Posts Tagged ‘Love’
Anniversary Heart
We received an invitation to a 25th wedding anniversary party for our friends, Joyce & Doobie Kurus, which inspired me to start a new heart sculpture before I finished the one already in progress. A little interlude for a change of pace.
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I chose a piece of American Hornbeam that I have been looking forward to working with for a long time. When we cut up this downed tree I saved much of it in the barn and shop for future use because the shape and grain were so enticing.
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Like so many times before, I was drawn to retain some of the raw bark to provide contrast to the other highly finished surface area.
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The wood was great to work with and has me very excited for the next opportunity when I will be able to sculpt another piece of the American Hornbeam I have stashed away.
I appreciated having Joyce and Doobie’s special occasion to think about while I worked on this heart. Somehow, I let myself start on another inspiration before getting back to my melting heart out of a piece of maple, so I currently have two in process at the same time, neither of them out of American Hornbeam. I’m experimenting with creating a shape that reflects a twisted heart.
If I like what comes of this first attempt, I hope to try a larger version from Hornbeam. All while simultaneously seeking to make progress on the tricky part of my melting heart.
Making all these hearts has got to be adding to the love that exists in the world. I don’t really need any more inspiration than that.
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What Love
Cyndie went to see The Chicks in concert at the grandstand at the Minnesota State Fair last night. You need to buy a ticket to the fair to get to the grandstand so she got a chance for a little taste of the fair. Last year we went in the middle of the week with anticipation of touring the barn to see some horses. Making our way slowly toward our goal we came upon closed doors and access denied signs because they were cleaning the barn that day.
It didn’t take her long to find horses last night. This is the first picture she sent me after her arrival:
I was home and in charge of keeping the dog out of trouble. I didn’t score very high in that regard.
My session of being in charge started badly enough when I found him standing in the middle of the fenced-off compost area eating fresh manure that I’d dumped in there earlier in the day. The perimeter fence was perfectly intact so he must have simply leaped over it. I’m beyond caring at this point.
I opened the fence to let him out, appreciating his obvious posture of acquiescence telling me he understood he wasn’t supposed to be there. I don’t think he has a clue that we don’t want him messing with manure but that’s another issue.
After that, all went perfectly as I finished mowing and he lolled about patiently. He stayed in the house and out of trouble while I tended to the horses and put equipment away in the shop garage. I was able to shower and have dinner while he lazed around and entertained himself in a manner that was nothing short of ideal.
When I took him outside for the last time of the day, I gave him a reward for his good behavior and tossed balls for him to chase until he tired out. I tried coaxing him toward the house by moving our play to the front yard. I was getting eaten alive by mosquitos and was desperate to get inside. Asher still wanted to play.
I threw more toys for him to chase in the front yard until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I went in and watched him through the glass storm door. He chomped on a few toys, ran off into the woods for a time, came back, laid around for a bit, then disappeared again.
He showed up soon after with the filter from the pond pump in his mouth and started tearing it apart. He had pushed down the fence Cyndie erected around the pond and made a mess of things back there in a few seconds of chaos while I waited inside the sunroom door.
I give up.
I forgot. Why did we get another dog?
Cyndie brought me a souvenir from the fair. She got in long after I was asleep so I got this treat for my breakfast this morning. What a love she is.
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Favorite Antidepressant
First of all, the weather yesterday was idyllic. That alone goes a long way to soothe a person’s angst. Beyond that, my favorite antidepressant is getting outdoors for exercise with a group of people who I know and love. I have known most of the people who showed up to ride for almost thirty years from the annual June bike trip called the Tour of Minnesota.
Our route along the Dakota Rail Regional Trail took us right past the home of my good friends, Mike and Barb Wilkus, so I brought a bunch of the riders off the trail to say hi to Mike.
He opened his garage to show us the camping trailer he was packing for a little getaway they have planned.
My biking group did this same warm-up ride last year but I failed to realize we were going right past the Wilkus’ place. Upon figuring it out, Rich Gordon and I stopped to surprise them. This year, I warned Mike that I’d be coming by, not mentioning the part about bringing 8 other cyclists with me.
