner in the hub of our quaint downtown was sold to a gentleman who buys up homes in the area and rents them out to tenants.

It’s been sad to watch the changes to the property since then. Many of the shrubs have disappeared. Then this summer the black ornate wrought iron gate to the entrance of her house was taken down. Before I became friends with Marie, I’d often think of that gate as the entrance to a secret garden, and behind it, I was curious about the mysterious woman who lived inside.

Walking by what was once Marrie’s house is part of my morning route. Today as I rounded the corner I sensed something different once again. As I walked a little further I saw that the garden off to the side of the house was completely gone. Tears sprang to my eyes. It’s now covered over with gravel and has been made into a large parking area. Even the sidewalk that led from her back porch out to her art studio is gone.

The garden, with raspberry plants that leaned over the walkway, and how I’d often sneak a berry or two as I sauntered up the sidewalk to the back porch when I’d visited Marie were now gone too.

Tears filled my eyes and my heart ached for how Marie loved birds and the many that hung out in her garden (and stole the berries too!) who no longer have this special place to dwell. The stories we’d share of critters that often appeared at her home or mine — the toads, frogs, and the dragonflies, oh my (!) — and how we both took such great delight in these sightings.

It all felt so harsh. I could barely contain my sadness as I continued on my path home. Marie loved nature, flowers, books, and animals and was an artist that collaged fabric into the most exquisite designs – she had quite the eye for combining colors and patterns together!

I realized once again why my attraction to her all those years ago when I’d catch glimpses of her downtown or at the post office – and her eccentric style always fascinated me. She lived simply but also loved to indulge now and then in a few of the finer things of life, which she was able to do so with a depth of joy because of her frugalness. Somehow it just made those indulgences all the sweeter. I loved how her eyes lit up and her whole body came alive in excitement when she’d share with me the experience of something she had saved up to do.

For a moment I wanted to just stuff it all down and not feel the heaviness of it all. For a moment I wondered why I feel these things at this depth. I thought to myself that it was silly to be mourning a garden. For a moment I didn’t want to be the person who feels so deeply.

But it is who I am. I realized once again that just as I feel something like this so deeply I’m also able to experience great joy in things others may think seemingly ‘small.’ 

I realized also it’s the essence of Marie that is a part of who I am too and that I continue to strive to be. Nature, animals, art, books, and indulgences in the finer things now and then is what brings me joy too — and what makes me deeply appreciate life.

While I can’t bring back Marie’s garden, I can continue to carry on that very spirit of who she was and who I am too. In many ways, the steps I walk through this life, Marie walks with me and the mourning I experienced with the loss of her garden today was in fact my missing her here in this life.

But it strengthened my determination once again to live the principles that are in alignment with my heart — and the sorrow that had enveloped my heart for a time during my walk this morning is a beautiful thing. And before I knew it I found myself smiling at all the sweet and fun memories.

And this box that contains some gelato crayons that sits on my art table in my Joyful Pause Cottage. It was a box Marie gave to me one day that contained some chocolates inside.  I was just as excited about the box, as Marie was mid-sentence that she said to return it when the chocolates were gone, that she changed her mind and with a smile said to keep the box because she saw how happy it made me.

And I realized now looking at this box how it is a nudge from Marie to continue to experiment with the collage pieces I’ve been making and to continue to make art more a part of my life.

A moment of sadness that turned to sweet memories that turned to inspiration…

xo,

Barbara

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We Had Joy, We Had Fun. Thinking of Gidget and the Joy of Squirrels.

Posted by Barbara Techel

Right after I had to make the heart-wrenching decision last month to let Gidget go due to congestive heart failure I heard these words from the song, Seasons in the Sun, pop into my head: We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun. I know it was Gidget letting me know it was time and it was okay.

Other lyrics to that song from Terry Jacks are:

Goodbye my friend it’s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I’ll be there

In the weeks since Gidget has been gone the lines, now that spring is in the air and think of me and I’ll be there often run through my mind.

The truth is I wanted one more summer with her. But I know if I’d had one more, I’d want another and another. 

I’ve found such comfort in this song as the earth is so alive right now with birds, squirrels, chipmunks, fawns, and deer that I often see in our yard. Seeing and observing wildlife has me often thinking of Gidget. I feel grateful to have this connection with animals during a time I’m missing my sweet girl.

I had to chuckle seeing Squirrel dining yesterday late afternoon with his pretend friend—a rustic squirrel I bought at an art gallery last summer. I called Gidget a little squirrel at times when she was, well, you know, acting squirrely!

And again, while I’d have loved one more summer with her, I’m feeling grateful for the companionship of all the animals in the wild. I feel like Gidget wanted it this way and that she knew this is what my heart would need. It would be so like her to think of my best interest.

So while Squirrel snacked on peanuts I sat quietly and watched feeling grateful for the joy they bring and the sweet memories of Gidget that saunter through my mind.

XO,

Barbara

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When Dreams Come True in Unexpected Ways

Posted by Barbara Techel

When Dreams Come True in Unexpected Ways

It was 1977 and 1978 that I played the flute in my high school band. My flute was different than other’s had, as it was the most beautiful color that looked more like an antique silver.

It was the winter of 1978 when the love of my life would walk through the gymnasium doors during a basketball game where I was playing flute during half-time. Though I didn’t know it at the time.

He was four years older than me, having just graduated from the same high school six months earlier. My whole freshman year and he being a senior, I would often find a way to make sure I could pass him in the hallway. I was smitten with him all the way to my toes!

But alas, I didn’t think he really knew I existed. Or perhaps as I realize now, he too, was quite shy, like me.

After that basketball game I’d find myself walking home with my best friend and my flute case in hand. Just as we were crossing the bridge, one block from my home, that guy I’d been smitten with pulled up in his large brown Pontiac. With those bluer than blue eyes, and a smile that melted my heart he said, “Would you like a ride home?” 

My knees wobbled and I stammered, “But I’m almost home,”  pointing straight ahead. Thank goodness for my wise friend standing next to me, who held my secret of this crush I’d had for so long. She gently stuck her elbow in my side and said, “I can walk the rest of the way and wait at your house for my mom to pick me up.” 

That is the last time I remember my flute playing an important role in my life. In 1984 I married that apple of my eye and we’ve been married for 33 years now (and will be together 39 years as of this January).

Over the years I’ve pined over playing the flute again. But I’d sold it a few years after I got married and often times regretted the decision. And a few times I even did a bit of research to see if I could find a similar flute again.

That special silver flute wasn’t meant to come back into my life. My leaning more and more into ancient wisdom teachings and wanting to be more connected with nature, I’ve felt the pull toward a simpler life for quite a few years now.

And sometimes dreams come true in new and unexpected ways…and feel more in alignment with how far you’ve come and what is of importance at this stage of your life.

In high school, the thought of a Native American flute would have never crossed my mind. But this is the grace and beauty of expanding and evolving in who we are and what matters…

And the gift of this EarthTone Native American flute from High Spirits Flutes gifted to me by my mom this Christmas has touched a special place in my soul. It calls to me often beckoning me to sit for a few moments and play.

With the recent passing of my sweet Kylie the day after Thanksgiving, it was the last week or so that I wanted to learn the best I could how to play Silent Night  after my mom said I should play it for Kylie because she knew she would hear it.

In my newsletter this week I shared a special holiday message from me and Miss G, along with my debut of playing  a short version of Silent Night on my flute…and so I share with you too…

Merry Christmas to each of you and thank you for being here on my blog, reading my stories, listening to my oracle readings, and for all your love and support.

Much love and gratitude,

Barbara (and Miss G!)