Loss in the Trees



It’s so simple really… nature’s ebbs and flows and how necessary they are.  Yesterday a tree I’ve passed at least fifty times was suddenly the most beautiful specimen on my walk. Why hadn’t I noticed it previously?

The answer came to me later in the day. I thought back to the first few weeks of my morning walk. The flowers were screaming shades of purple all around me. For quite some time I felt bathed in bright colors and wondered at these bushes and trees that decorate the desert.

Overnight, the flowers were gone.

In their place, wildlife seemed to be calling for my attention. Roadrunners, surprised as I rounded the bend, delighted me more than once. Little rabbits bounded away in pairs and lizards sunned themselves. A few days ago I realized I’ve been seeing fewer animals.

Yesterday that tree captured my heart. I realize now that it stood out because the other things had gone.

Oh nature, there you go again being a metaphor for life.

Over the past year I’ve experienced loss. I’ve lost a dream. I’ve lost a friendship. I’ve lost faith and hope in humanity. I’ve nearly lost my will to keep going.  In this forest of losses, I began to see trees I hadn’t known were there all along. These new trees looked like hope. They wore leaves of love and fresh dreams. They spoke to me of deeper friendships.

They rekindled my fire and now my forest teems with possibility.  What will I find over the next hill?

What layers will appear when these trees too lose their leaves?




What a world.

What a scary, beautiful, disastrous, heartbreaking mess of magic.

It’s okay if all you did today was breathe (I say to myself like a salve for the bruises).

It’s okay if all you did today was breathe (I say to you like a salve for your broken heart).





There are days when I feel like all I’ve made are bad decisions. I take a raw look at my life and what I see is a mess.  I see a disaster so complete and so expansive that nothing could clean it up.

Then I look up.  I look to the sky for answers. If I’m lucky, the sun peeks through. If I’m extremely lucky, wild geese take flight overhead.

Lesson: Keep looking up. And if the rain is relentlessly falling, let it mix with the tears and wash them away.

It can’t rain all the time.

Can it?



On a day like today
(But not today)
I will wake up
My legs will take me
Where I want to be
My arms will hold
What needs to be held
On that day like today
(But not this day)
I will not worry
Lament or bemoan
My thoughts will blossom
And spread their seeds
My heart will open
Letting go at last

– Just Me Actually

Such a Pansy


It’s been two weeks since Rob left for Laos. I knew this time apart would be taxing, but today it feels endless. I’m a hermit by nature. Rob calls me his “lone wolf” and I have to say I find that a very fitting description.

I prefer solitude. My alone time is when I recharge and refill the emotional tanks. I like a quiet life of simple things.

Even a hermit gets lonely. Two weeks totally on my own has me feeling admittedly sad today. As I looked for some inspiration to forge ahead, I remembered the little Pansy that grew outside our front door last Fall. This little guy held his head up even when the leaves fell. Snow came and even when that first white blanket melted he rose up strong. I was blown away every day to see my little Pansy friend holding out against the bitter weather.

I used to think Pansies were fragile little things, like the butterflies of the flower world. Now I know that to be called a Pansy is a sign of courage and strength.

Today I am going to be such a Pansy.

(Photo is the actual little Pansy I admired so much)(I miss him)

Whiteout Blues


I love you winter. I do. Well, I did. I enjoyed the cold as it fell over the mountains and blanketed the town with snow. November felt magical and December even more so. The soft crunch of snow under my boots, the tingle of red cheeks, the smell of a frozen quiet world….

Okay but today? Today I miss color. So here’s to looking forward to colors and warmth and flowers. Here’s to not totally biffing it on the sidewalk while trying to brush snow off of my car ever again.

(Spell check refuses to recognize the word “biffing”. It’s a word! Get a 90’s dictionary already.)