The other thing we did yesterday on the ride was revisit a stop at the Big Stone Sculpture Garden in Minnetrista. A number of us reenacted last year’s pose in front of the word Love carved into stone.
We pedaled and visited for 30 miles which served to rekindle my deep appreciation for these precious friends.
Thank goodness Rich is adept at capturing pictures of us as we ride. Thanks for all the photos, Rich!
The joy of biking with these folks is the primary reason I have returned to the annual June biking and camping event year after year. Yesterday served as an excellent primer to inspire my preparations for the trip that will start in Albany, MN this year. Riding the country roads around my home all by myself isn’t as rewarding but getting in some preliminary hours on the saddle always goes a long way toward minimizing discomfort for a week of riding in the middle of June.
NOT having sore butt bones when you will be riding day after day is also an antidepressant, if you know what I mean.
I would be even happier if the week in June isn’t rainy or stormy, but I won’t frame that as a requirement. I’ll throw that inspiration out there as a potential bonus.
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Day Early
Happy Mother’s Day!
We celebrated with a brunch yesterday morning for which Elysa contributed some special focaccia bread she baked after starting her day at the farmer’s market.
Cyndie prepared waffles and as we sat down to feast, she decided she wanted to take a group photo to capture the occasion. Her unpracticed attempt to figure out how to frame the photo to include all of us and her face became a comical fiasco that had us all laughing so hard, especially Cyndie, that our expressions turned out ridiculous. Elysa stepped up to save the day and helped her capture the moment.
We shared a precious day of hanging out and honoring the priceless bonds nurtured by a couple generations of really great moms.
Moms sure do ROCK! Virtual hug to you all today!
Here’s a lone trillium blossom from our woods in celebration…
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Having Enough
The spring growth of grass has already become more than the horses can keep up with in their never-ending urge to graze. Those days when we need to confine them to the paddocks are hard to watch as they crane their necks reaching under the wood fence for any morsels of new growth. They could never get enough. Since the gates to the fields have been open for a couple of weeks, they now have more than enough.
The nutrition feed we serve, which they compete with each other to gobble up all winter, suddenly holds less value. The first time I arrived to pick up the pans and found them still holding food was a big surprise.
The other day, the two chestnuts were so exhausted after eating only half of the serving of feed in their pans, they walked down the slope and laid down for a rest.
That’s the first time I’ve ever seen them leave food for a nap.
It was just a short rest and then they were up to wander out into the field for green grass again.
I figured out a way to work around the problem of the ground being too wet to mow yesterday by cranking up the power trimmer and cleaning up around the edges. That always makes the place look like someone actually lives here instead of the barn and hay shed looking like abandoned buildings.
Cyndie’s mom came for an overnight visit for Mother’s Day weekend and we dined out last night at our local supper club restaurant, Shady Grove, before settling in at home to watch the new Michael J. Fox documentary, “Still.” He is one tough guy who is still funny despite the difficulties he has lived through.
This morning, our kids are coming over to continue the Mother’s Day festivities with a waffle brunch.
What a rich blessing of a loving family and more than enough food. I am holding all the moms I know in my thoughts this weekend, sending love to you and the families you raised.
Love. Here’s hoping everyone is having enough.
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Peaceful Meditations
I had plenty of time to meditate on the gratefulness for a warm bed during a fever yesterday, and the luxury of having Cyndie be able to give me a full day pass from outdoor chores. This morning dawned much friendlier with sunshine replacing the gray skies of the previous wet days.
On Friday afternoon, I laid down on the driveway to capture a view of the precipitation falling that was flirting with the difference between sleet and hail. Today we have the bright sunlight amplifying the increasing green of our fields. You know the philosophy of meditating on what you want in order to manifest desired results?
Mia was showing a Zen-like focus on the acres beyond the paddock fence this morning. Even though it is sunny today, it is way too wet to be walking on our turf, as can be seen in the amount of hoof-traffic abuse the surface inside the paddock is suffering. The poor horses can’t help damaging the very grass they would love to be eating.
