Sunday I had this lovely collection of words spinning around in my head. I had planned to write something about my mother, who has been gone now for thirteen years. I thought about something new and felt this might be a good starting point, writing a bit about my life and my memories. The weekend was spent working and feeling quite ill, so the best laid plans or posts if you will, fell by the wayside. Last night I left work early, feeling a new variety of ill, one of complete fatigue and came home only to dream awful dreams of being under siege, not surprising after the last few days, the dreams making me so fitful my son finally woke me to make sure all was well. I slept again today with dreams once again fraught with strange things.
The day is windy, blowing in thundershowers for tonight and the flowering trees have filled the air with their heavenly perfume. Last night I stood under tree at work, filled with buff colored blossoms, wondering, in my fatigued state, what could be more beautiful. They are early this year, as are the first flowers of summer and I hope to get some pictures of them before the blossoms disappear. It is time to fill my deck with flowers as I watch with envy, the neighbors deck filled with deep pink hanging pots. I have Lily of the Valley this year, my daughters favorite flower and they are about to be in full bloom, their scent mixing with the scent of the trees. There are no lilacs here so I will have to go on a hunt with my scissors to find some I can cut to bring inside.
There is a small plant on my deck, one that has travelled with me to my different homes. It has of yet not come back to life and I am saddened to think it might be gone. The little shamrock would go dormant in the winter and come back filled with green leaves and white flowers every spring. It was a plant given to my father when my mother left this life, a plant never meant to last beyond the first decorative months, but one that has surprised us year after year. Perhaps it is just a sign of moving on and going forward. Still there is a slight sorrow in my heart its passing.
I will start writing about life once the words start finding there way out of this current fog. It will new beginning something fresh, something needed. For now I think I will enjoy a bit of fresh air and the scents of the season while they linger in the air on this spring day.