My apologies for the very long delay in posting. It’s been a rather difficult past 8 months. My family, as I’ve known it for the past 13 years, is in the midst of change, and I’m settling in to my own place and adjusting to a new life. Honestly, I haven’t felt much like sharing anything here because I really didn’t understand or accept what was happening in my life.
Truth is, I almost gave up on Blondesighted Art – there was no desire in me to see color or pattern. I needed time to sit with things and grieve a bit. Add to things the chill and dullness of winter, and they only compounded the feeling.
Over the past few days, I’ve been cleaning up my computer files and came across some pictures I’d created over the years. They had been buried so deeply in folders that I had forgotten about them. But looking at them a bit more closely, I realized they held keys to healing.
This was one of my herb plants that had been moved inside for the winter. I didn’t want it to die, so it sat on our kitchen counter in the path of the morning sun. Each morning, I would stop and look at it, to make sure it was still surviving. This particular morning, I noticed that was reaching toward the light, green palms stretched upward, as if to say, “I’m not giving up – today is a new day, and spring is almost here.”
The snow flurries had started, so I went out on the deck to have a look. A spider had made a web across the backs of the chairs, and as I looked closer, I could see perfect little frozen “stars” decorating his work.
I had gone to the local car wash and was deep in
thought worry, when I looked at my windshield and saw this lovely “painting” of rainbow-colored suds. Fumbled for my phone and snapped this shot, just before the water erased it.
Anyone who knows me well knows how much I love shamrocks. Every year, around St. Patrick’s Day, I buy a small plant to add to my collection. I loved the interplay of the deep purple-maroon leaves and the teal chair. Fiona (yes, my plants have names) seemed to enjoy the light, so I left her there.
While I’m still grieving, and probably will for a long time, I’m beginning to find some joy in looking through these photos and discovering subtle messages of healing. What messages did I find?
- Every morning, reach up to the sky and say, “Today is a new day… and I’m not giving up.”
- Take time to look closely at things. You might discover unexpected beauty in them.
- When you see something beautiful, capture and appreciate it… it could be gone in a flash.
- When you find a spot with good light, stay there a bit longer and enjoy it.