Soon, the situation will improve and the horses will peacefully be grazing in the pastures again. And, soon we will be walking the circuitous path of our labyrinth again.
In less than two weeks we will be hosting an event on World Labyrinth Day at Wintervale. My favorite global meditation for peace happens every year on the first Saturday of May as people all over the world create a wave of peaceful energy by participating in their time zone at 1:00 p.m.
World Labyrinth Day at Wintervale
I’m going to visualize May 6th as a beautifully sunny day with the ground dry enough to support foot traffic without becoming a mess. No matter what, it will be a day bursting with love and peaceful vibrations flowing around us from one time zone to the next. Cyndie will bake scones to serve with coffee and we will encourage meditations start before 1:00 and continue well beyond the official hour.
We will already be feeding the meditation of peace before it arrives and continue after the crest rolls away to the west for as long as there are people present to stroll.
If the weather is bad, well, we will make peace with that, too.
You do what ya gotta do.
Peace!
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Cyndie’s Story
Two weeks ago, I wrote about us attending a Moth story slam in advance of Cyndie’s plan to submit her name for an opportunity to tell her wedding cake story at the Amsterdam Bar & Hall in St. Paul. For those of you who weren’t able to hear her tell it in person last night, she has allowed me to post a written version for you.
Cyndie’s name was selected tenth –the last slot, out of twenty that had signed up for the chance.
Imagine Cyndie walking up on stage, standing under the lights in front of a microphone, and addressing a packed house. She is allowed only 5 minutes…
When my niece got engaged, she asked her mother to sew her wedding dress, and her grandma to knit a shawl and asked if I would bake a simple wedding cake. Thrilled, I said yes immediately… even though I’d never made a wedding cake before. Friends expressed concern over the huge responsibility I’d taken on given my lack of experience with wedding cakes. But I love to bake and was inspired by my niece’s invitation. I embraced this cake-baking opportunity with equal measures of optimism and naiveté.
That year, I baked dozens of practice cakes to test out on family and friends. I was blamed for inches added to waistlines and my reputation for baking in excess soared to new heights. It took me about 40 hours to mold sugar paste into candied pearls and colorful, edible flowers. With all that practice, my confidence grew and so did the cake. What started as a simple wedding cake had become a five-tier, white chocolate, lemon-raspberry layered masterpiece, stuffed with extra love.
Days before the wedding, my friend asked me how I planned to transport the cakes to the venue. I’d been so focused on baking, I hadn’t given it a thought. I quickly discovered that my mustang convertible with bucket seats is NOT the car for the job. My friend bails me out by loaning me her practical 4-door sedan as long as I drive and relieve her of any responsibility for the safe delivery of the cakes.
On the big day, I load up the car with boxes of cakes, buckets of extra frosting, edible decorations, and fresh flowers. I’m so nervous about transporting the cakes that I drive like a Sunday driver, on a Saturday! Thankfully, all the cakes arrive intact.
I carry the boxes of cakes like they are newborn babies and begin to carefully assemble the tiers of cake with the stands and pillars. I’m so meticulous about frosting and decorating each level to perfection that it takes me 2.5 hours just to finish the first four tiers. But I’m happy- already the cake is nearly 3 feet high and it looks as stunning as I’d hoped it would be.
As I reach to place the final tier, I hear a loud snap and then another one, as the pillars give way under the weight of the cake, and, in horror, I watch the cake topple over and crash onto the floor. A busboy says, “You are so [effed]” as he and the wait staff all run for cover in the kitchen. I can barely breathe but I manage to warn my friend, “DO. NOT. SAY. A THING.” She doesn’t and takes cover behind the bar.
I can’t believe I have just ruined my niece’s wedding day. This is exactly what my friends had warned me about. I can hear all the “I told you so’s” and the “what were you thinking’s” and see the evidence of not being enough piled high on top of the inglorious mess. I want to scream but I can’t because the only thing separating the wedding chapel from the reception hall is a thin, moveable partition.
