Morning reflections

Every morning before I come downstairs, I sit for a minute in "my" corner. Tucked in by the back windows, overlooking the garden, in an old chair that was my Popaw's favorite. I read a daily meditation ("Simple Abundance" daybook), look for any interesting birds, maybe write a little bit, settle my head for the day. This is a fairly new habit, one that came with the new upstairs back in February, but it's one I've come to treasure.

This morning, the word is Winter. A light blanket of snow, everything gone to sleep. Christmas is Done With, ahhh. The toughest Christmas yet, with family struggling to be merry in spite of our missing Light, our little Mom.

But we did it. We managed. We're through to the other side of Christmas now, and now I sit here looking at the snow on the just-waking world. "Winter Into Spring" by George Winston is playing softly, started by Tom, and completely appropriate.

The Monday after Christmas - a big sigh of relief. Back to some kind of routine, back to daily life, back to Home. This is probably my favorite week of the year, these days between Christmas and New Year's. Days of ending and beginning, all at the same time. Days of resting, thinking deep, gathering up for a fresh new start. The potential of these days sparkles, like a skyful of stars, just waiting to be touched...

Time for a little silliness... and Snuggies!

A Snuggie is not something I have ever thought to own. When I'm curled up on the sofa, I'm either under a blanket, or Not. But at our family Christmas celebration, our dear sweet Goofy Santa included a Hot Pink Snuggie in his "major gifts" grab-bag - and guess who drew it out!

As it happens, Chris H. and David M. had each already received one - theirs, in a dashing leopard print. So, here's the Contrast and Compare photo complete with (left to right) My Pink Self, Goofy Santa/Daddy, David, and Chris.

hee hee hee...

Changes...

2009 has been some kind of year. First of all, after two years of clear scans, my little Mom's brain cancer resurfaced and finally took her from us. More on that later, as I heal from the shock of having the smiling heart of our family Gone On Ahead.

In the midst of all this, Tom and I made the decisions that The Finch House at Thieneman's would close, and that I would resign my greenhouse job. These did not feel like hasty decisions, did not feel like "because of Mom" decisions - The closest I can come to explanation is:
It Was Simply Time.

And now? I'm Home. Home. Home.

Home to heal, yes. But more and different as well. Home to think, to work, to settle. I'm looking at it as a time to lie fallow, to wait for the next God Breeze to fill my sails. Time to get the house in order, to cook good nourishing meals, to start to do things for other people.

There will be more outside work in my future, I'm sure. For now, I'm considering this a time of self-employment. The Finch House is still here, back to its original incarnation: Herbal crafts, garden talks, classes. It'll also be hitting the cyber-bricks of eBay to (hopefully) sell the remaining garden shop merchandise. Beyond that, we'll see.

And still, at the grateful heart of it all, there's Home.