Then the organist begins to play, “Here Comes the Bride.” I AM SO [EFFed]! My friend appears next to me with a shot of whiskey she’d stolen from the bar. I don’t drink whiskey, but on this day, I did. She asked, “What are you going to do?”
I have two choices- I can succumb to the despair of this epic fail or I have to rise up and fight with all the love in my heart to make the simple cake my niece had asked for. The fight is on. Baking in excess is now my saving grace. I have enough backup cakes. The groom’s cake is still intact and I can use fresh flowers to decorate so I kick my inner critic to the curb and ask for help.
The busboy –yeah, that one!– comes to my aid and scoops up the four-tier disaster on the floor, a waiter brings a fresh tablecloth and my friend fearlessly rips open the boxes and hands me back-up cakes as fast as I can frost & decorate them. I have to finish Wedding Cake 2.0 by the time the ceremony ends in less than 20 minutes.
I finish the second cake just in time to see the mother-of-the-bride walk into the reception hall, look at the cake, and, burst into tears. She says, “I didn’t cry at all during the ceremony but when I saw the cake… It’s so beautiful.” And it really was!
Sometimes, even I have a hard time believing the miracle that happened that day. But the radiant look on my niece’s face when she thanked me for baking her wedding cake helps me remember that anything is possible when I let love lead the way.
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Out of the ten storytellers, Cyndie’s performance earned a second place score from the judges, losing out by half a point to a tale that included both a tornado and nudity. The evening was a smashing (pun intended) success and made all the sweeter by the support of family and friends who showed up to cheer her on.
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Second Greatest
As I stepped out our front door to get my shovels for clearing off the deck yesterday morning, I heard the sound of a car engine in front of our garage doors. I came around the corner to find a gentleman walking around his car and we exchanged greetings. He said he lived just five miles away near the Rush River and added that our place looked really beautiful.
Dawn, Sunday morning.
Then he said he wanted to tell me about three things in the Bible… I politely interrupted him to let him know he didn’t need to finish. He asked how long we’d lived here and we shared a few more tidbits about ourselves. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to do a little proselytizing, myself.
I said that I am all about love. He lit up and said love was what Christianity was about. My response is that love is what all religions are about.
My second greatest accomplishment after taking action to treat my depression is my enlightenment about embracing love as the single most important intention humans should focus on every single day in our thoughts and actions as we navigate our way through life. Love for other people, ALL people, animals, nature, the planet, ourselves, the universe, and mysteries in planes of existence we can’t even prove exist.
When you allow yourself to truly love, it makes it easier to forgive.
Love is magical.
Yesterday morning was a foggy one. It was a freezing fog, actually. While feeding the horses and cleaning up, I made my way in and out of the barn many times, getting their feed pans, filling bags of hay, getting the wheelbarrow and scooper, and retrieving their empty feed pans. Each time I came out of the barn, the fog had increased.
Dusk, yesterday afternoon.
First, I couldn’t see the evergreen trees across the road. Then, I couldn’t see the road. Eventually, I couldn’t see anything around us. It didn’t last long but it was around long enough for delicate ice crystals to form on everything the fog touched. I loved it!
While I was visiting with the guy in front of our garage, the icy crystals started snowing down off tree branches all at once. It created a fairy tale scene that made it seem like we were in a snow globe ornament.
At noon, I went down to the barn and worked on freeing the big sliding doors from ice that formed after the last storm of freezing drizzle and rain/drizzle/snow. A little calcium chloride helped get the job done.
With our winter hours, I’ve been feeding horses in the morning before the sun comes up and in the afternoon after the sun has gone down.
I sure love the views we get to enjoy.
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Hugs
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he still remembers
when she didn’t offer that hug
he wanted the most
loss of connection
can be worse
than never connecting at all
erosion implosion
feeding backward emotion
spirals intertwined
smokily lingering
longer than matters
except matters of the heart
follow special rules
and their own sweet time
quietly divine
energy field lines
spine-tingling kinds
minds can’t forget
what cells still recall
embodied realities
toppling over
in a free for all fall
long after lights out
when dreamland pulls back covers
to mystical worlds
featuring hugs
unconfined
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Relative Something 